BLAST, BLITZ, PROMOS, REVEALS, & TOURS . . . : SPOTLIGHT w/INTERVIEW - FAIRYTALE RETELLING - MAIDEN TOMB (Twelve cursed Maidens, #1) by Cynthia Sally Haggard

Maiden Tomb

Twelve Cursed Maidens, #1

by Cynthia Sally Haggard

Publication Date: ‎ February 4th 2025

Publisher: ‎Cynthia Sally Haggard Press

Genre: Fairytale Retelling, Fantasy

ASIN: ‎ B0DNWVFZ81

Tagline: Would you marry a stranger to free your sisters from imprisonment?

BLURB

In this retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses, sixteen-year-old Justice wants to release her sisters from the maw of Father's imprisonment. But what can she do? The easiest way would be to find suitors for them.

However, that is not so easy, for Justice's elder sisters are strange. What with All-Gifted's madness, Protectress's hair writhing with snakes, Death-Bringer's grief (not to mention her strange name), Shining's too-overt sexuality, Maiden's tart tongue, Shadow's crippling shyness, no sensible man would want her sisters as wives. Which leaves Justice, the seventh daughter, the one who possesses a quiet authority.

Justice has already acquired an admirer in the shape of Lord Nobody, who proclaims his undying love for her. But what does he really want? And doesn't he have a wife already?

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P r o l o g u e ~ The Twelve Mysterious Daughters
Playful speaks

In the past week or so since we’ve arrived, life has taken on a predictable rhythm. I spend the mornings entertaining the ladies of the castle, with the lyre, my singing, playing knucklebones, and listening to their gossip. Truth to tell, nothing they say is particularly interesting as high-born ladies spend their time inside. When they are not diverting themselves with such pastimes as I provide, they are spinning, weaving, running the household, and caring for their children. They talk incessantly about their children. They know little of the outside world.
I escape after the midday meal, taking advantage of the ladies’ habit of resting as the sun’s chariot crests at the highest point of the day. While they sleep, I head out into the scorching countryside looking for Father.
We sit together in the shade, while Father does some task, usually repairing something, while I tell him everything I’ve learned the evening before. It is not that hard. Because I am small, and people are now familiar with my face, no one pays me any mind as I take my seat at the bench that runs along the side of the huge table where all the working folk of the castle eat their meals.
Father has told me never to be inquisitive, but I am dying to know more about the twelve mysterious ladies locked up in the castle tower, the ones people whisper about behind their hands when they think no-one is noticing.
As the light of the sun drains from the sky, as the king’s men sink lower onto wooden benches eating dish after dish, quail, pheasant, peacock, duck, eggs, bread, olive oil, wine, and olives, the noise of seven hundred men sharing jokes, laughing, and swilling wine reverberates around the hall.
Finally, I can take it no more."Is it true what they say about the King’s daughters?"
The grizzled stranger on the bench next to me wipes the grease off his mouth with the back of a hand and spits out an olive pit.
"Where’ve you popped up from? You shouldn’t be here. You’re only a young lad."
I am used to these remarks. After I left home I took a ship that was blown off course, taking me west to the land of the Italoi. I had to beg for money in the streets and in the taverns and it was not long before I heard news of Father, who was sailing to the west of this land.
And so I made my way across steep mountains before coming down to a lush plain. Playing my lyre to entertain strangers I followed their directions to the sea, to a wide bay within sight of a simmering, high, conical-shaped mountain.
And there, in a tavern, I met Father.
Now we are traveling home together. But Father is not here on the bench beside me, as he should be, but outside at a nearby farm pretending to be a stable hand.
This is one of Father’s clever strategies. He is a master at extracting information. He calls his strategy "divide and conquer" and it means that I have to use my lyre to find a berth for the night in some local chieftain’s house. This is not usually difficult, especially if there are ladies around because for some reason they always want to pet me.
Meanwhile, Father finds work on the outside as a shepherd, farmhand, or stable boy. By concealing his origins and pretending to be dumb, drunk, or both, Father is able to overhear a great many things. We have a plan to meet every day at noon, I escaping the blandishments of the ladies to visit the local farm for milk, cheese, eggs where I could happen upon the new stable boy, farmhand, or shepherd.
The only fly in the ointment is my age. I am only twelve years old and to my great annoyance, I look it. So Father made me memorize some phrases to offer when this issue arises.
"Father is here with me, but is suffering with an ache to his belly."
One sentence is usually enough for most people. Father has instructed me never to offer explanations that are not asked for as it only makes people more curious.
But the fellow is staring at me, waiting for more.
I turn my eyes down. "Father told me to eat supper and then berth with him in the stable yard."
"He’s the new stable hand, is he?"
I nod.
"Much good he’ll be with a bellyache."
I look up. "Do you have a remedy for that good sir?"
Father always stresses the importance of asking for advice when a conversation turns sour, as it flatters the vanity.
The fellow hawks and spits, rising from his seat. "You’ll have to go to the kitchens for that, son." He ambles off.
I return to my meal, hoping the others will forget about me and the conversation I’ve just had. Fortunately, it is that time of the meal when men turn tipsy. Pretty soon they are laughing, singing, and telling dirty jokes. One song goes like this:
"There once was a king with twelve daughters—"
—"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters," sing the others in an out-of-tune chorus.
"But he refused to marry them off—"
—"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters!"
"And why did he refuse to marry them off?"
—"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters!
"Because they would make unsuitable wives—"
—"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters!"
"The eldest is mad.
The second is bad.
The third is sad.
The fourth too bold.
The fifth too shrill.
The sixth too shy.
The seventh too just.
While the eighth loves her father too much—Ha! Ha!
The eighth loves her father too much!
The ninth is a boy.
The tenth a mermaid.
The eleventh a goddess.
While the twelfth has only five years, five years,
The twelfth daughter has only five years."
"Do not touch!" yells someone to guffawing laughter.
The men pick up their song again:
"But the one you need to watch for is number four, number four,
The one you need to watch for is number four.
For the fourth daughter is a very naughty girl,
With large bold eyes and a nearly naked form—"
This goes on for some time. The fourth daughter seems to fascinate the men. I chew thoughtfully. Somehow, I must find a way of meeting her.
I turn to another man. "Is it true he locked all twelve of his daughters up in a high tower?"
The man nods.
"Why are they going on about the fourth daughter? I thought it was the eldest who dishonored the family name—"
"Keep your voice down," hisses the fellow. He looks around and then stares back at me from under bushy brows. "Your information is quite good, boy. Most of what you say is true."
"Which part is false?"
The fellow rises to his feet. "If you’ll take my advice, you’ll keep your mouth shut. Folk pay with their lives by asking too many questions." He glances around and draws his forefinger across his throat.
"But—" I gesture to the men singing lustily.
"They’re drunk."
"But—" I say again. But the man vanishes into the press of sweaty male bodies.
Outside, it is a lovely evening with a couple more hours to run before the sun dips below the trees. The castle tower stands up like a finger, a beckoning, a warning, that people can see for miles around. If their eyesight is good, they will see a window set high in the tower, just underneath the tiled roof. On a fine day, the window unlatched, the wind carries the sound of voices, the high sound of girls’ voices gossiping, chattering, giggling. Now, on this late summer evening, someone closes that high window shut. I catch a glimpse of a heart-shaped face with deep-set dark-grey eyes, and light-brown hair drawn back into a braid. Which daughter could she be? Not number four, for she is dressed modestly in a light woolen robe dyed a soft grey to match her eyes.
I lift my head to the moon, a thin fingernail of a crescent. A shiver runs up my spine. Something is going to happen within the month, I can feel it. This place hums with suppressed tensions.

Father will be so interested when I see him tomorrow.

Author Info

Cynthia Sally Haggard was born and reared in Surrey, England.

About 40 years ago, she surfaced in the United States, inhabiting the Mid-Atlantic region as she wound her way through four careers: violinist, cognitive scientist, medical writer, and novelist.

Her first novel, Thwarted Queen, a saga set in 1400s England with a Game of Thrones vibe, won the 2021 Gold Medal IPPY Award for Audiobook. Her second novel, Farewell My Life, a dark historical about a hidden murderer, won the 2021 Independent Press Award for Women’s Fiction and was a 2019 Distinguished Favorite for the New York City Big Book Award. (Farewell is now a set of four novellas that make up the Grace Miller series.)

Maiden Tomb, the first of four projected novellas that will form the Twelve Cursed Maidens series, was a 2026 Distinguished Favorite for the Independent Press Award. Cynthia graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University, Cambridge MA, in June 2015.

When she’s not annoying everyone by insisting her fictional characters are more real than they are, Cynthia likes to go for long walks, knit something glamorous, cook in her wonderful kitchen, and play the piano.

The Book Junkie Reads . . . Interview with . . . Cynthia Sally Haggard . . .

How would you describe your style of writing to someone who has never read your work?

Some reviewers have told me that I have a unique style of writing. That is because I use a lot of gerunds that I don’t always connect with the preposition “and.”

Let’s take a look at a couple of scenes that convey the same emotions, but in different ways.

“Lily!” he called. “Where are you?” He opened the door.

His wife sat on the sofa. She glared at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“As if you care to know!” She got up and flounced off. She banged the door behind her.

This is how I would write this scene.

“Lily! Where are you?”

Opening the door he spotted his wife sitting on the sofa, glaring.

She was glaring at him.

He came forward. “What’s wrong?”

“As if you care to know!” Rising, she flounced off, banging the door behind her.

A gerund is a verb that has an “ing” ending in English. I use it often as it conveys movement. And I like to have the reader moving through a scene rather than staying put, as I think it is more interesting.

Do you feel that writing is an ingrained process or just something that flows naturally for you?

Nowadays, it seems to flow naturally. But I had to work very hard to get to that point. When I started out writing fiction over twenty years ago, my writing style was academic and filled with jargon. That is because for the past fifteen years, I’d been working in Academia as a Cognitive Scientist. I had to design and run experiments. I had to find subjects and gather data. Then I had to write up my results in as clear a fashion as I could manage.

It wasn’t until I tried my hand at fiction, that I realized how limited my writing style was. You see, when you do science, the words you use are propped up by the facts you are trying to convey. But when you write fiction, you don’t have any props. The words have to carry all of the weight.

And so I started taking courses. I was lucky enough to be invited to the 2005 Harper’s Ferry Writing Workshop hosted by Michael Neff, who did a terrific job of teaching story-telling mechanics. I took similar courses in San Francisco. Eventually, I found my way to the Low Residence MFA Program in Creative Writing at Lesley University in Cambridge Massachusetts.

The professors there were wonderful. But they didn’t teach story-telling mechanics. Instead, they focused on character development and word choice. And so, I learned an important lesson—that the reason why so many literary novels are not that interesting to read is because their authors focus on character and word choice, but don’t deploy story-telling mechanics.

However, I do, as I believe that the reason why most readers pick up a book is because they want to lose themselves in a great yarn. Yes, beautiful prose and interesting characters are important. But the reader wants to be drawn into the story.

As an author, you do that by teasing the reader constantly throughout the novel, so that they are dying to know what happens next. As I see myself primarily as an entertainer, who has a lot to say, that is how I have chosen to write my novels, novellas and short stories.

Have you found yourself bonding with any particular characters(s)? If so, which ones?

Yes. I seem to bond with most of my strong female characters.

My first novel, THWARTED QUEEN is a fictionalized biography of Lady Cecylee Neville (1415-1495). She became Duchess of York and an important political player during the Wars of the Roses, which erupted in 1455 and lasted over thirty years.

There was so little to go on about Cecylee, as medieval women were not deemed important enough to talk about by the monks who did the scribing. However, I was able to glean that Cecylee was a strong-minded woman who had her husband, the powerful Duke of York, wound around her little finger. It also seemed probable (to me at least) that she probably had an affair with a handsome archer that resulted in the birth of a baby boy who, later on, became King Edward IV of England.

I am still very fond of Cecylee. For all her many faults, she was an intelligent, charming woman, with a mischievous streak.

My second novel, originally called FAREWELL MY LIFE and now titled THE HIDDEN MURDERER series is more autobiographical. It concerns a 17-year-old girl who went to Berlin in the 1920s to study the violin. Naturally she has a fabulous talent. Of course, she is extremely good-looking.

Grace, my violinist, was meant to be the main character. But, of course, I gave myself a mountain to climb by making Grace extremely shy. And not given to talking much!

Violet, her slightly older sister, was an entirely different matter. She was meant to be a minor character, whom I planned to get rid of so that I could focus on Grace. But Violet had other ideas. She decided she was going to stay. But her liveliness and witty retorts put her sister in the shade. However, far from resenting her, I grew very fond of her. I loved her lively personality, her common sense, and her street smarts.

My third piece, the TWELVE CURSED MAIDENS series is, like THE HIDDEN MURDERER series, a series of four novellas.

In Volume One, MAIDEN TOMB, my main character is 16-year-old Justice, the seventh daughter of a cruel father and dead mother. MAIDEN TOMB is a retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses folktale with elements of Greek Mythology woven in. So Justice has eleven sisters to cope with. Their father has locked all of them up in a tower, and they are desperate to leave. Especially as Justice’s elder sisters are all ladies in their early to late twenties, with the eldest princess being an elderly thirty years. The elder princesses bear the mental scars from their long imprisonment. And so it falls to Justice to set them free.

What I loved most about Justice was her quiet authority. Despite the fact that she is only sixteen, she exudes a maturity that is far beyond her years.

Can you share your next creative project? If yes, can you give a few details?

I am in the middle of writing THE TWELVE CURSED MAIDENS a series of four novellas.

I have already written Volume One, MAIDEN TOMB, which you can find on Amazon and other places.

I am planning to publish Volume Two, MAIDEN FORGOTTEN on 12 January 2027!

MAIDEN TOMB is a retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses folktale. But the rest of the series is not like The Zodiac Academy, where you follow the same cast of characters through their story arc as each new volume arrives.

No. My series is quite different. You see each further volume focuses on a character from the folktale. MAIDEN FORGOTTEN focuses on the father of TDP, the one who locks his daughters up in a tower. Now what would happen if that father happened to be Genghis Khan?

Volume Three, MAIDEN SACRIFICE focuses on the soldier from TDP. This is the young man who figured out why the twelve princesses were disappearing each night, only to return with their slippers in shreds.

MAIDEN SACRIFICE is set in Bronze Age Athens, around 1800 BCE, at a time when The Iliad, The Epic of Gilgamesh and The Rig Veda were composed. It is also when the Trojan War occurred.

Now what would you do if your foster mother threatened to sacrifice you to Athena to save the City of Athens? Especially if you were not the maiden requested but a mother of seven under the age of eight?

Volume Four, MAIDEN WARRIOR focuses on the old woman from TDP. She is the person who told the soldier not to drink the wine offered by the eldest princess, as it is drugged. In the folktale, this woman had been offering this advice to all the young men who came to try their luck. But the only one who listened was the soldier. As a result, he not only won the hand of the eldest princess, but he also saved his life. For, according to the Brothers Grimm, all the other suitors were executed.

MAIDEN WARRIOR is set at the end of the Ice Age, around 9,700 BCE.

Now what would you do if the High God Zeus punished your people by appearing in a swirl of flames and searing cold, causing droughts, fires, plagues, and destructive whirlpools of water that destroy your city?

Where would you flee?

And how would you protect yourself from Zeus’s wrath in the future?

Behind the ruined slippers lies a true story of unimaginable devastation in an era of Ice and Fire.

If you could have dinner party with 7 fictional characters, who would they be?

Elizabeth Bennet from Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, for her “pert remarks.”

Prudence and Robin Tremaine and their father Lord Barham, from Georgette Heyer’s The Masqueraders, for their devilish cleverness.

Thea and Lepida Pollia from Kate Quinn’s Mistress of Rome. Lepida Pollia is a spoiled rich aristocratic girl who is pretty clueless. Thea is her clever slave.

Violet Miller, from my series of novellas THE HIDDEN MURDERER, for her sassy comebacks.