A Golden Hoax (sample)
I grasped the gloved hands of that spoiled little brat as if they were a lifeline, perfectly timed tears brimming in my eyes. “Oh, I simply cannot wait until you come to visit us in Metzel,” I declared tearily, voice lilted in the accented manner I’d heard a hundred times growing up near the king’s court.
Marie Laurentius bobbed her head like a broken doll, squeezing the life out of my own gloved fingers. “Of course, my dear cousin. It is truly tragic to say goodbye so soon after finding each other again after all this time, but—”
“I agree, of course,” I interrupted, sick to my bones of her moping and whining. “It is so sad we must leave with such haste, but you understand the dire circumstances,” I tilted my head back dramatically as if in prayer and made an exaggerated gesture to wipe the tears from my eyes with my newly forged Laurentius family handkerchief. “My parents need a proper funeral before the festival of the pink moon, or their souls will be forever lost to the wastelands.”
Marie’s expressive face was drawn tight in pity, her cherry lips puckering. “Oh, dear Victoria, of course. Please, don’t let me hold you back any longer. Again, I am ever so sorry I’ll have to miss the funeral, but I’m afraid I’m leaving you with just about all the pocket money father gave me for this trip.”
I lurched forward to give her an aggressively familiar embrace, making sure to really lay on the snuffles and watery quality to my voice. “Thank you so much for everything, cousin. Without your kindness, I’m not sure where we would be,” I said, nodding to Claudia and Tristan, who stood near the carriage, looking nearly as anxious as I felt to be leaving.
Marie released me from the embrace with a small, proud smile that curdled my stomach. “Any time, my dear Victoria. I’m sure father will be so excited to hear of your escape from such a horrible tragedy.” Her eyes flickered over my shoulder. “And the escape of your brother and governess, of course. Doubtless father and I will be off to visit you in Metzel as soon as I return home.”
With a warm parting smile and a wave of my handkerchief, I boarded the carriage, Claudia and Tristan in tow. We waved excitedly through the window until Marie Laurentius faded from view, and then the energy in the small, cushioned cabin crumpled like a tent without supports. Tristan slumped in his seat, his cherubic features drooping into his characteristic cynicism as he discarded the guise of the eager younger brother like an old festival mask. Even Claudia, sitting as ramrod straight as a governess before us, let her lined face relax a bit.
I sighed in relief as I tore off my gloves, rubbing appreciative fingers up and down the upholstered seating and elaborate doors. “This is a fine carriage,” I remarked, feeling under the seat for the bottle of expensive foamberry wine I’d stashed there earlier. “It’ll be a shame to leave it behind.”
Claudia leaned forward in her seat, hands in a death grip on her cane, voice pitched barely above a whisper. “The con is not yet complete, girl. There is a driver just on the other side of that wall, and I would advise you not give us away to his strained gossip-seeking ears.”
I rolled my eyes, pulling free the wine and ripping out the cork with my teeth. “It’s fine. I doubt the driver can hear anything over the noise of the horse.”
Claudia sniffed, taking the offered bottle of wine, just another unwitting gift from the Laurentius family. I planned to sell it the first chance I got, of course, but no one would notice if a few sips were missing. Claudia needed to calm herself. “Regardless. You could do to be less flippant, Kallista.”
I grinned, nodding to the wall at her back. “Don’t you mean Lady Victoria Laurentius, Governess?”
Claudia took a long swig more fitting of a jug of ale than an expensive wine from the Cottelle foothills, and I winced. She just knocked several bronze from the retail price. When she passed the bottle back to me, I swirled the liquid around contemplatively and raised the bottle to my nose as if I were a fancy connoisseur. Truthfully, I didn’t care much for alcohol at all. I would take a Spubace any day. I passed it to Tristan, who accepted it eagerly and raised it to his lips.
“You can’t drink that,” snapped Claudia, snatching the bottle from his clawing grasp. “Alcohol is bad for children.”
Tristan growled like a wild animal and yanked hard on the bottle, succeeding only in sloshing it on the carriage floor. “You’re not my mother, Claudia.”
“I don’t care,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re no good to me as an adolescent drunkard.”
“I’m only three years younger than Kalli,” he argued, and I intervened before they spilled the wine.
“Which is still too young,” I said, slapping both of their hands away and muscling the cork back into the bottle.
“Alright, I see. Thirteen is old enough for me to provide for my family by conning rich people out of their money, but Spirits forbid I want a sip of wine.”
“Exactly,” I said, stashing the bottle back beneath the seat.
“Thirteen was young enough for you to run away from home, Kalli. Why can’t I have some wine?”
My hands stilled on the edge of the seat. “Shut up, Tristan.”
“Why can’t I have some wine?” he demanded, arms crossed over his chest.
“I don’t know, it’s bad for your brain or something. Ask Claudia.”
“What does Claudia know? Just because she’s old doesn’t mean she’s wise.”
“I’m not old,” objected Claudia, false hurt flooding her sharp features. No one could ever be quite sure how old Claudia Jacobi was; she had that sort of inscrutable air around her that made her seem barely old enough to be my mother at times and at others ancient. It was exceedingly useful in this line of work. I knew she had to be at the very least in her late thirties, to have spent a decade in the military before she returned home injured after the war overseas.
I pushed aside the curtains to survey the hills rolling past. The plan was to wait until the carriage stopped for the night in Cortaz, nearly halfway to Metzel, where the charred Laurentius estate awaited. Marie Laurentius expected us to return to repair the estate and finally host the proper funeral of Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Laurentius, who had died in the fire five months ago. To my knowledge, Victoria and Blaise Laurentius, along with their governess, died with them, never having met their cousin Marie.
But Marie Laurentius was naive, foolish, and very rich, and we’d made a small fortune from the pocket money she’d given us to help with the funeral.
I caught a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision, and I frowned. Were we being followed? Pushing Tristan out of my way, I clambered up on our seat to peer through the back window of the carriage. With a groan, I let the curtain fall from my fingers and collapsed into my seat, head falling into my hands.
“What is it?” asked Claudia, leaning forward in her seat.
“That idiot sent her guardsmen with us,” I said, voice muffled by my fingers.
“How many?”
“Two. Riding behind the carriage on horseback.”
The wrinkle between Claudia’s brows deepened substantially as she pondered our dilemma.
“Well, Cortaz is out of the question. If we disappear there, the guards will doubtless make a fuss and assume the foolish nobles got themselves kidnapped. Too much risk, too much noise, and all three of us would have to lay low for a while before they figured out the con. Then they’d be hunting for the conmen… we don’t have time for this.”
“Do you think we could pay off the guards to look the other way?”
Claudia shook her head. “We didn’t make nearly enough to afford that kind of hush money.”
“Well, you’re the mastermind. What’s the plan?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think faster,” said Tristan, cleaning imaginary dirt from beneath his chewed and torn fingernails.
Claudia leveled him with a glare, and he flinched back, biting his words.
We spent close to two hours, I would estimate, sitting in tense silence as the path rumbled past beneath the carriage wheels. When she finally spoke again, I was deep into a Luc Delortes novel, one I’d stolen from the extensive library at Marie Laurentius’ summer home. Claudia would berate me extensively if she’d known I’d jeopardized all of our meticulous preparation by nabbing a book on our first meeting, but I couldn’t resist a book I hadn’t read from my favorite author.
Claudia rapped loudly on the wall at her back, signaling the driver to stop.
“What are we doing?” I hissed.
Claudia’s smile was dangerous, like a predator baring its teeth. “It’s time for Victoria, Blaise, and their governess to die in fiery glory. Again.”
I sighed, reaching for my bag. “I really do wish every now and then you would tell us your plans before launching them into action.”
In typical Claudia fashion, she ignored me completely. “Do you still have that disassembled crossbow from last year?”
“Of course,” I replied instantly, reaching into my inner coat pocket for the key to my luggage.
“Good. The tar and flint too? I want flaming arrows.”
I raised a speculative eyebrow as the carriage rumbled to a stop. “Won’t it be considered just the slightest bit odd if I burn my own carriage to the ground? How are they to pronounce us dead if we’re outside the carriage when it burns?”
“Leave that to me.” Claudia straightened out her skirts, then hesitated. “Oh, and Kallista? Use the Tallack Fishers this time.”
The carriage door swung outward to reveal a stout man in full livery and the Laurentius family crest holding a riding crop.
“Yes, my lady? My lord? Madam governess?”
“I require accompaniment into the forest to deal with my private matters,” Claudia said in that clipped tone of hers that allowed for no argument, sticking her cane out the carriage door and brushing past the driver.
“I shall accompany you, my lady.”
Claudia brought a hand to her mouth in faux scandal. “Only you, sir? But these woods are so dangerous alone. I do believe I require both guards as well.”
“Who will stay back to guard the children, then?”
Claudia waved a dismissive hand. “On the road, it isn’t nearly as dangerous as in the dark woods. Just lock the carriage door and the children will be quite alright.”
The driver sighed and gestured to the woods. “If you insist, my lady. The guards will accompany you.”
“Not you?”
“I believe I would be of little assistance in a fight, my lady, and my conscience forbids me from leaving the children alone.”
Claudia exchanged a loaded glance with me over her shoulder before slamming the carriage door shut in my face. The driver locked it shut with a click, and I peered through the window as he slipped the key back into his coat. Claudia stalked off confidently into the woods, the two guards at her back, leaving Tristan and I alone in a locked carriage to figure out her genius plan for ourselves
If she even had a plan at all.
I immediately launched into assembling the crossbow and notching one of the five remaining arrows I carried, shifting out of the way so Tristan could begin picking the lock on the carriage door. Only a few heartbeats later, the innards of the lock clunked into place with a muted click, and Tristan slowly began to ease the door open. The second the opening was wide enough for my decidedly stockier frame, I slipped past Tristan and scaled the side of the carriage, behind the driver.
As Tristan shut the door as quietly as possible and wordlessly began fitting his picks back into the lock, I darted forward like a snake to curl my arm around the driver’s neck. He made a gurgling noise of alarm and flailed weakly against my forearm for a few rapid heartbeats before he went limp.
I didn’t waste any time, immediately pulling a red cotton scarf marked with the crowned fish emblem of a rapidly growing rebel band, the Tallack Fishers, from my bag and tying it around his eyes. Though the Tallack Fishers had spread all around the kingdom in recent years, I still found it odd that Claudia would choose a group that had originated all the way across the kingdom, in the small fishing town from which they took their name.
I proceeded to loop yet another red scarf around his wrists, and used it to drag him from his perch and a good distance from the carriage. As he spluttered back to consciousness, I dumped him facedown on the packed earth and jogged towards the woods, Tristan at my back. I made sure to stomp around a lot and murmur in a deeply pitched voice, for the driver’s benefit.
The horses tied to the carriage were spooked, and the guard’s horses had already disappeared. I made sure to cut the carriage horses free before ducking into the woods with my crossbow.
As I began to coat the tip of my notched arrow in tar, Claudia’s voice cut through the thick undergrowth of the forest, loud and trembling. How could I ever doubt that the miraculous Claudia Jacobi had a plan?
“Help! We’ve been ambushed! It’s the rebels, they’ve—” She dramatically cut herself off with a brief scream, accentuated by the dwindling shouts of the guards.
I raised the crossbow and took aim, steadying my breathing. It had been a while since I’d fired a crossbow, and I’d never claimed to be an expert, but at least the ostentatious carriage was a sizable target. With a deep exhale, I used my flint to strike a spark, the tar on the tip of my arrow roaring into flame mere inches from my face. Without wasting another second on hesitation, I sent the arrow whistling towards the carriage.
Claudia made a disapproving noise behind me, and I had to stifle the urge to flinch. I refused to let her see that she had startled me. I barely turned my head to glimpse her frowning over my shoulder, how heavily she leaned on her cane the only sign she was in the least winding from disposing of two well-trained noble guards.
“What?” I asked defensively, beginning the practiced process of disassembling the crossbow and fitting it back into my elaborate noble luggage. That would need to change. With the crossbow safely stored, I pulled a large duffel bag made from a thick, brown, worn material out of an interior pocket and fitted it over the stolen blue luggage.
“We’ll need to work on your marksmanship.”
I frowned, standing up and brushing the dirt and leaves from my also-stolen noble’s traveling dress. “I hit the carriage, didn’t I? What’s the problem?”
“Your form is poor, that’s the problem.”
I gave up the argument, instead gesturing in the direction she’d come from. “The guards?”
Claudia lifted her sleeve to scrub daintily at the fresh blood dotting the rich plum velvet, face apathetic. “No need to worry. I took care of them.”
I shuddered. I had no doubts Claudia had been abrupt and violent as ever in dealing with the guards, but she was smart, too. She would have branded the scene somehow with the image of the crowned fish to seal our story.
“What are you waiting for?” chided Claudia. “Quick, the both of you, go bang on the door before there’s no door left to bang on. Make it sound as if you’re truly burning alive. Sell it.”
I scowled, pulling out my Laurentius family handkerchief to smear in the ash. Just in case. “What was the point in shooting it if we’re just going to go back over there anyway?”
Claudia leveled me with her iciest glare. “Do not doubt me, Kallista. Now go. Our next mark awaits.”
END SAMPLE
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TITLE: A Golden Hoax
GENRE: Fantasy, Young Adult Fiction
AGE RANGE: 13+
WORD COUNT: 90,000 words
AUTHOR NAME: G. N. Solomon
WHY YOUR PROJECT IS A GOOD FIT: Trident Media Group represents newly emerging authors, and this project has the potential to be a bestselling debut. With intrigue, tension, a surprising amount of depth, and just plain old fun, this project represents everything you are looking for.
THE HOOK: A con artist struggling with her own values.
SYNOPSIS: Desperate to find her missing family, a con artist stumbles across a prince with a bounty on his head. But as he comes closer to discovering she’s manipulating him, she must confront the painful truths of her past before they ruin her future.
TARGET AUDIENCE: Teens and adults who enjoy Young Adult fiction, and anyone with a flair for adventure.
YOUR BIO: G. N. Solomon was born and raised in Virginia, though she spent most of her childhood in daydreams instead. She has always had a passion for everything fiction, publishing Blood So Black, her debut novel, August 29, 2021. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys art, tea, and oxford commas.
PLATFORM: An expansive following of readers and writers on Instagram.
EDUCATION: A high school education, everything the internet can teach about writing, and a lot of practice teaching myself.
EXPERIENCE: I have written two novels, quite a few short stories published in literary magazines, and a seemingly infinite number of poems.
PERSONALITY/WRITING STYLE: Fun, alternative, snarky, tongue-in-cheek, but also pensive and introspective at times.
LIKES/HOBBIES: Writing, reading, doodling, laughing, listening to music, judging people, arguing, studying
HOMETOWN: Virginia Beach