A Slice of Cake With... Mary R Woldering

This week I am delighted to be having a slice of cake with Mary R. Woldering.

Mary is retired, a granny of 4, mystical, stubborn, spouse of Dr. Jackie Woldering, artisan and teller of tales.

What kind of books do you write?

Fantasy-historical-mythology-paranormal-sci-fi-romance-urban-adult!

Can you describe your writing why?

I like telling stories. Writing is me telling them to a wider audience and imparting my own life lessons as an elder. 

Share with us your favourite passage from the book you enjoyed writing the most

You’re killing me. I have so many. One I post on takeovers is this one from Book 2 Going Forth By Day. It’s called Ariennu and the King. In this Ariennu has become a concubine of the ailing king. Already angling for ways she will free herself she has become aware of palace intrigue.

The day had been particularly draining for King Menkaure. Ariennu rubbed his shoulders with hot oil the way she did every night. Once he relaxed, she bent forward to whisper seductively in his ear.

“Your Great Majesty, what is it His Highness, the Great One of Five, places in your wine to calm you in the evening?”

The king raised one brow, pausing at her audacity, but then reflected on her words. His hand reached up to affectionately pat her hand. “You worry for your king,” his expression grew distant. 

Ari sensed something in the tone of his voice at that moment but didn’t understand the nature of his thoughts. He seemed detached. The words ‘my death’ formed in her heart. She wondered if the king was thinking he would die soon. 

The only “king” she had ever considered was Marai. She thought of the luxury in which she had lived these past few days, but also thought of the dreadful emptiness in her life as she lived in the service of these two different godly men. 

Quiet, yet gentle and reassuring words that seemed to be part of a spell or a prayer filtered through her thoughts. 

It was as if Marai recited them to her through time. Her instincts told her to repeat them, that they would comfort the man in her care. She whispered them in Menkaure’s ear as they played in her heart: 

“If emptiness flourishes, my king cannot take his food. If my king flourishes, emptiness cannot take its food.” 

The thrill of her words raced through both men’s hearts; one struggling in the depth of a deathlike dream, the other dreaming of death in a candle-lit room. 

“The words--” Menkaure paused. A tear caught in the corner of one of his eyes. His lower lip dimpled slightly. “How is it that a woman such as yourself, a sojourner, knows them? They are taught to the sacred only,” the king blinked, then moved his lips to her ear. 

“Do you know the rest?” he asked. “Gladden my sad heart, woman of the fire. Speak her words to me so I can hear them again.” 

Ariennu felt her own heart skip as a quiet spirit drifted through her. 

At first, she thought it was Naibe’s essence, but then she knew it was the spirit of a very different young woman who had died. 

Goddess. He loved a young goddess, but she was taken from him. He did not protect her! Her heart thrilled to the sound of the king’s words. She couldn’t explain to him how she knew them, or why she felt compelled to repeat them. 

“Take me with you, beloved, that I may eat of what you eat,” she spoke calmly but realized that such a spoken devotion asked for love beyond the tomb. She could never give anyone but Marai that kind of devotion. 

The king rose from his couch to fetch the onyx cup which rested near the edge of the coals in the brazier. He poured liquid from an ewer into the cup, then sat on his couch, crossed his legs, and faced her. 

“Close your eyes, woman,” he gently commanded her. 

Ariennu closed her eyes obediently. 

Menkaure reached up and sweetly touched her closed eyelids as if he was blessing them, then spoke the companion piece to her words: 

“That I may eat of what you eat... that I may drink of what you drink, that I may be strong ...” his voice broke here and Ariennu almost opened her eyes when she heard him pause. “That whereby you are strong...” Then, he tipped the vessel to her lips. She sipped a quarter of the draught. 

“Open your eyes to me woman of wisdom, Your s...” he started, but stopped himself. 

Ariennu knew he had been about to say: Your servant begs you. She lulled him to sleep in her arms as a strange, unearthly calm stole over her. She needed to ask the Count why he felt it was necessary to dose his king so heavily. 

Tell us about your latest project

I have a short story going into Dreamtime Damsels and Fatal Femmes released this September. The story is Miss Hattie and the Hoppers and takes 2 characters from my Egyptian series (as they are very bright and semi-immortal) traveling through time. They have run into a problem in East Tennessee in 1876. An old maid schoolmarm joins them while trying to solve the mystery of her sister’s disappearance. 

What is your favourite cake?

I am particularly fond of red velvet cake if I can get a moist piece with cream cheese frosting. I don’t eat cake very often these days.

It's a great cake choice, Mary! You can follow Mary on Twitter and Facebook, all her books are available on Amazon. 

Join me next week when I'll be having a slice of cake with Kirsten McTiernan.

If you would like to take part in A Slice of Cake With... please fill in the form found here. I'd be delighted to have you.

You can also support my writing endeavours and buy me tea & cake - it's what makes the world go round!

Claire Buss is a multi-genre author and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.