Excerpt from Euphoria by Lily King, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

'Shit,' Fen muttered. 'Bloody hell.'

The anger seemed to send a surge of something down there, and suddenly it shot out of their hands, huge, hard, and flushed purple.

'Stick it in,' Fen said. 'Stick it in right now.'

There was no reasoning with him, no speaking of dryness or timing or oncoming fevers or lesions that would open when rubbed against the linen sheets. They would leave bloody stains and the Taway maids would think it was menstrual blood and have to burn them for superstitious reason, these beautiful fresh clean sheets.

She stuck it in. The small sections of her flesh that did not hurt were numb if not dead. Fen pumped against her. When it was over, he said, 'There's your baby.'

'At least a leg or two,' she said, as soon as she could trust her voice.

He laughed. The Mumbanyo believed it took many times to make a whole baby. 'We'll get to the arms later tonight.' He swiveled his face to hers and kissed her. 'Now let's get ready for that party.'

There was an enormous Christmas tree in the far corner. It looked real, as if they'd shipped it from New Hampshire. The room was crowded with men mostly, owners and overseers, river drivers and government kiaps, crocodile hunters with their smelly taxidermists, traders, smugglers, and a few harddrinking ministers. The pretty women from the boat seemed to glow, each at the center of her own ring of men. Taway servants wore white aprons and carried trays of champagne. They had long limbs and long, narrow noses, unmarked by piercings or scarring. They were, she guessed, a nonwarring people like the Anapa. What would happen if they ever put a governor's station down the Yuat River? You couldn't tie a white apron on a Mumbanyo. You'd get your neck slit if you tried.

She took a glass from a tray held out to her. On the other side of the room, beyond the tray and the arm of the Taway man who held it, she saw a man beside the tree, a man quite possibly taller than the tree, touching a branch with his fingers.

Without her glasses, my face would have been little more than a pinkish smudge among many, but she seemed to know it was me as soon as I lifted my head.

Excerpted from Euphoria by Lily King. Copyright © 2014 by Lily King. Excerpted by permission of Atlantic Monthly Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.