LA waitress to princess on the run . . .

This one has an odd history in that the first half of the story (not the first half of the novel) occurred to me in the early seventies, when I was working the Mythopoeic Society booth at the Renaissance Pleasure Fair, then in Malibu. I looked into the dusky light of a grove, and saw a guy wearing fantasy period garb with an air, and thought, what if he really was a prince, and no one believed it? 

And within seconds there was a story--he's visiting various worlds, people take him for an actor, and everything he says as part of his persona, and he's so good-natured he goes right along with it to see what happens . . . and he meets his hippie princess, takes her home, straight into a revolution that he's too easy-going and unworldly to see coming at him.

Ugh! I am so not writing that ending, thought I. But the story still tugged at me. Then a full generation later, when I reread it, I knew exactly where it was going. Because by then I'd seen Sun's  full-grown daughter, who trained constantly in martial arts.

I had a great deal of fun writing it, with both Mom and Sasha getting in some good, swashbuckling fun. Only Mom also has to deal with the consequences of dusting out those years ago . . .