Unrepentant, Sodrin shoved them both out the door “I promise not to give orders to hunt you down and kill you Radimar if you elope with Jahna, as long as you do so after my wedding.”
The ceremony was a grand affair, and Jahna was relieved when it was over. Radimar sneaked them both out of the post-wedding celebrations to take sanctuary in his tiny broom-closet room. He was even faster at removing their wedding clothes and demonstrating to Jahna just how much he missed her.
He slept the sleep of the sated now, and she turned back to the window, hugging the blanket she’d stolen from the bed close around her naked body. Her toes curled against the floor’s icy stone, made even colder by the snowy air that swirled through the open window.
The Firehound story, told in flame and music, was nearing its end. Soon, all the torches would be guttered and the candles snuffed as the Darkness held symbolic sway, and the world waited within the shadows of the darkest midnight.
A muscular arm wrapped around her middle and pulled her back against a wall of hard muscle. Radimar leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’ll catch your death standing there.”
Jahna tilted her head to one side so that he could nuzzle her neck. “No I won’t. Besides, we won’t be here much longer. It’s almost the darkest midnight.”
As if the crowd heard her words, the sorcerers wielded their spells and snuffed all the light in and around the palace. Except for the glitter of stars and a pale sliver of moon, the night was black as a crow’s wing. A waiting hush reigned until a whip crack of fire arched over the palace’s highest point and was followed by the flaming shape of the colossal Firehound racing across the sky. Torches and candles flared to life once more at the command of the sorcerers’ invocations and the celebrants roared their approval.
Jahna turned in Radimar’s arms and raised her face for a kiss. “See,” she said against his lips. “The longest night is over.”
He drew back to stare at her for several moments in silence. “It is, sweet Jahna. It is indeed.” He kissed her then, and behind her closed lids, Jahna saw the sun.
About Grace Draven
Grace Draven is a Louisiana native living in Texas with her husband, kids and a big, doofus dog. She has loved storytelling since forever and is a fan of the fictional bad boy. She is the winner of the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice for Best Fantasy Romance of 2014 and 2016 and a USA Today Bestselling author.
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The Chosen
by
Thea Harrison
In her visions, Lily sees two men fighting for her tiny country’s allegiance: the wolf and the tiger, each deadly, each cunning. One will bring Ys chaos and death, one a gentler path—but she’s destined to love whichever she chooses. The Midwinter masque is upon them, and the wolf is at her door…
Copyright ? 2017 by Teddy Harrison LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Thank you for reading!
1
Magic blew in on the winter wind.
As Lily stepped through great iron-bound doors and onto the slippery dock outside, the wind tugged at a lock of her hair. She breathed in deeply. The air was cold and damp, and the briny scent of the sea filled her nostrils.
Margot and the rest of the group followed her, instinctively clustering together for warmth.
Inside Camaeline Abbey, a rotation of priestesses kept a constant web of protections cast over the people who had taken shelter within, as well as the entire island. Camael was the goddess of the Hearth, and the abbey was full of brightness, warmth, companionship, and comfort.
Inside, the magic seemed little more than a nuisance.
Beyond the abbey walls was a different story. Here in the open, the atmosphere felt edgier, more perilous, as if imbued with malice.
Margot paused by Lily’s elbow, glancing at the sky.
Damned weather magic, Margot said telepathically. The caster has a hell of a range. It feels diffuse, lacking a central direction. I can’t get a clear read on where it’s originating from—can you?
Over the past six months, she and Margot had developed the habit of carrying on telepathic conversations. As long as they stood within twenty or so feet of each other, they could share insights and compare opinions in complete privacy. It was a useful trait, especially when they were around other people.
Frowning, Lily spoke slowly, feeling her way through the problem. I would need to travel some distance to be sure, but I think it’s likely several weather mages are working together. If they’re scattered across the countryside, we wouldn’t be able to track the magic back to a single source.
Several weather mages working to cast banned magic? Margot’s jaw tightened. Sometimes I hate it when you make sense.
Lily smiled at her ruefully. You only hate it when you don’t like my conclusions.
True enough. Margot made a face. Who do you think is behind it, Guerlan or Braugne?
Tension pinched the back of Lily’s neck, threatening to turn into a stress headache. I truly have no idea. It could be coming from either one—or perhaps even another kingdom is behind it.
Margot gave her a brief, grim glance. Curtly she gestured to the group, and everyone settled into their assigned positions.
Shivering, Lily tucked the errant strand of hair behind her ear with a gloved hand as she stepped into place. Along with the rest, she turned her attention to the large, squat barge that had launched from the docks of the coastal town of Calles.
The barge’s blunt prow crunched through the thin sheets of ice floating on the shallow sea around the island of Camaeline Abbey.
Winter solstice was still a week and a half away. Usually it was a season of celebration, culminating in the Masque of the Gods. This year the weather had turned unseasonably bitter, fueled over the past month by the bouts of magic cast by the unknown mages, and nobody felt like celebrating anything.
Within the next moon, the water between the island and the mainland would be frozen solid for the first time in generations. According to reports, the harvest in all the six kingdoms of Ys had been sparse, and now they faced lethal temperatures.
Lily thought of the small farmsteads dotting the countryside. If the weather mages weren’t stopped, many of them would lose much-needed livestock this winter. Probably family members as well.