Enemies to Lovers: Publishing Hear Ye

Enemies to Lovers: Publishing Hear Ye

May 16, 2024

“I want you to make my life miserable,” Sagar said again, taking a step forward, “I want you to be stupid and nick treasures from the people who talk a little too much. I want to see you come in with your troupe and dance and tease them after the performance. I want, I, I need you to stay in Vyagar.”

Author Ragsweas

When Rags approached me with the idea of Hear Ye, we were thinking along the lines of something Tolkienian. Having spent a lot of life on Ao3 reading Bagginshield, we knew what we wanted...but then Hear Ye began to take a life of it's own. From a story about climate change in a fantasy world where the Chief of Guard falls for a miner, to a thief working closely with the queen, to what it eventually began- Hear Ye became the book that got me back into reading.

And publishing it was a joy.

Did I ever get to read the book in its entirety? The author wouldn't let me.

No spoilers.

Eventually, to keep the mystery alive, the decision was made that the last bits? They will be edited by the author alone. The marketing for the book has begun, and I- the publisher- still don't know who the person trying to kill Queen Ira is.

And boy, I can tell you a ton of stories about this book and the publishing process. Like how the Bayniks were born because only humans being the non-magical species, while all the fantasy creatures were othered, seemed racist to my fiancé. Or how Alfar and Sagar's first meeting was in a jail cell and never made it to the book. Or how Sagar was not always called Sagar. Or the bad bad cover I made.

But those are stories my fanfition buddy Ragsweas should tell with me. Instead, I will take a moment to fangirl over this desi!fantasy, murder mystery enemies-to-lovers book (btw, I think enemies-to-lovers ca be a very toxic trope and Cinema Therapy agrees). Here's a poem about Sagar and Alfar.

A Tale Unlike Any You Have Heard Before

 

Come, come, come hither.,

I have a story to tell

A song to sing, a tale to weave,

Come, come, come hither,

And be ensnared.

In the tale of a of a thief,

A thief so majestic!

For he was no petty criminal,

No, not he.

He was a dancer, a magician almost

In the way he spun tales with his hands and feet.

And against him, seething stood a mountain of a man

In sirat rather than surat

Holding onto wounds dealt unknowingly,

Building on past hate,

Such was the Chief’s state.

But hate must give way when knowledge arrives,

In knowing another empathy does rise,

Repentance can lead to forgiveness,

Some mistakes can be undone,

And in the midst of that, who knows, good sir,

You might find that you have walked yourself to love.

That was the tale of a thief and a guard,

But truly sir, it was the tale of two broken lonely hearts

Looking for a heart to call their own and theirs alone

A thief that was no criminal in soul,

And a guard who had multitudes to unfold.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye, you folk,

A new tale,

Of a guard who for a thief fell heart and soul.

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