Welcome to author A.J. MaGuire

Welcome, A.J., and congratulations on your book release, Usurper.

Let's hear a little about it:


Yanked out of exile by an unorthodox blood mage and her 

assassin husband, Trenna and Nelek Dyngannon must find a way 

to keep their children safe amid pirates and magic and a family at

war. In a desperate bid to rescue their homeland, Nelek and

Trenna find that they must risk family, love, and their children’s 

safety in the fight for freedom.
He could throw his stiletto at her, the one located just under his right sleeve. It was the same weapon he’d used to pin Troy down, so it hadn’t been properly reattached yet. 
Was his name Troy? Faxon hadn’t been paying close enough attention to their names to know for sure, but he was mostly certain he had it right. It started with a “T,” that much he could remember because he’d immediately associated the boy with Trenna out of sheer laziness. 
Troy and Trenna, he thought. Double Ts. 
Troy and Trenna tried traipsing through town with a trembling, troublesome troupe. Terrified travelers trumpeting their… 
Gods, he needed to stop. 
He felt a tic in his cheek, just under his left eye, and twisted his wrist just enough to access his stiletto. The skin-warmed blade came free of its hook and slid down until he stopped it with the palm of his hand.
Keeping his body turned, he tried to gauge their faces, gingerly running his thumb along the sharp edge. None of the small family in front of him seemed to have noticed the move, or if they had they were remarkably good about hiding their alarm. He frowned at them, wondering why in gods they seemed so confident. 
Oh, they were tense to be sure, but they weren’t frightened. It was almost insulting. 
They were a motley looking bunch, never mind that most of them were related. Troy in particular stood out with his mess of red hair and blunter features. His nose had stopped bleeding, which was a good thing, since he’d stopped blotting it with the handkerchief once the attack began. The girl, who had been advancing with her cutlass drawn, stood beside the boy, openly scowling at Faxon, so he sent her a little wink and grinned when she went to take a step toward him. 
Fighter, he thought, just as Troy grabbed her arm, holding her in place. He hissed something too low for Faxon to hear but he imagined it was some kind of warning. 
Nelek glanced at his daughter—there was no denying that parentage—and held tighter to the hilt of his sword. Faxon ran his tongue along his teeth and thought, that’s more like it. 
But Nelek was too controlled to make the first move here. If Faxon wanted action, he would have to poke at someone else.
“You used to be better company, Trenna,” Faxon said and calculated the angle he would need when he threw his stiletto. 
So many targets, which one should he pick? 
Trenna remained poised with her dagger at Bree’s throat, eyeing him with clear warning. “It’s been a very long time. I’ve lost my sense of humor.” 
“Pity,” he said. “Your humor was one of the things I loved best about you.” 
“Drop the act, Faxon. There’s no love lost between us.” 
“You wound me!” he said with a smirk. “We were friends once, weren’t we?” 
“Once, yes,” she conceded. “A very long time ago. But we have changed since. I have changed.”


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