When Your Safest Person Becomes Your Greatest Threat

There is a particular kind of danger that only comes from loving someone for a very long time.

They know where to cut. They know the wounds you hide from everyone else. They know what you fear. What you regret. What you would never survive hearing from them.

And you know the same about them.

That is what makes broken trust so terrifying. Your greatest enemy isn't always the person standing across the battlefield. Sometimes, it's the person who once stood beside you.

And for Eradena, there are two enemies more dangerous than any Royal Guard, any Queen, or any rebellion: Herself.

And Malachi. Because Malachi knows her. And Eradena knows him. They've spent years collecting pieces of each other: memories, fears, weaknesses, promises, secrets. Things once entrusted because they believed the other person was safe.

But what happens when that trust breaks? What happens when the person who knows how to protect you also knows exactly how to destroy you?

Suddenly, the Cord between you isn't a safety net anymore.

It's a noose. And that is the danger quietly brewing beneath The Cord Between Two Queens.

Secrets. Half-truths. Promises made without the other person knowing. Choices disguised as protection.

Because that's the cruel thing about secrets: Sometimes we keep them because we love someone. And sometimes those same secrets are exactly what turn our greatest allies into our worst enemies.

Which brings us to the question sitting at the heart of The Cord Between Two Bloods:

What is trust?

Is it something earned? Is it blind faith? Is it believing someone would never hurt you?

Or is trust knowing they could, and giving them the blade anyway?

Because this story has never promised that love fixes everything. It promises something much more difficult.

That love can endure truth. Betrayal. The moment the person you thought you knew becomes someone you no longer recognize. And the terrifying realization that despite everything…

the Cord is still there.

Next week, I'll tell you why that scares the Kingdom more than open defiance ever could.

But until then, Wielder Walkers, remember this:

The most dangerous person isn't always your enemy. Sometimes…it's the person who knows exactly where your Cord is tied.

That’s Book 2 vibes for you.

The Revolution of Becoming

Sometimes pretending is more than an escape. Sometimes, pretending is self-expression. Think about all the versions of yourself you've tried on throughout your life.

The clothes you weren't sure you could pull off. The hobby you almost didn't try. The dream you whispered instead of saying out loud.

Sometimes we pretend because we're curious.

What if I did this?
What if I wore that?
What if I said yes?
What if I stopped being afraid of what everyone else thought?

And somewhere inside all that pretending, we start learning something very real about ourselves. What we like. What we don't. What we want. What we've outgrown. What we're finally ready to become.

Maybe pretending isn't about becoming someone you're not.

Maybe it's about meeting someone inside yourself you haven't given permission to exist yet.

That's why I think pretending can be both a revolution and a revelation.

Revolution says: I don't want to be this anymore.

Revelation answers: Then let me show you what else you could be.

One destroys the boundaries. The other reveals what was waiting beyond them. And I think that's exactly what happens to Eradena.

Her revolution is loud. There are flames. There is blood. There is defiance. There is a Kingdom determined to tell her who she is supposed to be.

Princess.

Daughter.

Heir.

Obedient.

But the most important part of Eradena's revolution isn't what she destroys. It's what she discovers.

Because once Eradena stops shrinking herself to fit inside the Kingdom's expectations, she has to answer a much harder question: Who am I when no one else gets to decide for me?

That's the part of revolution we don't talk about enough.

Revolutions are loud. What comes after is quieter, and harder.

Once you finally say no, you have to decide what you'll say yes to.

Once Eradena stops shrinking, she must decide what kind of ruler she will become. Once love survives defiance, it must survive consequence.

Once you've torn down everything that told you who you were supposed to be...you have to build something in its place.

Maybe that's why imagination matters so much.

The Power of Pretending

One of my favorite holidays has always been Halloween. Halloween gave me permission to play pretend.

And somewhere along the way, I think we were taught that pretending was something we were supposed to outgrow.

We stopped building imaginary worlds.

Stopped becoming warriors, villains, and heroes.

Stopped believing, even for a few minutes, that we could step outside of ourselves and become something else.

But I never really stopped.

I just started calling it writing.

Every time I sit down to write, I get to disappear for a little while.

For a few minutes, or sometimes a few hours, I get to walk through X-Wielder Realm. I get to stand beside men and women who refuse to stay silent. I get to watch kingdoms fall, ancient truths surface, forbidden love take root, and people discover that the power they were searching for was already inside them.

For me, writing is an escape.

But I’ve realized it’s also a reset.

Because sometimes our minds need somewhere else to go.

We spend so much of our lives being practical. Responsible. Productive. We carry jobs, families, expectations, deadlines, grief, ambition, and a thousand invisible responsibilities no one else can see.

And imagination gives us somewhere to set all of that down.

Even if only for a chapter.

That’s what pretending gives me.

Permission to release.
Permission to create.
Permission to wonder.
Permission to become.

Halloween may officially come once a year.

But as a writer?

I get Halloween every day.

And somehow, you decided to come play pretend with me.

You walked into this strange little world I created. You learned about Auras, Kingdom Guards, and Sacred Stones. You followed cords through generations. You cared about people who never existed anywhere except inside my imagination until I put them on a page.

And now they exist inside yours, too.

There is something incredibly powerful about that.

So thank you. Thank you for letting my escape become yours. Thank you for pretending with me. And thank you for reminding me that imagination isn't something we have to leave behind when we grow up.

Sometimes, imagination is exactly how we find our way back to ourselves.

And if you've stayed this long, then you already understand: This collection is about lineage, love, and lore.

But we're nowhere near finished.

More stories are coming.

More women will rise.
More truths will surface.
More kingdoms will be challenged.
More cords will tighten.

And you'll be here when they do.

Until then, Wielder Walker—

Never stop playing pretend.

Eradena’s Story Continues Through You

I’ve probably read Book 2’s manuscript at least 5 times already and something inside Eradena’s arc is changing.

She’s trying to flex. And she’s faced with questions like this:

Have you ever been afraid of what the world might think if you really let yourself loose?

Not the careful version of you.
Not the version that knows when to stay quiet, when to shrink, when to soften the edges.

I mean you.

The loud you.
The strange you.
The passionate you.
The ambitious you.
The complicated, imperfect, still figuring it out you.

Sometimes we search for spaces where we can exist without judgment. We find little outlets where we can reveal pieces of ourselves, the parts we think the world is ready to see.

But I’ve been thinking…

What if I stopped asking the world for permission to be myself?

What if I decided that people could take me as I am?

Because sometimes when we hold pieces of ourselves back, we tell ourselves we're protecting everyone else from the full effect of who we are.

But maybe we're actually protecting ourselves.

From judgment.
From rejection.
From being misunderstood.

And yes, showing people who you really are means giving them the opportunity to decide what they think of you.

But it also gives them something else:

The opportunity to love the real you.

You deserve relationships, friendships, communities, and spaces where you don't have to constantly edit yourself to belong.

And the people who are meant to walk beside you?

Let them meet you.

Not the watered down version.
Not the easier to digest version.
Not the version built around everyone else's comfort.

You.

Maybe that's one of the reasons stories like ours matter.

Stories don't stay contained on the page.

They challenge the way we think about power.
Consent.
Loyalty.
Love.
Identity.

And sometimes, they remind us that becoming who we're meant to be isn't about transforming into someone new.

It's about finally having the courage to stop hiding who was already there.

So flex a little this week.

Wear the thing.
Say the thing.
Love the thing.
Write the thing.
Laugh too loudly.
Take up a little more space.

The world can handle the full effect of you.

And the right people?

They might love you even more for it.

Next week, I’ll tell you what comes after the reckoning.

Because stories move when readers do.

Revolutions Are Spread By Permission And Not By Force.

Once Eradena stops apologizing for her existence, others begin to breathe easier too.

Revolutions were spread by permission and not force.

Maybe that's why this has become one of my favorite moments to write.

Because I've lived it.

I know what it's like to spend years making yourself smaller because someone else was afraid of what you might become. To believe hiding your gift was safer than carrying it. To silence pieces of yourself for so long that, even after the voices that taught you to shrink were gone... you forgot how to rise.

Until someone reminded you of not who they wanted you to be.

But about who you’ve always been.

Sometimes our lives change because someone gives us permission to speak.

Sometimes they change because we finally realize we never needed permission at all.

That's Eradena's journey.

And, in many ways, it's been mine too.

Perhaps the story isn't only about finding Eradena's voice.

Perhaps it's about remembering your own.

“The turquoise waters lulled; my reflection stilled. The skin under my eyes was dark as sin, muscles strained to smile, lips dull and ashen.”— Eradena, The Cord Between Two Queens (Book I), Chapter 1

When I wrote those lines, I was thinking of my former modeling days — when I’d sit in a makeup chair, heart pounding under “perfect” skin. Or when I’d step onto a runway in my late teens and early twenties, wearing confidence like a costume and lipstick named Prestige like battle armor.

Makeup was my war paint.
Not for beauty —but for survival.

To pretend I wasn’t scared.
To pretend I wasn’t exhausted.
To pretend I wasn’t breaking under the weight of being “enough.”

I didn’t want people to see the loneliness under the gloss…or the fear that if they did, they’d turn away.

And yet — here’s the truth I wrote into Eradena’s bones:

Presence is more powerful than perfection.
Showing up is more powerful than pretending.

So today, I’m asking you — my Wielder Walkers, my story family —

Let’s stop hiding.

Let’s stop armoring up with “I’m fine.”
Let’s stop mistaking polish for power.

Show up messy.
Show up real.
Show up brave in your rawness.

If Eradena can face kingdoms and ghosts and the crushing weight of destiny, we can face a world that sometimes expects flawless faces and flawless lives.

Because we are building something different here. A community that celebrates courage, not cosmetics.

Truth, not performance.
Presence over prestige — every single time.

So here’s your call to arms:

Reply to this email and finish this sentence:

“When I take off my armor, what I really want is ______.”

Let’s see each other.
Really see each other.
No war paint. No filter. No apology.

Because power doesn’t come from pretending.
It comes from standing in the truth of who we are — together.

Eradena’s Lesson on Pain, Power, and Connection

I can’t write what I don’t know.

Every chapter I’ve written is stitched from something real — a memory, a wound, a quiet ache, a prayer I never said out loud. Some are pieces of my own story. Others are gifts to friends and family who’ve walked through heartbreak, loss, betrayal, and the kind of despair that makes the world feel very small and very dark.

Each chapter, in its own way, is a letter:

“I hear you.
I see you.
You’re not alone.”

We all carry our own catalog of pain, grief that lingers, shame that whispers, moments that marked us so deeply they still echo. It’s easy to believe those moments ruined something in us. That they disqualified us. That if we’d been stronger, wiser, better, we wouldn’t hurt the way we do.

But here’s the quiet truth I keep writing toward, and the lesson Eradena begins to learn:

What if the things that broke us are also the things that make us better at loving others?

What if every painful experience becomes a language that allows us to recognize hurt in someone else’s eyes… and respond with something gentler than judgment?

What if your story, instead of being something to hide, is the bridge someone else will someday need?

Eradena’s journey is not just about power, duty, or destiny. It’s about this:
Learning that her scars are not liabilities. They are blueprints for connection.
Without them, she might never understand the people she is called to protect.

And the same might be true for you.

So I want to gently challenge you:

• Is there a part of your story you’ve only seen as damage… that might actually be preparation?

• Is there a moment you’ve tried to erase that could become empathy for someone standing where you once stood?

• Is there someone in your life right now who needs your, “I’ve been there. You’re not alone”?

Your pain is real.
So is your power.

“...markers wash away every rainy season. Trees fall and change the turf, time takes its toll, and tribes toil…”

When I wrote that line into King Derreck’s dialogue to Eradena up on Twin Peaks in Chapter 1, I remember shaking my head as the plot twists tangled in my mind. Despair had its grip on me, and I could only land on one truth:
History repeats itself.

In this endless hamster wheel of human behavior, we keep forgetting what we already know.

And for a heartbeat, I felt helpless.

But then, hope whispered back.

When Sister Eliora spoke her prophecy to Eradena in Chapter 12, “A Kingdom that has not yet come…”, something inside me shifted. Hope broke through like tulip heads pushing past cold dirt, defying frost at the end of winter.

That’s what The Cord Between Two Queens is truly about: Hope, stitched through despair. A woman who should have none, yet still rises to claim everything, or lose it all if she chooses to surrender.

Chapter 14 carries that weight for me personally. I wrote it while grieving the loss of my Auntie Rose, whose life still moves quietly through mine.

Grief gave Eradena her beginning.
But grief also gave her life.

Consider this concept, my dearest Wielder Walker:
Death in the X-Wielder Realm has no claim on life.

The Soundtrack of Shadowlight

Ever wondered what I was listening to while writing through Malachi and Eradena’s tangled hearts?

Well, my dear Wielder Walker, I’ve got you covered. Here’s the entire playlist that kept me company on Spotify. ✨

There’s just something about instrumental music at dawn, when the world is still dreaming, and the tea hasn’t decided whether to save or betray me. Just after sunrise, my imagination comes alive. The music opens the door, and the story steps through like mist.

But after 5 p.m.? Oh, it’s a different kind of magic entirely.

🕔 At sunrise writing sounds like:

“The sky bled crimson.”

🕕 At sundown writing sounds like:

“The sky is… red.” (Send help.)

So, if you want to step inside my writing cocoon, the early morning soundscape where the X-Wielder Realm comes alive, you can find it all here:
🎧 [Listen to the Writing Playlist on Spotify]

ALSO…Want to know what I’m reading next?

Click this link for more info!

Until the next sunrise session, my Wielder Walker.

With love and shadowlight in this new year,
💋 RoBé

The Two Times I Ugly Cried Into A Pillow

There are two times I’ve absolutely sobbed into a pillow during this adventure I call writing.

Incident #1:
When I submitted the first draft of The Cord Between Two Queens (Book I) to my editor and got it back looking like a crime scene of red comments.
Over 1,000 notes.
Every. Single. Page.
I cried for three days straight and then spent four more days patching my ego together with caffeine and delusion.

Incident #2:
Launch week.
The dopamine was dopamin-ing.
I watched my Amazon rank climb, my name hit a Top 10 list, and my serotonin levels did a backflip.
I was on cloud nine.
Then, a week later… BOOM. Numbers dropped. Mood dropped. Self-esteem packed its bags and moved to the basement.

Imperfection became my sword and somehow, I was the one bleeding.

But here’s why I’m telling you this (besides the fact that I clearly have no chill):

Somewhere in the middle of that beautiful mess, I realized something.

Gratitude is a choice.
And sometimes, it’s the only thing that keeps you from eating your feelings and rage-refreshing your sales dashboard.

When I finally processed all those big feelings, I remembered—I am surrounded by incredible people.

People who showed up.
Who believed.
Who rallied.

And that includes you.

So from the bottom of my overly caffeinated heart:
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for reminding me that success isn’t just in the numbers—
It’s in the connection.

And speaking of connection, I was able to connect with an author named Gwyneth Lesley. Her book “Odette’s Vow” is what I’m reading now! If you’re interested, click this link for more info!

With love, laughter, and a side of shadow light,
💋 The Real RoBé

The Real RoBé

I write fantasy with sex, slaughter, and a splash of spiritual warfare—basically, foreplay with swords. My worlds are packed with tension, betrayal, and enough slow burns to set kingdoms on fire. Expect enemies-to-lovers, love triangles, forced proximity, deadly trials, and the kind of sexy tension that feels like war.

When I’m not torturing fictional characters, I’m wrangling a kid, a husband, two Mini Aussies, and a pair of beta fish who judge me daily. I love drinking high tea, but only if I can spike it.

Photography by: ERC Photography LLC (Evie Richards-Cashman)