Tonight at supper, over capon and relish, my father ruined my life.

He smiled big, scrubbed his lips with the end of his cloak and said, “We’re moving house.”

“Thank the Blessed Virgin!”  I sat up straighter and smoothed my kirtle. “I’m weary to thimbles of Coventry.  Will we be back at Edgeley Hall in time for the Maypole?”

“No, sweeting.  We’re not going back to Edgeley.  We’re moving to Caernarvon.”

“What in God’s Name is that?”

“It’s a town in Wales.”

I’m in my chamber now.  I will never speak to him again.

Unless he buys me a new pelisson for the journey.

Copyright © 2012 J. Anderson Coats

About the book:

Medieval teens behaving badly in English-occupied Wales.

What people are saying:

“Brilliant: a vision of history before the victors wrote it.”–Kirkus, starred review

“I am gobsmacked by this astonishing story. This is a remarkable achievement, full of truth and compassion.”—Karen Cushman, Newbery Medal-winning author of The Midwife’s Apprentice

“[An] unusually honest portrait of the effects of power…[Coats] offers us a potent historical novel.”–Horn Book, starred review

“A rich historical novel that challenges readers to think about universal ideas, such as true justice.”—VOYA

Released: April 17, 2012

About the author:

J. Anderson Coats has dug for crystals, held Lewis and Clark’s original hand-written journal and been a mile underground. She has a cool surgery scar unrelated to childbirth, she reads Latin, and she’s been given the curse of Cromwell on a back-road in Connemara. On a clear day, she can see the Olympic mountains from her front window. On the foggy ones, she can smell the Puget Sound. Visit her at