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The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 – 3)

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Book Cover: The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 - 3)
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Part of the The Thirteenth Zodiac series:
  • The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 – 3)
  • Legend of Scorpio
  • Sins of Leo
  • Capture of Capricorn
  • Taurus’s Quest

Looking for a blend of science fiction and magic? This three-in-one collection features some epic heroes who are on a mission to save the world and end up falling in love.

For eons, the Zodiac Warriors, people blessed with powers by star deities, have secretly protected Earth from aliens, monsters and evil humans. When a prophecy sends them on their most challenging missions yet, they will learn that some of the toughest battles are of the heart.

Legend of Scorpio ~ Can Scorpio recover an ancient relic before it falls into the wrong hands? As if he’d fail! What’s less certain is if this bachelor is ready to relinquish the single life for love.

Sins of Leo ~ Leo’s barely holding on to his sanity. A mission is exactly the distraction he needs. What he doesn’t expect is to finally vanquish the shadows of his past and experience true happiness.

Capture of Capricorn ~ Infiltrating Area 51 to retrieve a relic might be the most dangerous mission yet, but Capricorn is always ready for a challenge. What he’s not prepared for? Falling in love.

These lighthearted, action-packed stories, will have you wishing upon a star for a warrior of your own.

Available on: 2025-10-16
Genres:
Action and Adventure, alien romance, anthology/boxset/collection, magic and sorcery, Romantic Comedy, Sci-Fi Romance
Tags:
english
If you like The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 - 3), you might be interested in:
Book Cover: Dual Abduction

Dual Abduction

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Claiming Her Geeks

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Steel Wolf

Swords & Tiaras (Books 1 – 3)

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Part of the Swords & Tiaras series:
  • Lady’s Steed
  • Queen’s Griffon
  • Consort’s Dragon
  • Swords & Tiaras (Books 1 – 3)

Embark on an epic journey where danger is around every corner, mysteries of the past come back to haunt and dragons awaken.

This collection includes three previously published titles.

Lady’s Steed ~ Avera never wanted to be queen but when assassins eliminate her family she has no choice. Before she even has a chance to get crowned, traitors to the throne send her fleeing. As she seeks support to oust the false king, she discovers a greater peril.  A dark force is stirring that threatens not just her kingdom but the entire world.
Queen’s Griffon ~  To ensure an ancient entity remains imprisoned, Avera must locate five mysterious stones, however getting to the dead continent of Verlora is fraught with complication. Pirates and monsters aren’t the only impediments to her quest.

Consort’s Dragon ~ As mysteries of the past unravel, the danger intensifies, and not just because dragons have returned. Can Avera convince them to aid in destroying a destructive force or will she have to make the ultimate sacrifice to save the world?

Get ready for a wild ride with this action-packed, magical and epic, fantasy adventure.

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Available on: 2025-11-06
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
Action and Adventure, anthology/boxset/collection, epic fantasy, magic and sorcery, Romantasy, royalty romance
Tags:
english
If you like Swords & Tiaras (Books 1 - 3), you might be interested in:
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Siren Misfit

Consort’s Dragon

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Book Cover: Consort's Dragon
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Part of the Swords & Tiaras series:
  • Lady’s Steed
  • Queen’s Griffon
  • Consort’s Dragon
  • Swords & Tiaras (Books 1 – 3)

As mysteries unravel, danger intensifies, and dragons soar in the sky. 

When Avera is captured by the Emperor of Merisu, her quest to reclaim her throne and prevent an evil entity from escaping its magical prison fails.

Or so she thinks.

Emperor Titus claims he wants to be Avera’s ally, but can she trust him? The rumors of his depravity and tyranny appear to be false. The man she meets is courteous, handsome, and seemingly beloved by his people. Would marrying him be so bad?

Along with his offer to make her his consort, he’s been teasing her with dragon lore. He believes hatching the eggs she retrieved is their best option. Avera isn’t convinced, though. She’s seen the catastrophic damage caused by a single dragon in Verlora. Freeing four more dragons could lead to wide-scale catastrophe. At the same time, the mighty beasts might be the only hope they have to preserve their way of life—if they can convince them to help.

Time is running out, and as secrets become exposed, hard decisions must be made. Will Avera make the ultimate sacrifice to save the world?

Get ready for the stunning conclusion to Swords & Tiaras, an action-packed magical and epic fantasy adventure.

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Available on: 2025-07-10
Genres:
epic fantasy, Fantasy Romance, magic and sorcery, Romantasy, royalty romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

Years before the assassination of the Daervanian queen.

 

Titus, the mighty emperor of Merisu, the longest reigning of his line, did his best to remain awake on his throne. At his age—a body-aching seventy—being forced every few weeks to listen to the complaints of petitioners bored. As if he cared about flocks of sheep and other petty matters.

However, despite being emperor, he did not have a choice. Blame his advisors, most specifically his vizier, Phelgar, who insisted Titus make an appearance and rule on the matters, even though the result was decided by others ahead of time.

Once upon a time, Titus had dreamed of the grandeur of ruling the most prosperous continent in the world. The reality proved disappointing as bureaucracy had long since stripped the emperor of power, making him but a figurehead, his existence governed by rules and expectations—and boredom.

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As Titus struggled to appear interested in the droning vassal before his throne, he thought of what would come after. A goblet of wine fortified with herbs, hopefully a nap, and then he would attempt to impregnate his latest consort. Such a bother. If only his one and only son hadn’t died. But he had and Titus no longer had an heir despite his many marriages and countless concubines, none of whom managed a successful pregnancy. His lack of an heir had his advisors quite agitated. Very little time remained before he died of old age, and, without a child to inherit, his country would most likely splinter, something his advisors and the lords wished to avoid.

As the last petitioner took his leave—after complaining that his well went dry because his neighbor had stolen the water, to which Titus offered to send a dousing witch to seek out a new source—the tired emperor rose from his throne, grimacing at how his aged limbs creaked and protested. “I’m off to rest before doing my duty,” he muttered.

“Not yet, Your Eminence,” murmured Phelgar. “There is still one more case to be heard.”

“But it is midafternoon,” Titus whined, knowing no one would dare point out his petulant tone. The last person overheard murmuring about the emperor’s attitude lost their head. Not on his order, he should add. Phelgar took insults to Titus’ reign quite seriously.

“They paid an impressive sum for a moment of your time,” Phelgar remarked. A rude reminder that their coffers ran low. The once-prosperous Merisu had been hit by a series of unfortunate events. Droughts the last three summers had spawned wildfires which in turn decimated the already sparse crop yields. Hard to collect taxes when no one could earn any coin. It didn’t help the treasury had been paying extra for additional guards to keep a hungry populace from rioting. At least the many executions of instigators made for fewer mouths to feed.

Titus dropped back onto his throne with a sigh. “And what is the verdict I’m to propose?”

“I don’t have one,” Phelgar replied, surprising the emperor. “They only just arrived, bearing a chest of gold.”

A chest? Impressive and intriguing. Especially the part where Phelgar couldn’t tell him in advance what to reply. Titus couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually made a decision on his own. “Their generous contribution pleases me. Let us see what they have to say.”

The guards at the entrance to his throne room flung open the bronze doors, the height of at least two tall men and gleaming from the daily polishing. Through them marched a trio of women, clad head to toe in white robes that included concealing veils. An interesting attire that probably hid hideous countenances. His third consort had to wear one when he bedded her so he didn’t lose his erection.

The three petitioners stopped a pace before the last step of his dais and in unison knelt with bowed heads.

“Rise.” Titus waved a gnarled hand.

They rose as one, and the woman in the center spoke, her voice low and husky. “Oh, mighty emperor of Merisu, thank you for receiving us.”

“Your names,” Phelgar demanded, a quill and parchment ready to take notes.

“I am Klothi and these are my sisters, Kachezi and Karoki.”

Unusual names. “Why do you seek an audience? By your speech, you do not appear to be Merisuan citizens. Are you here as delegates for another country?”

“We have no allegiance to any country, your eminence, for we were chosen to serve a higher purpose.”

The claim arched his brow. Had a new religious sect sprung up? Surprising since Phelgar’s spy network usually stamped out anything that might run counter to his rule.

“There is no higher purpose than serving Merisu,” Phelgar tartly replied.

“What we do is for the betterment of everyone,” Klothi stated.

“And what exactly do you do?” Titus asked.

“We are keepers of knowledge. The sisters who watch. The ones who see what is to come and would prevent it.”

“Grandiose claims that say nothing. Speak plainly,” Phelgar barked. “The emperor’s time is valuable.”

“We are known as the Dracova Guardians and for the longest time have kept ourselves hidden from the world.”

“I’ve never heard of you. What exactly do you guard?” Phelgar showed little patience.

“That is not something that can be revealed to anyone but the emperor,” was Klothi’s cool reply.

Phelgar stiffened. “I am his highest advisor which means all information comes through me.”

“Not this secret. We will divulge it only to your emperor, should he choose to align with our cause.”

“No,” Phelgar spat. “I’ve heard enough. Leave.”

Titus held up a hand. “Let’s not be hasty.” For the first time in a while, he found himself intrigued. “I wish to hear more.” Phelgar’s eyes shot warning daggers, but Titus ignored him and leaned forward. “What do you mean by align?”

“I’m afraid we cannot divulge more until we are in private. But it is understandable that you are leery, hence why we brought a gift, in addition to our offering of gold, to show our good faith.”

A gift? That piqued his interest, but first… “Why have you been hiding?”

“Because the secrets we guard would cause great ill in the wrong hands. There was a time, long ago, when we had shrines on every continent and served our purpose openly. Now, we are all that is left as time and ill luck have eroded our numbers. But that will soon change as the new age is almost upon us.”

“A new age of what?”

“Prosperity. Rebirth. And you, Emperor Titus, have been selected to lead us to that future.”

At the claim, he cackled. “I’m afraid you’ve chosen poorly. I am an old man on the cusp of passing.” He saw no point in denying the obvious.

“We do not make mistakes,” Klothi replied bluntly. “Should you accept our gift of goodwill, age will no longer be a concern of yours.”

“Planning to kill me?” Titus asked.

“On the contrary. We wish you to live, hence the rare and precious offering we’ve brought exclusively for you.”

The woman to Klothi’s left, whom she’d called Kachezi, took a step forward and as her voluminous sleeves retreated, presented a vial. “Drink this elixir and reclaim your youth.”

Laughter erupted from Phelgar and he glanced at Titus. “Do you hear this ridiculousness? Do you think we are stupid?” he scoffed. “The emperor will not drink whatever poison you present.”

“We understand the hesitance. Would you like to see an example of what this elixir can do?” Klothi waved to the woman on her right. “Karoki, if you would be so kind.”

Karoki raised her hands and clasped her veil, tugging it from her head to reveal an old woman, her visage wrinkled like a prune left in the sun too long, her gray hair shorn almost to the scalp. Without hesitation, Karoki held out a hand, the flesh mottled with age, the veins pulsing dark lines visible through the papery skin.

The female holding the vial handed it to her companion. The cloudy eyes stared right at Titus as Karoki removed the cap and took a sip.

Quickly, Kachezi snatched the amphora, and just in time, as Karoki fell to her knees with a gasp. She didn’t remain kneeling for long. As her body began to convulse, she fell to the floor and writhed.

Phelgar’s eyes widened. “You poisoned her! I knew you planned treachery.”

“Watch,” admonished Klothi.

“I’ve heard and seen enough. Arrest this woman!” Phelgar shouted, but Titus held up a hand and, while not a strong bellow, managed to shout, “Belay that order.” Because something strange appeared to be happening to Karoki.

Under his disbelieving gaze, the one who’d drank from the vial shed decades. Her face smoothed, the wrinkles vanishing as her flesh plumped. The spots on her cheeks faded, leaving them pale and smooth with a hint of blush. Dried thin lips filled and regained their reddish color.

The change took only minutes. When done, Karoki stood and faced him, a hint of a smile curving her mouth.

Klothi held her head high as she stated, “As you can see, this isn’t a poison, but rather an elixir that brings back youth. Our gift to you with the hope you’ll join our cause.”

“Give it.” Titus held out his hands, but Phelgar moved to block him. “What sorcery is this? It is not possible to revert the ravages of time.”

“You would deny the evidence before your eyes?”

“It’s a trick. Given there are witches in my family, I am familiar with magic, and there is no elixir of youth,” Phelgar blustered.

“Dracova Guardians are more than mere witches,” Klothi stated in a sneering tone. “We are the last of those trained in the art of magic since birth, privy to secrets your puny mind could not hope to comprehend. Hence why our offer is to your emperor, and not a sniveling coward like you.”

The rebuke almost had Titus snickering, but Phelgar didn’t appreciate it.

“You insolent wench. I am His Eminence’s vizier. I will not stand here and be insulted, nor will I allow you to harm the emperor. Guards, seize them.”

“You overstep yourself, Phelgar. Ignore that order,” Titus called out, standing from his throne.

“But, Your Eminence,” Phelgar said, turning to face him. “Surely you don’t believe this charlatanry. It is most likely an illusion.”

“I am an old man on the cusp of death. Do I really have anything to lose?” Titus asked.

“Your life,” Phelgar bluntly stated.

“A life of aching bones and wheezing breath. I’ve been alive more than seventy years, longer than most.”

“If you die, the country will be in shambles.”

“Because I lack an heir. I’m aware,” was his dry reply. “Do you really think a few more days or months or even years will change that?”

“You’ve had ill luck with infertile women—”

Despite a lifetime of obedience, Titus cut him off. “It’s not them, and you know it, despite how many doctors you parade past me claiming they are barren. Or did you think I wasn’t aware of my wives’ dalliances and their pregnancies with other men? Incidents you caught before the babes could be passed off as my own? Perhaps you should have allowed one of them to be born.”

“As if I’d allow a bastard to sit on the throne,” Phelgar hissed.

“The truth is, my seed refuses to take root, and thus I either die without an heir, or I trust this elixir isn’t an illusion.”

“Once you regain your youth, you won’t need a son. You could rule forever,” Klothi stated loud enough to be heard.

Immortality. It tempted, as did the fact he wouldn’t have to keep pretending interest in the various ladies who showed up in his bed. No more being forced to marry supposedly fertile females whom he couldn’t stand to be around.

“I accept your gift.” Titus descended the dais on legs that protested as he held out a gnarled hand.

Klothi dropped the vial in his palm and Titus eyed the liquid within, a little more than half left. A sniff of the potion wrinkled his nose. “It smells foul.”

“Most cures do,” she softly noted.

True.

Before Titus could shrivel and cower obediently under Phelgar’s disapproving stare, he tilted the vial and dribbled the liquid into his mouth.

It tasted worse than it smelled. Titus almost spat it out. His throat tightened and his stomach clenched as he forced himself to swallow.

The effect proved instant. His muscles cramped, the pain gripping every inch of him. The ampoule fell to the floor and shattered, not that he noticed. He was too busy trying not to scream from the agony scouring his body.

He found himself on the floor and could hear Phelgar shouting, he just couldn’t bring himself to care, seeing as how he was dying.

He’d been wrong.

The poison would kill him.

Here ended his legacy and that of his forefathers stretching a thousand years.

To his surprise, he didn’t die. The seizures and pain eased. He took a deep breath, and it didn’t wheeze. The aches, so long a part of him, were gone. As Titus rose to his feet, staring in wonder at his smooth hands, he heard Phelgar exclaim.

“Your eminence. It worked.” The man sounded so surprised.

Titus was elated. He turned to Klothi and smiled, a charming grin with a hint of conniving as he said, “Whatever you wish from me, you have it.”

“Eminence, shouldn’t you first hear what they want from you?” Phelgar argued.

“Doesn’t matter.” After all, if these witches could keep him young forever and thought he could lead them into a new age, he’d be a fool to refuse.

And so, the three Dracova Guardians joined his court and revealed what was to come, a plan that would be years coming to fruition. Titus didn’t mind the wait. After all, he now had all the time he needed to become emperor of the world.

Chapter 1

The sea voyage from Verlora to Merisu couldn’t end soon enough for Avera. Restricted to a cage in a dark hold, she huddled into a tiny ball, her will to fight gone.

She’d failed her quest.

Gryphon was dead.

The Dracova stones had been stolen from her.

She would never reclaim her throne from that traitor, Benoit, nor could she stop the ancient entity, Zhos, from rising and laying waste to her home.

Instead of victory, she found herself a prisoner aboard the Emperor’s Folly, which sailed for Merisu. Once they arrived, Captain Koonis would hand over Avera and the Dracova stones to his precious emperor—a decrepit tyrant with plans to marry her. To those who might wonder how bad could marrying the ruler of a country be, they’d obviously either never heard or ignored the rumors. Emperor Titus Gugerknaut, age seventy-three, had been married five times. Never divorced, though, because his consorts had a tendency to die. Thrown from a horse, choked on dinner, drowned. One apparently perished in childbirth with the emperor’s heir. As for the most recent, Avera vaguely recalled mention of her flinging herself from a rampart. Probably preferable to enduring the touch of an old man who would one day kill her for not giving him the heir he so desperately wanted.

In a rare moment spent with her shunned youngest child, the previous queen of Daerva—Avera’s mother—had once confided that she didn’t like Emperor Titus. “I would rather see my daughters wed the latrine cleaner than that foul man.”

But Avera wouldn’t have a choice. Supposedly, the emperor planned to marry her, although she had her doubts after her treatment by the captain. True or not, she saw no way to escape. Perhaps she would die before her arrival. The seasickness had returned and seemed determined to finish her off.

She should be so lucky.

It was a miserable trip, days and days of no daylight and rancid food. The gruel brought to her daily held floating chunks of garbage. Literal garbage. Chewed bones. Clumps of hair. Grizzled fat in a broth that smelled slightly of piss.

Needless to say, she didn’t eat and subsisted only on the tepid water they brought every few days—when they remembered.

From princess to wretch. How far she’d fallen. Even sleep was no escape for every time she slumbered, Zhos taunted her. A faceless and shapeless figure whose voice surrounded her at every turn, taunting and threatening. While she didn’t want to admit defeat while awake, her subconscious apparently had lost hope.

When Captain Koonis appeared in front of her cage—strutting in his finery, his blue uniform lined with braided golden cord—to announce, “We’re about to dock,” she could barely muster the strength to lift her head.

At least this torture would soon come to an end. The emperor would have his precious stones, but seeing how Avera had nothing else to offer, she could only hope for a swift death.

She was marched, bedraggled and filthy, from the hold to the main deck where the bright sun after so many days of darkness had her squinting. Despite her watering eyes, the fresh air did much to revive her.

“Keep moving,” Koonis ordered as she paused and wavered on her feet, blinking. A shove to the middle of her back had her bare feet stumbling, and she almost plummeted from the gangplank into the water. It might have improved the smell of her.

She made it onto the dock where a grand entourage waited, comprised of lords and ladies dressed in bright fabrics, the latter hiding their faces behind fans. Soldiers in impressive uniforms that included helms stood arrayed just outside their group, with the largest of them flanking a young man dressed in silken finery who took one look at her and pursed his lips with disapproval. “Is this the Queen of Daerva?”

“Aye, Emperor.” Koonis dropped to a knee and bowed his head. “I’ve brought her, and the stones, as ordered.” He placed the satchel he’d stolen from Avera at the emperor’s feet.

As Avera perused the young fellow, she wondered why she’d not heard about the old emperor’s passing. Then again, it might have been recent. Only it seemed odd no one had mentioned it. Nor the fact he had an heir. The rumors about the emperor had highlighted—often with sneering amusement—how he kept ridding himself of wives due to their inability to conceive.

The young emperor’s lips tightened as he eyed Avera. “Why is she so filthy and starved-looking?”

Interesting. The emperor didn’t sound pleased.

Captain Koonis raised his head, fear in his eyes. “Your Eminence? I simply treated her like I would any other prisoner.”

“She’s not a prisoner, you fool, but my soon-to-be consort.” The words were spat and Koonis turned pale.

The emperor didn’t make a sign, yet a soldier stepped forward. Before the captain could protest, his head went flying. A fascinated Avera watched as it rolled across the dock and plopped into the water, drawing a swarm of fish. The water boiled at their feeding frenzy.

A fitting ending for a wretched man.

To Avera’s surprise, the emperor bowed low in front of her. “Apologies, Majesty, for your mistreatment. I didn’t think I had to explicitly tell the captain that, as my fiancée, you should have been treated like a precious treasure. Let me make it up to you.”

“You could make things right by releasing me to return home,” she stated, her voice raspy from her ordeal.

“Alas, that is the one thing I cannot do.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “However, I promise the situation is not as dire as you fear.”

“You’re forcing me to marry you.” She saw no point in being demure.

“Being wed to me would be to your advantage.”

“How so?”

“You are currently a queen without a throne. Branded a traitor by the one who stole it.”

Her lips pinched at the reminder. “How does being your consort fix that?”

“You need an army and I happen to have a rather large one, plus a vast fleet of ships to transport them.”

“I don’t wish to kill my people.”

“Who says they’ll die? Sometimes a proper show of force is all that’s needed. I imagine there are many displeased by the situation but lacking the courage to step forward. An army led by their true queen might prove to be a compelling factor.”

The emperor put forth an interesting argument, but she wasn’t about to agree so quickly. “I am too weary to be discussing this right now.”

“Of course you are. My apologies. Let us get you properly situated before we discuss important affairs.” He turned and raised his hand. “I have a palanquin to transport us to the palace.”

Avera eyed the gilded box on poles, the weight of it carried by eight very burly men, their chests bare and gleaming as if oiled, the muscles of their arms and legs thicker than her waist. They set the palanquin down nearby and pulled back a curtain. The displayed enclosed space had her glancing at her ragged attire.

“You might not wish to be in such close proximity to me.”

“It is my fault you arrived in such a state. The late Captain Koonis obviously didn’t clearly grasp your importance to me. Shall we?” He crooked an arm, a courtly gesture that took her aback.

This emperor was nothing as expected. Perhaps the son wasn’t a scoundrel like his father. Not that she intended to marry him. Her grief over Griffon remained a raw, ragged wound on her heart. Just as she’d come to realize her feelings for him, he’d been taken.

She tucked her hand in the crook of the emperor’s elbow and let him lead her to the litter. Upon entering, she was struck by the comfort, from the fat pillows for sitting to the lightly scented brazier that would hopefully mask most of her pungent body aroma.

The emperor sat across from her, a handsome man, she had to admit. His brown hair was thick and long enough to have a slight wave to it, his eyes a piercing gray.

As the palanquin lifted into the air, she sought something to say and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I wasn’t aware Emperor Titus had passed. I am sorry for your loss. I, too, have recently grieved the passing of a parent.”

The statement for some reason made him smile. “My father, Magnus, has been long dead. I am Titus.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry for the mistake. I must have mixed up your names.” Apparently, she should have paid better attention to her lessons on politics.

“Actually, you didn’t. My situation is rather unique. You see, while I might look rather young, in actuality, I am more than seventy years old.”

“Impossible.” The word flew out of her as she recalled what she’d been told when trekking across Verlora with Koonis’ men. They’d claimed that witches used magic to make the emperor young again. Apparently, they’d spoken the truth.

He arched a brow. “Would you call me a liar?”

Careful. Now that she stood on somewhat solid ground, it wouldn’t do to anger the one person who literally held her life in his hands. Especially since thus far he seemed somewhat reasonable.

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t understand. How do you appear so young?”

“Magic.” His white teeth flashed as he grinned. “Your confusion is understandable, as is your disbelief. I felt the same when the elixir of youth was presented to me.”

Magic. For a woman who’d grown up believing it was just something put in stories for entertainment, she’d come to realize much she knew needed updating.

“So your youth is a spell? Does it require renewing?”

“In a sense, yes. While the elixir did reverse decades, I am aging once more and will eventually have to imbibe again to remain young.”

“How incredible.”

“Life changing,” he quipped with a wink. “You’ll soon discover many wonderful things once you’ve settled in. I hear you have a curiosity about how things work.”

His spies had done their homework. “I tinker a bit,” was her modest reply. “Although, not much since the passing of my family.”

“I was chagrinned to hear of your mother’s death. She was quite formidable. She impressed me when we met. We bandied around the idea of aligning our families.”

“But obviously didn’t. Why?”

“I was married at the time.” Stated with a wry smile.

“Your wives have an unfortunate habit of dying.” She saw no point in being coy.

“They did, however, not by my hand or decree. My last vizier saw fit to act without my knowledge.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He and the lords were concerned about my lack of heirs and, given their desire for a legitimate successor, kept disposing of wives they deemed faulty.”

“So I can expect the same treatment, I suppose.”

“Phelgar has since been removed from his position. With my renewed vitality, having a child is no longer a priority.”

“Planning to rule forever?” she spoke half jestingly.

“Yes,” he replied quite seriously.

“If you have no need of an heir, why marry at all?”

“Power. Daerva is the second most impressive country after Merisu.”

Debatable. But, then again, she thought Daerva a most wonderful place. “So you would use me?”

“In a sense. But in return, you would use me, as well, to regain your birthright. It could be mutually beneficial.”

“You’ll excuse my skepticism considering the circumstances that brought me here. Kidnapped. Forced into Verlora to retrieve the Dracova stones, then kidnapped again and mistreated. And now you expect me to kindly and obediently agree to your demand.”

“The sequence of events was unfortunate. However, as predicted, you did succeed.”

“Predicted by who?”

“My new viziers, whom you’ll meet shortly.”

“They see the future?”

“Of sorts. They perceive enough to be able to guide to better outcomes.”

Since he appeared willing to speak, she decided to ask, “Why do you want the stones?”

“That is complicated.”

She wondered what he knew of them because what she’d discovered still seemed farfetched. If what Basil—her late father and a scoundrel—revealed was true, then those stones were, in fact, eggs.

Dragon eggs.

And having seen what one unleashed dragon could do, she really hoped Titus didn’t plan to try and hatch another. Not to mention, the stones were needed to keep Zhos in its prison. Until their theft, they’d acted as a shield of sorts that kept Zhos from being able to act. She still didn’t understand how they worked, only that they must have had some kind of magic that nullified Zhos’ efforts.

“They’re dangerous,” she stated.

“Only to the unknowing.” Titus offered a secretive smile. “They will be key in my plans for the future.”

“There won’t be a future if they’re not returned to Fraegus Spire to prevent Zhos’ escape,” she retorted sharply.

“Become my consort and I promise Zhos won’t be a problem.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d alluded to knowing about the entity plaguing Daerva. “You know how to defeat it?”

“I know many things, and as you learn to trust in me, I will reveal those secrets to you.”

Trust? All of her natural intuition—plus all the stories she’d heard of this man—told her she’d be better off putting her faith in a venomous snake. However, in her current situation, she’d best play along with whatever game Titus had drawn her into. If he had information, then she wanted it. If he could help her free Daerva from Benoit and save it from Zhos, it might be worthwhile to listen to what he had to say. Maybe even agree to marry him. After all, Griffon was dead, and she had no one else to turn to.

“We’ve arrived at your new home,” Titus announced, parting the curtain to give her a peek. The palanquin traversed a wide bridge of black, porous stone that led to a massive castle. A palace he called it, and she could see why, given its sprawling grandeur. Unlike her own home, it didn’t have high walls to defend it, but rather lush gardens with spraying fountains.

When their conveyance settled on the ground, Titus exited only to immediately turn around and offer her a helping hand. She emerged into sunlight and beauty. Everything around had been designed to please the eye. Gracefully carved statues stood scattered along garden paths lined with flowering bushes. Minaret towers rose high in the sky, appearing too finely crafted to remain upright. Even the staff appeared happy and well-fed, judging by their rounded cheeks and colorful clothing. They showed obeisance to their emperor, dipping into low bows, but they did so with smiles, chirping, “Afternoon, Eminence.”

“Afternoon, my good people. Do say hello to Queen Avera Voxspira. She will be guesting with us, and you are to treat her as you would me.”

“Yes, Eminence,” they replied in a chorus.

Curious gazes strayed her way and she had to wonder what they must think of the filthy and smelly woman in rags accompanying their ruler. She most certainly didn’t look like a queen.

Once more, Titus offered the crook of his arm as he led her inside, the entrance actually opening right into a massive ballroom with hanging chandeliers and gleaming floors. The pillars holding up the vaulted roof were seemingly too slender for such weight. At the far end of the room massive bronze doors were wide open, giving a peek at a dais of dark stone and the throne that sat atop it.

“Welcome to your new home,” Titus stated. “Should you have need of anything, simply say the word.”

“You’re too kind,” she murmured, her ingrained manners emerging by rote.

“Not kind enough. I must make up for the mistreatment. I don’t know what possessed the captain to treat you so horrendously.”

She didn’t point out that the emperor must have said, or not said, something to instigate the captain’s behavior.

“Prielli.” He waved to one of the women who’d dropped into a deep bow. “Her Highness, the queen of Daerva, has arrived. After an arduous journey, she is in need of some pampering. Please see to it that she is made comfortable in the consort’s tower and provided with anything she requires.”

“Yes, Your Eminence. If Her Highness would follow me.”

Before Avera could follow the maid, Titus said, “If you feel up to it, I hope you’ll join me for the evening repast.”

“Is that a command, Emperor?”

“No. A request, and I see no need for honorifics between us. Call me Titus.”

It seemed only polite to say, “Very well, if I am not indisposed then I shall see you at dinner, Titus.” She took a step from him before adding, “You may call me Avera.”

She took her leave of Titus, somewhat confused by her initial impression of him since it clashed with everything she’d ever learned. As she followed the maid up some stairs that her malnourished body protested, she didn’t have the breath to ask any questions. She could only gaze about at the splendor of his home. Clean. That was the first thing she noticed, which couldn’t be easy given the dark stone everywhere. Yet she saw no dust or cobwebs, nor scuff marks on the floor from boots. Few guards as well, which surprised her.

The maid led her to a second set of stairs set inside a tower, the number of which made Avera inwardly groan. She wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest, but she gritted her teeth and forged onward and upward. It proved worth the effort.

Her room turned out to be a suite set on two levels. The first had a receiving chamber with divans, a small library, and even an intimate dining area. Prielli pointed as she named off the amenities.

“Someone will ensure the fireplaces and braziers are lit every evening should you wish to entertain or even relax. If you require anything—food, entertainment, or to summon someone—simply pull that rope.” Prielli indicated a thick, hanging cord of gold that ended in a tassel.

A last set of stairs led to the top floor of the tower and Avera’s bedroom, massive in size, with windows all around giving her the most splendid vista. The city of Tiraus was spread out below, the buildings mostly made of mixed gray and black stone with roofs of light blue tile. The streets were neatly aligned with parallel roads that intersected to create squares, rather than curving all over like those back home.

“Is that a market?” Avera asked, noticing bright awnings running in concentric circles in a wide opening surrounded by structures.

“It’s the Megazaar. If you wish, we can visit.”

She very much did wish, just not today.

Being ensconced in luxury did much to revive Avera. The biggest surprise? When she emerged from the lavish room with the deep soaking tub that washed the grime from her skin, the Dracova stones sat in cloth-covered cradles on the dresser.

The note with them?

Please accept these as a wedding gift and a promise that together we shall stop Zhos from ruining the world.

Perhaps she could still save Daerva. The price?

Marriage to a stranger.

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Fairytale Bureau Collection (Books 1 – 3)

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Part of the Fairytale Bureau series:
  • Hood’s Caper
  • Cinder’s Trial
  • Belle’s Quest
  • Fairytale Bureau Collection (Books 1 – 3)

In a world where fairytales keep coming to life, there’s a bureau dedicated to helping the victims caught up in the Grimm Effect. But sometimes even those investigators fall prey to a happily ever after… 

Enjoy this collection of three books featuring previously released stories: 
  • Hood’s Caper ~ Blanche Hood managed to evade the Red-Cap curse as a teen when she didn’t fall for the huntsman or get eaten by the wolf. But looks like the curse is revving up for another try, and this time it’s out for blood. Her blood. Can she track down the serial killer wolf before it’s too late for love?
  • Cinder’s Trial ~ Cinder thought she’d beaten the Grimm Effect when she ditched the old man who kept chasing her at the ball. However, decades later, her fairy godmother pops back in for round two. No thanks. Cinder intends to marry for love and not because of a curse, but avoiding the marriage trap isn’t easy when she’s forced to act as liaison for a European prince. A good thing she’s got a Grimm Knight to keep her distracted.
  • Belle’s Quest ~ Belle is determined to be the one who ends the Grimm Effect but in a hairy twist, the evil magic fights back and turns her into the beast. Should she admit defeat and take up residence in a dreary castle where she can roar at trespassers, or see if she can end the curse by giving true love a try?
Dive into these lighthearted romances with faiytale twists that will keep you reading past your bedtime.
Published: 2025-02-20
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, curse romance, dark humor, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, royalty romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, twisted fairytale, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
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Sins of Leo

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Book Cover: Sins of Leo
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Part of the The Thirteenth Zodiac series:
  • The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 – 3)
  • Legend of Scorpio
  • Sins of Leo
  • Capture of Capricorn
  • Taurus’s Quest

This warrior can’t let go of the past.

Leo’s life is a living hell. He lost his wife and baby to a monster and blames himself. He’s spent years trying to overcome the guilt, but it turns out heavy drinking isn’t a solution. When the boss of the Zodiac Warriors orders him to seek help, he ends up spilling his guts in a shrink’s office. However, the attractive woman isn’t falling for his pity party—and knows he’s hiding something.

When her newest patient arrives for his session, Dr. Ruth Warmstone hopes her couch survives the massive, muscled man that flops atop it. It isn’t just his body that’s heavy but his dark thoughts. Right away, she knows he’s holding back. How can she get him to open up?

Maybe she’ll get a chance to unlock his secrets when he helps her to evade capture by an organization that wants something she inherited from her archeologist father. While on the run—that turns into a quest to discover her father’s last known whereabouts—she discovers Leo is no ordinary man. He’s a Zodiac Warrior with a mission from the stars.

Together, they must explore a jungle in search of an ancient artifact and find a way for Leo to forgive the sins of his past so love can flourish in his future.

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Published: 2025-04-24
Genres:
alien romance, magic and sorcery, Sci-Fi Romance, second chance romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

“I hate sewers,” Leo grumbled, and he had good reason. After all, he’d visited his fair share.

In his experience, sewers tended to be smelly, damp, dark cesspools, but, of course, monsters loved them. Hence why he slogged through almost knee-high muck, following a tunnel that would supposedly lead him to the creature absconding with people—and most likely killing them. The stench of rotting flesh that permeated the air certainly indicated death.

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In this particular case, what they hunted appeared to have a craving for young children, and, given said youngsters usually tended to be in the care of their mothers, they went missing too. Heinous and unacceptable, which was why the Zodiac Warriors currently converged on the creature’s lair. It took them some time to track it, the sewer system under New York City extensive and the monster sly enough to cover its tracks. However, Aquarius, who excelled in the tech field, had been working hard to triangulate its hunting grounds.

Their biggest break came from the mole people—persons who’d chosen to live underground for various reasons, most of them economic. Some of the fleeing subterranean dwellers had emerged from their sewer homes to announce the demise of friends and family. Alas, they’d not been taken seriously, despite taking their concerns to the cops. At least the officer who spoke with them filed a report, which ended up on Aquarius’ info-searching radar. It turned out they were telling the truth. An entire community of tunnel dwellers had disappeared, but no one noticed—or cared—until the creature expanded its hunting grounds and dared to start snatching non-moles. Given the public outcry, law enforcement searched for the perpetrator, but they were ill-equipped to deal with an actual monster.

“I am maybe ten seconds away from the main cavern,” Leo heard Capricorn state through his earpiece.

“Time to turn the goggles off, boys,” added Scorpio. “Tossing the flashbang and glow sticks in five seconds, starting now.”

They’d worn night vision goggles as they made their approach. However, the plan was always to remove them before the fight so as to not be blinded when they lit up the place. After all, a monster who chose to live in the dark might be at a disadvantage if exposed to light.

A push of the goggles put them resting on Leo’s head. He then gripped a revolver in his left hand and a sword in his right. Depending on what they faced, one or the other might prove useless. He still recalled the chitinous creature they’d taken out a few years back with a carapace that sent bullets ricocheting.

At the sight of the bright flash that exploded up ahead, emitting a strident sound, he charged, racing as best he could through the muck that sucked at his boots, splashing shit—literal shit—all over as he made his way into the target chamber.

A chamber of nightmare.

In the greenish glow they’d created, he could plainly see the remains and clothing of the monster’s victims strewn all over. Each step he took crunched, the brittle bones sucked dry of their marrow, which included the tiny skeletons of children and infants. Leo’s stomach tightened as he thought of his newborn daughter—thankfully safe at home.

Or so he hoped.

He’d asked—begged—his wife, Kylie, to go somewhere more secure given the threat in the city, but she’d refused. “Isn’t my big bad warrior husband going to protect me?” Said with a sneer. Things had been rocky with them for a while, and the birth of their child hadn’t helped. After this mission, he’d make a point to spend more time at home and see if they could find a way to reconnect, even as he feared the marriage was over.

“Where is it?”

Leo didn’t need his earpiece to hear Scorpio’s query. They’d entered from three different spots and swept their guns back and forth looking for their target.

“Don’t tell me it’s out hunting,” groaned Capricorn.

That would be the worst of luck because, most likely, if the monster realized they’d infiltrated its lair, it would relocate, meaning they’d have to start the hunt all over again.

The smell in the place—rotting sewage and rancid meat—made it hard to think when all Leo wanted to do was spew. Yeah, even tough warriors sometimes puked.

A sudden drop of liquid plunked from above, making Leo crane to look. He caught sight of a thing of gangly limbs, with horns and a visage even a mother couldn’t love, that hung upside down like a spider, its malevolent gaze fixed on him. He yelled, “The fucker’s on the ceiling.”

Even as Leo shouted, he took aim and fired, the silencers on his weapon only dulling the booming blasts in the confined space.

Somehow, he missed. The monster moved fast, dropping from its perch as the bullets sprayed where it had lain in wait.

It threw itself at Leo, who dropped the gun and grabbed the sword in two hands to swing. As his blade arced, he had time to see the gaping maw, with its jagged and sharp teeth, and the red pinprick in the depth of the monster’s pupils. As his sword connected with its neck, the creature exhaled, the fetid breath washing over Leo’s face.

The last thing the monster ever did.

Plop. The severed head landed in the muck, and the body collapsed.

“What the fuck is a wendigo doing in New York?” grumbled Scorpio as he slogged to Leo’s side.

“Easy eating, I imagine,” Capricorn’s comment.

“Who’s carrying it for disposal?” Leo asked, because they never left monsters behind for civilians to find.

“I’ll take the head,” Scorpio muttered with a grimace as he grabbed it by a slimy horn.

“I’m really thinking we should revisit the whole warrior who kills doesn’t have to do cleanup,” grumbled Capricorn as he reached to yank the body from the sewage.

“Not my fault I’m better at my job,” Leo boasted.

“Are we heading straight to Tower?” Scorpio asked.

“Reports seemed to indicate only one creature,” Capricorn stated as he stood with the wendigo’s body draped over his shoulder.

“And wendigos aren’t known to hunt in groups,” Leo added, recalling some of the lore he’d learned ages ago. Upon their ascension to Zodiac Warrior, they were given a book on the various threats they might have to deal with.

“Who’s checking that pile in the middle to make sure there’s nothing else hiding?” Scorpio asked, even as he began to poke at it one-handed with the tip of his blade.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll check to make sure there’s nothing else,” Leo offered.

“Sounds good. We’ll give Aquarius the all-clear,” Capricorn stated.

Next step would be notifying authorities, anonymously of course. The world didn’t know about monsters—or the Zodiac Warriors—and they preferred to keep it that way. Their job stopped once the threat was eliminated. The cops could sort the bodies and notify families. At least there would be no more victims.

As Leo crunched his way to the mound in the middle, his gaze was stopped by something bright pink draped at the very top. A baby’s footed pajama with a unicorn on the front.

His mouth went dry, and he rocked on his heels.

Capricorn noticed. “What’s up, bro?”

“No.” It couldn’t be. He’d left his wife and child only a few hours ago to prepare for this mission. The pair had been in their apartment. Safe. He panicked for nothing.

His glance next fell on a beige sherpa jacket, identical to the one Kylie had been wearing of late. Bloodstains had turned parts of it red.

It could be anyone’s. After all, Kylie had recently bought it from a chain clothing store.

Scorpio muttered, “Oh fuck,” as he plucked a chain, barely visible against the fabric, and dangled it.

Grief swarmed every inch of Leo’s body because there was no mistaking the pendant of diamonds in the shape of his constellation. He’d given it to his wife on their wedding day.

Leo collapsed to his knees, uncaring of the filth, numb to the stench and the fact he knelt on bones.

Nothing mattered.

Kylie and his baby daughter were dead, and it was all his fault.

He should have found the monster faster.

Should have forced Kylie to go to Tower, where it would have been safe.

Should have never left them alone.

And nothing anyone said, nor how much booze he drank, could ever make him forget his greatest sin.

Not protecting his family.

Chapter 1

Ruth sighed and leaned back in her chair as she rubbed her temples. She hated Thursdays, the one day a week she took appointments until eight p.m. to accommodate those who couldn’t make it to a daytime session.

Only one more person to see, and then she could relax with a book and a bowl of leftover corn chowder. She perused the information on her next patient, a new one named Leo. No last name or date of birth, which brought a frown. Not unheard of. Some people preferred complete anonymity and could achieve that if they chose to pay for their sessions by e-transferring funds or using a prepaid credit card.

The intake form displayed little information other than the reason for the visit: Difficulty in dealing with grief after the loss of his wife and child.

That would be a tough one. Often those who survived suffered not just from the anguish of losing their loved ones, but also from the guilt that they’d survived.

A light on her desk blinked, showing her patient had arrived and pressed the buzzer in the waiting room to notify her. To preserve her client’s privacy, she didn’t invest in cameras for her office, although that might change given the recent break-ins in the neighborhood.

She buzzed the door, the audible click as it unlocked her cue to sit poised and ready to greet. In walked a giant of a man, and she didn’t say that lightly.

The breadth of his shoulders almost had him turning sideways to enter. While thick all over, it appeared to be muscle, not fat, the kind built over years of exercise or strenuous work. His file didn’t mention his occupation. Slightly intimidating, but despite his bloodshot eyes, he seemed calm.

Ruth stood and kept her tone firm and professional as she said, “Evening. You must be Leo. I’m Doctor Warmstone.”

His unshaven jaw tensed as he eyed her and then the office. “You’re a woman.”

“Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he grumbled.

“If you don’t feel I’ll be the right fit for you, I can refer you to a male colleague.”

He shook his head. “Nah. It’s fine. I was told to come see you, so here I am.”

A curious choice of words. “Someone recommended me?”

“Of sorts.” He rocked on his heels as if uncomfortable. “Feel like I should warn you I’ve never talked to a head shrink before.”

She’d heard the disparaging term too many times to count. “I’m glad you found the courage to try, then.”

“Courage,” he snorted. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did someone force you to come?” The tactic didn’t always work, as those bullied into therapy could prove reluctant to give it a try. But sometimes someone struggling with mental health need tough love to direct them to therapy so they could move past whatever held them back.

“Boss says I need to get my shit together. My liver could use a break, too,” spoken with a rueful smile.

She made note of the detail suggesting he’d been using alcohol to cope. It explained the strong scent of cologne, most likely used to mask the odor that would linger as it oozed from the pores. “Let’s see what we can do, then. If you’ll take a seat…”

He eyed the club chair in front of her desk and then the leather-clad chaise. Before she could mention he could sit wherever he felt most comfortable, he flopped onto the armless couch, causing it to groan ominously.

He exhaled. “More comfy than it looks. Here’s to hoping I don’t fall asleep on you.”

“Sometimes sleep can be beneficial,” she murmured, rising with her tablet, which she used to take notes.

“Not when you have nightmares each time you close your eyes.”

She angled the club chair to face him before she sat down. “Hopefully our sessions will help with that. Let’s start with the basics. Your name is Leo, and you are how old?”

“Older than you’d think.”

A useless reply and probably an indication of how things would go: Difficult.

She pegged him to be in his late thirties, but he could be fit forties, or even fifties. “What is your occupation?”

“I worked as a cop.”

She noticed the late tense. “It sounds as if you no longer do?” Not unusual for law enforcement officials to change jobs before retirement age, given what they experienced. Dealing with the worst of society on an almost daily basis took a toll.

“I’m still working to serve and protect,” he muttered. “I just don’t have the same motivation as before, which makes me a liability to the guys I’m partnered with.”

She made a notation in her tablet about his concern over job performance. “How long have you been in law enforcement?”

“Long time.”

Vague replies, but not unusual for a first session. She didn’t need an exact date. “Have you thought about changing careers?”

“Can’t.” He uttered a short barking laugh. “This is what I am.”

“It’s never too late. If you’re feeling burned out, sometimes a change of occupation can be beneficial.”

“I like what I do.” A begrudging admission. “I just don’t have the same drive as before.”

“Your intake sheet indicated you suffered a tragedy.”

His expression went blank. “Yeah.”

“Care to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” He huffed out a breath. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

“If you’re not ready to discuss it, then we can save it for our next meeting.”

“Seems kind of dumb to avoid it since it’s the reason I’m here.” He went silent for a moment before saying. “My wife and daughter were killed.”

Killed, so not natural causes. “What happened?” Given he was in her office and not jail, she assumed he hadn’t been the one to end their lives.

Agitation tensed his body and Leo rolled from the couch to pace as the story emerged in short terse sentences. “A killer I was hunting took them.”

“They were targeted because of your investigation.” Stated, not asked.

“Yeah.” He stood still, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t even know how it found them.”

She noticed the use of “it.” Depersonalizing the one who caused his grief. “That must have been devastating.”

“That’s putting it mildly;” his dry retort. “More like soul-crushing. Especially since it’s my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known your investigation would result in your family being targeted.”

“No, but I should have done more to protect them. I tried to get Kylie to leave until the situation was handled, but she refused. Maybe if I’d not been distracted, I would have found the fucker sooner.”

“Distracted by what?”

He grimaced, and for a second, she thought he wouldn’t reply. The reason emerged in a low tone. “My wife and I weren’t in a great place when she died. Hadn’t been in a while.”

He went quiet, forcing her to prod. “When you say not in a great place, were you fighting?”

“It might have helped if we were. About a month after we got married, Kylie just kind of went cold on me. Distant. Like, I’d come home, and she’d pretend I wasn’t there. Kind of impressive, given our small apartment and the size of me.” He offered a self-deprecating smile.

“Given your comment about never having met with a psychologist, I’m going to assume you didn’t attempt couples therapy.”

“No. Seeing as how we were both unhappy, I asked her if she wanted a divorce. It was the weirdest thing, because the moment I said, it suddenly it was like a switch flipped, and for a little while, she was the Kylie I’d met. I’d come home to romantic dinners. We’d snuggle on the couch, sleep in the same bed. But then she got pregnant, and suddenly, it was like she hated me and wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Hormones can be hard on some women, which isn’t making excuses for her behavior,” Ruth hastened to add.

“I know about the whole hormone thing, which was why I did my best to ignore it. Wasn’t easy. If she wasn’t giving me the cold shoulder, she was insulting me. Acting as if she wanted me gone. When the baby was born, I thought maybe things would get better.”

No need to ask. They obviously didn’t. “How old was your daughter when she was taken from you?”

“Two weeks old,” he whispered. “Just a tiny thing. I could hold her in my palm.” He held out the hand in question and stared at it blankly.

“You loved your daughter.”

“More than anything, and I let her down.”

“There is no predicting the mind of a killer. You had no way of knowing they would come after your family.”

“Logically, I know that, but in here…” He thumped his chest. “A part of me insists I should have done more. I should have ignored Kylie’s refusal to leave and just packed them up and secured them in Tower.”

She frowned. “How would bringing them to an apartment tower have helped if this person was targeting you?”

His lips flattened. “Better security. It would have never found them.”

“It is common after experiencing a tragedy to indulge in would have, could have, should have,” she replied. “In hindsight, there are many actions taken over the course of our lives that we would change, but the sad reality is, the past is the past. When something traumatic occurs, dwelling on it won’t change the outcome.”

“No shit, but how am I supposed to stop?” His harsh rebuttal. “It’s with me every single second of every fucking day.”

“Obviously work hasn’t provided a distraction.”

“Nope.”

“I assume you’ve not tried dating, either.”

He uttered a harsh chuckle. “Who wants to be with a miserable fuck? And before you think I am hung up on Kylie, I’m not. Like I said before, we were on the verge of divorce. Probably would have split and shared custody if not for what happened. My problem now is, I’m just not interested. Not in dating, or even living.”

Before she could ask if he’d been having suicidal thoughts, she heard a thump from overhead. She glanced at the ceiling with a frown.

“Noisy neighbors?” he stated, having noticed her distraction.

“Not likely, since I own the floor above,” she murmured as another thud occurred.

“Sounds like a cat or dog jumped off something.”

“I don’t have pets.” She rose from her seat. “Would you excuse me for a moment while I go see?”

His lips pursed. “Shouldn’t you be calling the cops if you have an intruder?”

“I wouldn’t want to waste their time if it turns out to be nothing. Could be I left something too close to an edge and it fell.” She didn’t believe that for one moment. Ruth hated clutter, and her home reflected it. She owned no knick-knacks, ergo nothing that would have fallen.

“I’ll come with you,” he offered, rising, his height and width dwarfing her. While not a petite woman at five seven and very curvy, beside him she felt practically dainty—and a bit daunted.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Then it will only take a minute and we can go back to me feeling like a piece of shit while you try to convince me I’m not the asshole.”

Internally, she debated the wisdom of taking a patient up to her private residence. On the one hand, she didn’t know him and, as a woman, she knew better than to trust a stranger, especially one that could easily overpower her. On the other, he had the bulk and professional experience that made him more than capable of handling an intruder in her home.

Another thump decided it for her. “If you don’t mind, then yes, it would be reassuring to have someone with me.”

“Lead the way.”

Ruth exited her office and punched in a code on the keypad for the door that led from her waiting room to the vestibule of her home, rather than go outside and through her main entrance.

The entryway showed her front door still deadbolted. The stairs leading upward ended in a tight landing where she felt slightly intimidated by the large man at her back. A quick punch of her code gave them entry to her residence, and she wondered if the intruder heard the beeping as it unlocked.

The moment she entered, Leo brushed past, murmuring, “Stay here while I look around.”

He could move quite stealthily for a man his size, his steps making not even the slightest whisper as he trod from her hall into the living room where the noise originated.

Waiting grated, especially since she could hear nothing. After a minute, she dared to peek her head around the corner and couldn’t restrain a gasp. Her living room had been ransacked, the cabinet doors in her entertainment center wide open, movies and albums dumped on the floor. Her lamps had been knocked from the side table. The television lay shattered on the floor.

Still hearing and seeing nothing, she moved past her living area to the dining room, which appeared untouched. Same for the kitchen.

No intruder, but also no Leo.

He must have gone to check upstairs. She trotted up the steps and immediately saw the open window. A window that led to the fire escape, which explained how the intruder got in. Before she could call out for Leo, a bright flash from outside had her blinking. What was that?

She ran to see, but there was nothing there. Not on the fire escape or in any of her rooms. Whoever had entered her home had disappeared, as had her patient.

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The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)

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Book Cover: The Grae Sisters (Books 1 - 3)
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Part of the The Grae Sisters series:
  • The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)
  • Warden and the Assassin
  • Professor and the Seer
  • Gentleman and the Witch
An urban fantasy in three parts  featuring very unique triplets.
The Grae Sisters is a three book collection of the following previously release titles.
• Warden and the Assassin ~ I’m the sister you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. Probably why a warden named Bane hires me to protect him from an upcoming arcane event. The odds are stacked against me, but I’m determined to win this fight and Bane’s love.
• Professor and the Seer ~ I’ve been cursed with seeing the future including one where the professor I’ve fallen in love with dies at my feet. There has to be a way to change what’s to come, but what if my choices bring about the apocalypse?
• Gentleman and the Witch ~ The ex-god who demands my aid is no gentleman, but then again, this witch is no lady. Together we will hunt beyond the Earthly dimension in search of our common enemy.  An enemy who miscalculated. Never threaten this witch because I will do anything, even end the world, to avenge those I love.
A blend of urban fantasy and romance that will keep you reading well past your bedtime.
Published: 2024-11-21
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, dark humor, god romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, psychic romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, Urban Fantasy, Witch Romance, wizard romance
Tags:
english
If you like The Grae Sisters (Books 1 - 3), you might be interested in:
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Earth’s Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)

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Book Cover: Earth's Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)
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Part of the Earth's Magic series:
  • Earth’s Magic : Collection One (Books 1-3)
  • Earth’s Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)
  • Earth’s Daughter
  • Earth’s Lair
  • Earth’s Elf
  • Earth’s Paladin
  • Earth’s Secret
  • Earth’s Triangle

A dryad on a mission, a witch with a secret, and two hounds ready to howl for love, So much to love in this paranormal romance bundle.

The Earth’s Magic Collection Two contains previously released titles:

• Earth’s Paladin ~ The world might not be ready for Mother Earth’s slightly murderous champion. Too bad, because she’s about to fertilize gardens the old-fashioned way; with the blood of her enemies. Will love temper her need for vengeance?
• Earth’s Secret ~ This Cryptid Authority agent—and witch—has been tasked with investigating a string of arsons. To her surprise, she uncovers a link to her past and now must scramble to survive with the help of her famous—and handsome—partner.
• Earth’s Triangle  ~ These hounds have orders from their goddess to protect a human. Not the most exciting job until they meet her face to face. Adeline’s charm gets their hearts and back paws thumping, but there is a problem: Why are zombies attracted to her?

Lighthearted, paranormal fun in a world where anything can happen, and love always prevails.
Published: 2024-10-31
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, curse romance, dark humor, dryad romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Menage/Polyamory, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, second chance romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, werewolf romance, Witch Romance
Tags:
english
If you like Earth's Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6), you might be interested in:
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Scythe & Souls Collection (Books One to Three)

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Book Cover: Scythe & Souls Collection (Books One to Three)
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Part of the Scythe & Souls series:
  • Reaping Demons
  • Reaper Witch
  • Soul Reaper
  • Scythe & Souls Collection (Books One to Three)

Humanity needs a hero and fate chose me. The world is so fucked.

Some people’s midlife crisis involves chopping off their hair or buying a convertible. Not me. I get to see demons, and even more traumatizing, I’m supposed to get rid of them.

A secret society of reapers and witches who’ve been keeping our planet demon free for generations has taken me under their wing. It’s nice to feel like I’m a part of something important, but will they have the time - and patience - to teach me how to wield my power before the biggest and baddest demon escapes his prison?

Join me for a wild and dangerous ride as I go from ordinary store clerk to supposed savior of the world. I’m going to learn to fight. How to wield magic. Fall in love.  And uncover secrets that almost destroy what little sanity I have left.

I never asked to be a heroine, but fate doesn’t care. When it comes time for the big boss battle it’s going to be up to me to vanquish the greatest evil in existence. I hate to say it, but Earth might be fucked.

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Published: 2024-12-05
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, dark humor, magic and sorcery, Menage/Polyamory, older heroine, paranormal women's fiction, reaper romance
Tags:
english
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Queen’s Griffon

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Book Cover: Queen's Griffon
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Part of the Swords & Tiaras series:
  • Lady’s Steed
  • Queen’s Griffon
  • Consort’s Dragon
  • Swords & Tiaras (Books 1 – 3)

To save her kingdom, an exiled queen must locate five mysterious stones.

Queen Avera Voxspira has been kidnapped by pirates, putting her quest to counter an evil entity in peril. If only Captain Griffon would listen. However, he refuses to help and instead brings her to Saarpira, the isle of pirates, while he waits to see who will pay the biggest ransom.

Avera does everything in her power to escape, only to find herself a prisoner of someone even worse. The only bright spot is her new captor wants her to complete her dangerous mission which entails visiting the dead continent of Verlora. The country, known for its science and innovation, suffered a catastrophe decades ago and remains perilous to­­­ those who dare brave its shores. However, Avera has no choice. She must navigate the danger and find the stolen stones that act as seals to keep the powerful Zhos trapped.

One by one, her captors fall as they weave their way through the destroyed city of Sitnalta. But surviving that journey is only the beginning of her troubles. Unexpected revelations have her questioning everything she’s been told—and what she must do.

As Avera untangles the mysterious threads of the past, she must make a choice, one that might have dire consequences for the future.

It will take all her wits to survive because she doubts the charming—and insufferable—pirate captain will find her in time.

 

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Published: 2025-04-03
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
epic fantasy, Fantasy Romance, magic and sorcery, Romantasy, royalty romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

When Verlora fell…

 

The day began overcast with intensely dark clouds. Odd because the air didn’t hint of rain, nor had their weather forecasters anticipated a storm, but the ominous press of the sky seemed determined to defy their usual accurate predictions.

Griff woke as he usually did, grumpy at the fact he had to leave his comfortable bed. Alas, his teachers expected him to be present for his lessons—as did his father. He knew better than to skip. His rear end still recalled the sting of the one time he chose to miss a boring day in the classroom.

Rather than eat alone at home, he had his breakfast in the communal dining hall. The young boy paid little mind to the whispering around him and the strained—even frightened—expressions on many faces. Adults could be strange about so many things.

His father was absent as were many others that morn. Of late they’d been working longer hours than usual.

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After breaking his fast, Griff hurried to school, his nose wrinkling at the putrid smell perfuming the air. Most likely an experiment gone wrong. It happened, and while the labs did their best to contain the results, sometimes things escaped.

As he entered the classroom, he noticed only half the students were present. He slid into a seat beside Jorge and, after a glance around, asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Dunno. But I saw a bunch of people heading for the pier on my way in,” Jorge replied.

“Are we expecting a ship or someone important?” The usual reason why people hurried to the docks, though Griff had heard of no visiting dignitary that would justify an exodus, and quite frankly, the only cargo that ever excited him involved the mighty horses that came from across the world. One day he’d own a Volaqu and fly across the beach like the wind.

“Haven’t heard of anything arriving, but my mum was muttering about bad omens this morning.” Jorge rolled his eyes. “Dad told her to stop being so superstitious.”

Their teacher, Lucin, entered. The slender man would give them their lessons on history, geography, and world politics. Boring! It would be followed by an hour of calisthenics and weapons training—Griff’s favorite part of the day—then their midday meal, after which it would be the time for the hair-pulling math, literature, and to end their day, science.

More than once, Griff complained to his father about the last because, unlike some of his peers, Griff had no interest in how things worked whether they be living or mechanical. His father usually offered him a stern look and said, “Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t understand it.”

And so, Griff suffered.

“It would seem we’re missing a few classmates,” Lucin, stated. He might have said more, only the floor trembled slightly.

No one paid it much mind. After all, the Research Facility for the Advancement of Science and Technology often did things that resulted in explosions—which Griff thought more interesting than learning the difference between gear and pulley systems.

“Seems like our scientists are at it early today,” Lucin said with a chuckle. As their teacher opened his mouth again, a stronger vibration shook the classroom, rattling desks and chairs, even knocking a few drawings off the wall.

“Everyone, remain calm,” Lucin shouted as the students began to murmur and squirm in their seats. They might have listened if the shaking had not continued.

One of the boys near the front, his expression pale and worried, rose. “I think I’m going to go find my mother.”

No one made fun of Pietro as he exited, mostly because several others followed suit. Such a long-lasting tremor was unheard of.

Lucin blew out a loud sigh. “It would seem we won’t get much done today. Class dismissed.”

Griff whooped alongside Jorge as they raced from their class into a hall that shook and made navigating difficult for some. While they found it amusing trying to walk, staggering like young drunks, the adults they passed appeared quite worried. Could have had to do with the cracks that began appearing in the concrete walls.

“Let’s get outside,” Griff suggested as he noticed a rather large crevice that appeared in the ceiling.

“Last one there has to kiss a girl,” Jorge yelled, running off.

Griff, however, didn’t immediately follow, taking a moment to aid a young woman who stumbled and dropped a folder of papers. It took but a moment to help her gather them, long enough for Jorge to have run outside. Griff soon followed, he and other students spilling into the large courtyard abutting the school, a massive edifice that held dozens of classrooms, one for each age group of learners from toddler to young adult.

The shaking continued and screams could be heard, but more worrisome was the clang of the fire bells. Griff couldn’t help but feel perturbed, a reaction not apparently shared by his friend.

Jorge grinned from the center of the yard and taunted, “Who you gonna kiss, loser?”

Before Griff could reply, the ground heaved and cracked. A crevice split open under Jorge’s feet and his friend plummeted into the hole.

A wide-eyed Griff froze in shock, but only for a second.

“Jorge!” he yelled as he ran for the edge of the wide chasm.

The ground continued to shake, the trembling growing stronger, the violent force of it sending him to his knees. Despite the bruising, and his tummy clenching fear, Griff crawled to the edge of the hole in the pavement and peered down into a bottomless abyss. No sign of Jorge.

“Griff!” The yell had him lifting his head to see Father standing on the far side of the school’s courtyard, looking frantic.

“I’m here.” Griff stood, but it took some careful balancing to navigate the heaving ground while skirting the hole before he could reach his father.

Father grabbed him close in a hug. “Thank the gears in the mighty clock tower you’re safe.”

“What’s happening?” Griff asked.

“Something went wrong in the lab.”

“Did something explode?”

“Of sorts,” his father muttered, leading him away from the school.

“Where’s Uncle Basil?” Not his real uncle, but his father’s best friend. Basil was the lead scientist for one of the labs, something to do with experimental development, whatever that meant.

“Don’t worry about your uncle. You have to leave.”

“What?” His father’s statement made no sense.

“We’re evacuating Sitnalta.”

“But why?” Griff asked as his father, who had a firm grip on his forearm as he began walking in the direction of the pier.

“As a precaution. Something has gone awry and until we can fix the unfortunate result, we feel it best to remove as many people as we can to avoid casualties.”

Lots of big words, but Griff only understood one thing.

“You’re making me leave?” Griff huffed, trying not to pout. A boy his age shouldn’t whine.

“Only until we get the situation under control. Think of it as an adventure at sea.”

“I’d rather stay with you.” Not entirely true. Griff enjoyed sailing. The sea breeze on his face. The undulation of the boat as it tunneled through waves. The power and beauty of the ocean.

“I’d prefer to know you’re safe. I have enough to worry about without adding you to that list,” his father snapped. A rarity that underscored the severity of the situation.

Griff kept his mouth shut as he followed his father to the pier, trying to forget seeing Jorge fall, ignoring the screams of people as buildings cracked and, in some cases, collapsed. The rotten stench in the air intensified, mixed with the increasing aroma of smoke. Something burned.

Their flight to the docks didn’t prove unimpeded. Several city dwellers tried to stop Griff’s father, shouting at him.

“Are we going to die?”

“What are you doing?”

“Fix this!”

Father didn’t take his usual time answering their questions. Even more shocking, at Father’s signal, soldiers formed a bubble around them, a wedge that drove through those standing in their path.

The docks were pure chaos, the likes of which Griff had never seen. People, their arms full of belongings and children, pushed and shoved, clamoring to be allowed to board the tethered ships. Already some ships had set sail, their decks crowded with passengers. Others attempted to cast off only to have people grab the mooring ropes, screaming to be allowed on board.

The Kalypsi, Father’s personal ship, remained at the dock. Griff craned to look, and he could see a few familiar faces peering over its rail, including Kreed, who’d not been to class this morning. Unlike the other moored vessels with streams of people boarding, soldiers stood at the bottom of the Kalypsi’s gangplank, weapons in hand, preventing anyone from gaining access. A restriction that didn’t apply to Griff.

At the sight of Griff’s father, the soldiers pushed those crowding the dock, creating a hole for them to pass. A passage meant only for Griff. Father didn’t join him on the pathway to the boat.

“Please come,” Griff asked, his voice small and pitiful. A good thing none of his peers heard or he’d have been mocked.

Father shook his head. “You know I must remain and see how we can fix this unfortunate incident.”

Griff couldn’t help a tremble of his lower lip. “But—”

“No crying.” A stern admonishment by his father. “You must be strong. Everything will be fine. Here.” His father unbuckled his sheath with the sword Griff admired. “Keep this safe for me.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Soon.”

A lie, as it turned out.

Griff stood at the rail, watching his father stride back into the shaking city, then watching as the crew sailed the Kalypsi into the crowded bay, waiting for their chance to slip through the narrow inlet.

Saw as the mountain that shadowed Sitnalta appeared to explode, spewing smoke and lava, bright red gobs that landed like bombs on the buildings—and even a few boats.

A horrified Griff witnessed a large schooner, its decks teeming with people, catch fire and begin to list. The nightmare only increased as streams of molten rock started to run down the mountainside.

The volcano, long dormant, had woken.

Soon, he could see nothing as smoke, stinking and thick with ash, rolled over the city and into the bay. As it reached them, people began to cough, including Griff.

“Cover your faces! Don’t breathe it in,” screamed the first mate as he tugged his shirt over his mouth and nose.

Griff copied him, the fabric somewhat filtering the poisoned air. The world took on an eerie cast, with visibility restricted to the area around him, but the noise…

The groan of heaving stone and concrete, the wails and screams, the hum of the engine propelling them since there lacked a wind for the sails.

The Kalypsi emerged from the bay and kept going. The further they travelled, the more the smog lessened. The more Griff could see.

See his home enveloped in darkness.

His last sight of it.

His last memory.

The start of a hard, new life as a refugee with nowhere to go.

Verlora died that day, as did his father.

Chapter 1 – Avera

Present day.

 

Avera was dying.

Just ask her poor heaving guts and spinning head. Her entire world had become topsy-turvy. She could only lie prone and hope she passed quickly to end the misery.

As if to compound her agony, a rather large man kept appearing in her slitted-eye view, pushing into her hands tankards of water, cruelly offering bowls of broth and bread. None of which remained in her stomach for long.

The misery wouldn’t end.

And then suddenly, Avera woke and realized she could open her eyes and that her stomach had decided it would no longer clench and spew. She might just live.

Or not. As Avera recovered, she noticed she’d woken in a strange bed that gently rocked, narrow of width and covered in a coarse woolen blanket. She had no recollection of how she’d gotten there.

Despite the weakness in her limbs, Avera pushed herself into a sitting position and almost smacked her head on the bunk above.

Where am I?

Last she recalled, she’d been at the far end of the pier in Seaserpent Bay, scouting out an old chapel used by sailors. She’d run into the captain of a recently docked vessel. A captain who’d refused to give her passage but then done something to her. She recalled a foul-smelling rag being placed over her face, closing her eyes, and then the misery of puking everything she’d ever eaten—plus a few things she didn’t recall ever putting in her mouth.

A glance around revealed little, but enough. She was in a cabin, a small one with two bunks and a trunk under a porthole. She still wore her clothing and had her locket but lacked her sword.

A few things occurred to her in that moment.

She had been kidnapped.

By pirates.

Which meant she was currently sailing on a boat.

She rose to her feet, wavering as dizziness beset her. She had to wonder why the grumpy captain had abducted her.

Time to find out.

Avera took a quick peek out the window to confirm they were indeed at sea before she made her way to the door. She tugged the handle, but the door didn’t yield. She’d been locked in.

Unacceptable. She pounded with a fist and hollered, “Let me out, you scurvy pirate! How dare you kidnap me!”

It took a moment before the captain replied from the other side of the locked portal. “Now, now, little queen. I’d have thought you’d be happy. After all, you practically begged me for passage on my ship.”

“As a passenger, not a prisoner,” she yelled.

“Does the how matter?”

It did because in one scenario she wasn’t a prisoner locked in a room. Alone, she should add. “Where are Gustav and Josslyn?” Her Grand Rook and his sister, the duchess, escaped the capital with Avera and had been her loyal companions since.

“Back in Seaserpent Bay, I imagine.”

“You left them behind?” she exclaimed.

“I didn’t need the extra mouths to feed. Although I would have made an exception for your steed. Alas, I had to choose between you and the horse. Congratulations, you won.”

“Why did you take me?”

“Because I like interesting things.”

“I’m a person, not a thing,” she growled, almost losing her balance as the ship tilted. Her stomach lurched, apparently not yet fully recovered.

“Very well. You’re an interesting woman. One who might prove useful.”

“Useful for what?” Her heart stopped before she exclaimed, “You better not be ransoming me to Benoit.” Benoit being the man who’d stolen her throne by orchestrating her family’s murder and then framing Avera for the crime.

“I don’t sell people.” Was his sharp rebuke.

“You just abduct them.”

“I only did what you wanted while avoiding the unnecessary arguing. And before you ask why we would have sparred, you would have wanted to bring your friends and your horses. Demanded a cabin fit for your station and a host of other annoying things. By taking you, I’ve established you’re here by my grace. As such, you will be nice if you wish any amenities on this voyage.”

“Be nice?” she huffed. “I will eviscerate you.” And she’d take pleasure in wiping the arrogance from the pirate captain’s face.

“No thanks. I’d rather keep my guts in my body.”

The ship rolled and she teetered into the bunk. Her throat tightened as bile rose. “You are insufferable.”

“Not according to my crew.”

“You—you—” She might have said more but the nausea that took her didn’t leave her breath for speaking, just vomiting. So much vomiting.

And moaning.

And lying in the bunk as she resumed dying.

Food was brought and left along with jugs of water. Not that she had the appetite to eat. She did try to drink, only to heave it back up almost immediately. Blame the storm that wouldn’t stop swaying the vessel. She’d never known a person could be so ill.

Days passed before the seasickness eased. Hopefully for good this time.

It took her a moment before she could sit up. The dizziness closed her eyes.

Weakness infused every inch of her battered body. Her poor chest hurt. Her throat ached, the flesh of it raw. Before, when she’d been landbound, she thought sailing sounded marvelous.

Turned out it was more like torture.

She drank a glass of water and waited to see if it would stay down. When it did she followed it with a hunk of bread which had been left on a plate on the floor. A bit dry, but she washed it down with more water and felt a bit stronger.

It took a few deep breaths before she could stand. A glance through the porthole showed water as far as she could see. So still at sea, but at least the ship had stopped rocking violently.

Her first step almost dumped her back on the bunk as her weak limbs initially refused to cooperate. She gritted her jaw. She would not return to that bed, not until she got some answers.

When she reached the door, she expected it to still be locked. It opened, and in her surprise, she almost fell. She held on to the door for a moment, breathing. Bit by bit her strength returned, and the dizziness subsided.

Still, Avera remained weak, and it showed in her slow steps as she exited her cabin into a narrow hall. She headed for the daylight she could see and held in a groan at the sight of the three steps she’d have to climb.

Just three. It might as well have been a hundred. She panted heavily by the time she managed to totter onto the sunny deck. The fresh air that hit her skin and filled her lungs did much to revive. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply, each breath filling her with strength. When she felt less disoriented, she blinked at the bright sunlight magnified by the water all around. Not a speck of land in any direction, meaning she wouldn’t be escaping the ship anytime soon.

She took stock of her surroundings. The deck of wooden planking extended the length of the ship. Tall masts, hung with sails, jutted into the blue sky. Atop one was what she’d heard termed a bird’s nest, where apparently sailors kept watch for trouble.

A waist-high rail ran the circumference of the ship. Metal rings were embedded every few yards. She noticed more of those rings on the jutting structure in the center of the deck that held the steps going belowdecks. It rose well above her head and a squint showed a window, the glare of sun on it making it impossible to see inside. Had to be the bridge, which she’d also heard called the helm.

Sailors roamed the deck, busy with tasks, but not so busy they couldn’t give her curious glances. None spoke to her.

Avera pivoted to see if she could spot the captain, but no one of his large size and annoying nature appeared. Her gaze returned to the window. Did the captain stand behind it, watching?

Upon seeing a stocky woman slopping a bucket of dirty water over the side, Avera approached and ventured a soft, “Excuse me, can you tell me where we’re going?”

“To Saarpira.”

The isle of pirates long known for its lawlessness. The destination wasn’t exactly surprising, given who’d abducted her. “How long until we get there?”

“A week or more, at least. The storm blew us off track.” The woman wandered off with her empty bucket and Avera leaned against the railing.

Despite how she’d gotten aboard, it occurred to her that rather than be mad, she should be pleased. If she ended up in Saarpira, then she still had a chance of making her way to Verlora and completing the quest she’d been given.

If she could escape her captor.

As she inhaled more of reviving salty air, her gaze took in the sails, unfurled canvas that stretched taut as the wind filled them. They were emblazoned with a large emblem. One she recognized, but to be sure, she called out to a grizzled seaman coiling rope. “What symbol is that?” She pointed to the sail.

“That there is a griffon, just like our captain.”

Her heart stuttered. “Wait, are you saying the captain is called Griffon?”

“Aye, milady. Seems fitting given they’re both mighty beasts.”

The sailor must have thought Avera odd for she began laughing. Laughing and feeling better than she had in days. Perhaps not everything was lost. After all, she’d found the legendary beast that Opal, the guardian of Fraegus Spire, had indicated would be crucial for her quest. Apparently, if she wanted to save her country from Zhos—a powerful, murderous entity attempting to break free from his enchanted prison—she had to find the Griffon. It might have helped if Avera had known she was looking for a man, and not an animal.

Even more helpful if Opal would have mentioned just how annoying he’d be.

Speaking of the irritating man, he suddenly appeared, walking back from the bow, his long-legged strut and wide shoulders making her gaze linger inappropriately. Of all the men to admire… It only increased her ire.

“You!” she huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

“I see you’ve finally decided to stop lying abed,” he replied with a smirk.

“Don’t mock me,” she snapped.

“Hardly mocking. More like amazed. I’ve never seen or heard of someone puking so much before, and that says a lot, seeing as how I’ve drunk copiously with sailors of all stripes.” He passed her and headed up the steps towards the bridge.

Avera trotted after him. “What are you planning to do with me?” she asked as she shadowed the captain. The so-called Griffon chose to speak to the sailor handling the helm instead of replying.

The captain remained as handsome as ever, a tall and rather wide man with dark hair and a swarthy complexion—features the Verlorian people were known for. He moved to a map on the wall where another of his crew listened as he pointed and traced a route with his finger. The commanding display only increased his attractiveness, much to Avera’s annoyance.

She sidled close enough to see where he indicated. “Is it true you’re taking me to Saarpira?”

“Yup.”

“Despite knowing I want to go to Verlora.” The destination given to her by Opal who’d tasked Avera with retrieving the five stolen stones needed to keep Zhos in prison. An impossible quest to start with, and now this captain seemed determined to make it harder.

“I ain’t going there. Not today. Not ever.” Understandable, considering the continent was known to be impassable. It was said that those who went to investigate never returned.

But Avera didn’t have a choice. She either found a way to Verlora, or an ancient foe would escape its prison and destroy the world. Not that Griffon believed it when she told him.

“If you won’t take me, then I’ll find someone in Saarpira who will,” she tartly replied.

“Not likely, so don’t waste your time trying.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Avera huffed.

“Pirates are about profit and there isn’t any in Verlora. Nothing but death awaits there, so yes, I can state with assurance that you won’t find anyone who will agree to take you.”

The finality in his tone deflated. So much for her previous optimism. “In that case, I demand you return me to Seaserpent Bay at once.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be arrested as a traitor?”

A reminder that her throne had been stolen from her by Benoit, her late mother’s husband. A man who’d not only plotted and had her entire family killed, but also machinated to the point where he made Avera an outcast in her own country. The past weeks had been hard. Between the assassination of her mother, the former queen, to her brief stint as monarch, to discovering an ancient evil stirring, and now the kidnapping, Avera couldn’t seem to catch a break.

“In that case, there is no other choice. You must transport me to Verlora.”

He snorted and finally cast her a glance. “Never.”

“But you must. I have to go there,” she insisted.

“How many times do you have to be told Verlora is a death sentence for all who visit?”

“When was the last time someone went?” she asked as she followed him from the bridge back to the main deck.

“A while.”

“Then perhaps things have changed.”

He whirled so abruptly she slammed into his chest. His very wide and solid chest. He didn’t try and catch her as she bounced off it and landed on her rump.

She glared up at him. “I hate you.”

He arched a brow. “I don’t care.”

“Why won’t you tell me why you’ve really abducted me?” While he’d given her a reason before she found it less than satisfactory.

“Who says I need to have a reason? But since you won’t stop nattering, as far as I’m concerned you are a commodity. The question being, who will pay the most to acquire the last of the Voxspira line? I hear the Emperor of Merisu is looking for a new consort. Marrying Daerva’s disgraced queen might appeal to him, especially since he’s been looking to expand his territory.”

“You mean conquer Daerva,” Avera huffed as she rose to her feet.

“I thought you wanted Benoit removed from the throne?”

“Not by having a foreign country invade,” she muttered. Never mind the fact she’d toyed with the idea of hiring mercenaries to help her oust the pretender.

“What happens won’t be up to you, little queen. As of now, you are my property and I will decide what happens to you. Although, keep annoying me and I might simply decide to feed you to a kraken.”

“Krakens aren’t real,” was her surly reply.

“Said by someone who’s obviously never sailed the Eastern Seas.”

“Wait, you’re saying they exist? You’ve seen them?” her curious nature couldn’t help but ask. After all, in the past few weeks she’d seen many a thing she’d once thought impossible.

“Aye, and I don’t recommend it. Even the babies are deadly.”

“You survived,” she pointed out.

“Barely.” He walked away, and she didn’t think twice to follow.

“What would it take to convince you to take me to Verlora?”

“Nothing will ever make me return,” came his flat reply.

“When we spoke before, at the chapel”—before he’d kidnapped her and established himself as the bane of her quest—“you asked if the stones I’m after could have caused the problems in Verlora. Don’t you want to find out if that’s the case?”

“No.”

“What if it fixes things, though? Makes Verlora safe again,” she asked as he descended the steps and went to the last door at the end of the hall. She caught the panel of wood before he could slam it in her face. “You can’t ignore me.”

“I will when you speak nonsense,” he snapped, whirling on her. “How exactly do you think you could fix Verlora when no one else, even some incredibly gifted scientists, couldn’t?”

“Opal said—”

“I don’t know or care who Opal is or what she’s managed to convince you of. Verlora is lost and nothing can change that.”

“If you believe that then what’s the harm in dumping me there?”

“I won’t risk my crew getting close and that’s final.”

With that, he slammed the door in her face.

Avera pursed her lips.

That didn’t go well. However, he wasn’t the only one who could be persistent.

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Lady’s Steed

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Book Cover: Lady's Steed
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Part of the Swords & Tiaras series:
  • Lady’s Steed
  • Queen’s Griffon
  • Consort’s Dragon
  • Swords & Tiaras (Books 1 – 3)

She never wanted to be queen.

Avera long ago came to terms with being the forgotten royal. As fourth in line, she was never expected to inherit the throne. All that changes when her entire family is assassinated and she barely escapes with her life.

Stepping into the role of queen takes her into a world she never could have imagined. One of plotting and intrigue. Hidden passageways. Magical and murderous statues. And traitors determined to steal her throne.

When the choice becomes flee or die, she embarks on a pilgrimage to an ancient place, one that holds a terrifying secret and sets her on an impossible and deadly quest.
Avera isn’t a champion or a fighter, however she’s also not a coward. Someone has to act. There is a dark force stirring, one that threatens not just her kingdom but the entire world.

From forgotten princess, to ousted queen and now the future’s only hope. Can Avera survive what’s to come?

An exciting, epic fantasy that will take you on a quest full of magic, monsters and mystery.

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Published: 2025-01-02
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
epic fantasy, Fantasy Romance, magic and sorcery, Romantasy, royalty romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Queen Calixte Voxspira stared at the pair of portraits hidden within the locket she cradled in her palm. It had been almost thirty years since her affair with Basil. They’d spent several glorious months together, using the secret passages in her palace to keep their clandestine encounters secret, pretending in public that they weren’t lovers.

The anger—and also anguish—she’d experienced after his betrayal had diminished over time, leaving her nostalgic. She often wondered what happened to Basil after he abandoned her without apology to return to his country. Had he felt any remorse? Did he realize he’d left her with a greater treasure than the rocks he’d been so eager to steal?

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Poor Avera, the result of that short coupling. A child who’d suffered the name bastard since Calixte had been unmarried at the time of her birth. Calixte’s fourth and youngest offspring, and also the brightest of the royal children—most likely because of her sly father. Or was Avera’s keen mind the result of having been left so often to her own devices?

A young woman now, full grown, and yet Calixte barely knew Avera. Not by choice. They might live in the same palace, however, politics—among other things—made a close relationship with Avera impossible. The guilt Calixte felt over the neglect gnawed at her daily, but she had no choice. The foretelling so long ago had warned her to remain remote lest Avera’s life end before it began.

A sigh escaped her. Sometimes the weight of her tiara overwhelmed. How she would have loved to flee with Basil. He’d asked her at the beginning of their tryst, but she couldn’t leave her people. Couldn’t leave the kingdom of Daerva to the not-so-tender mercy of her oldest heir, Aldrich. She never understood where her son’s darkness came from. His father, a lord of even temperament, never had that streak of cruelty Aldrich displayed.

Thankfully, he’d never be King. The same vision that warned Calixte to ignore her youngest daughter had also touched upon the end of her reign: Upon thy passing, the crown shall be inherited by one worthier than the First Prince.

Would it be her second daughter, Zironia, the Tiara in Waiting who’d yet to bear a child? Or the Spare Tiara, Merie, who worried more about the curls of her hair than the people of their land? In truth, Avera would have been the best choice, but with so many heirs in line before her, including Aldrich’s own children, she would never sit on the throne.

Or would she?

The foretelling had also claimed that Calixte’s youngest would have a great burden to bear. That the fate of the kingdom would rest upon her slender shoulders and she would face terrible ordeals that would test her strength. Hence why Avera knew how to ride and fight, and was well-learned, taught by the best Calixte could hire. She might not be able to mother her daughter as she wanted, but she’d made damned sure Avera never lacked for anything else.

Despite the sun having yet to crest the horizon, Calixte tucked the locket away with her other treasures and prepared to start her day. As she turned from her cabinet she heard a noise, a scraping sound that raised the hairs on her nape.

She whirled, seeking the source, and gaped as someone stepped out of the secret passage to her room. A hidden entrance no one but she—and her long-gone lover—should have known about.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my chambers?” Calixte exclaimed, noting the intruder wore a hood to mask their features. Their eyes were the only features visible through the cutouts.

“I am death,” a male voice intoned.

Probably meant to frighten, however, Calixte wasn’t the type to get vapors that easily.

“Who sent you?” she asked, her fingers reaching into her pocket for the dagger she’d been carrying around of late. Blame the nightmares plaguing her these past months. Dark dreams of violence and bloodshed that she couldn’t entirely shake when she woke. It turned out her niggling sense of something not right hadn’t been paranoia.

“Someone who needs you gone to clear the path to the throne.”

“Did Aldrich hire you?” she asked. She’d seen how her son, the First Prince, chafed in the wings, waiting to sit on the throne.

“Doubtful seeing as how your first born is being killed as we speak.”

How awful she didn’t feel sorrow but only relief at knowing Aldrich wouldn’t survive her. He’d long been haranguing her about stepping down so he might start his rule. It had been done in the past, but Calixte kept refusing, knowing her son wouldn’t serve the people well.

“Who is the traitor?” she asked as the intruder moved closer, his step stealthy. She could have yelled for her guards—a pair stood outside her door—but she wanted answers.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? You’ll be dead in a moment.”

“Exactly. So why not tell me? Or do you not know?”

“I don’t need to know who hired me. The guild entered into a contract, and I am here to complete its terms.”

The phrasing made him an assassin, indicating someone had gone through great trouble and expense.

“You do realize I can pay you more than they’re offering,” Calixte bargained.

“I took a vow to not be bribed.”

“Ironic words coming from a man who sees no problem with murder.”

The assassin shrugged. “Have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Which of my daughters are they planning to put in charge if I and my son are to die?”

“None. Your line ends today.” The assassin lunged with his blade and Calixte had little time to react. The dagger emerged from her pocket and barely blocked the blow aimed for her heart.

“Guards, to me!” she yelled as she recoiled to give herself space.

“Yell all you like. By the time they break down the door, you’ll be dead,” the hooded man taunted.

Thump. Thump.

The pounding at the portal had her cursing the fact she kept it locked at night. She’d thought herself safe once within, the secret passages unknown to anyone else, her kingdom at peace her entire reign. How could she have missed the bubbling discontent?

“You’ll die for this,” Calixte spat as she narrowly avoided a slash.

“Only if they catch me, which hasn’t happened yet. The guild sent their best for this job.” He darted forward and she dodged to the side, only she made a mistake in watching the hand gripping the sword. She missed the dagger the assassin pulled with his other hand. It slid into her gut with ease, and she gasped.

“You’ve killed me.” Disbelief marked her words. Of all the ways she expected to die, murder wasn’t one of them.

“It’s not personal,” he remarked, pulling the weapon from her flesh and wiping it on his trousers.

She slumped to the floor, more in shock than pain, her fingers clasped over her midsection as if that would stem the flow of blood.

He crouched in front of her. “You don’t have to suffer. Hold up your head and I’ll finish you quickly.”

“How kind of you to offer,” was her dry reply.

“I’m not a monster.”

“Could have fooled me,” she murmured, ducking her head.

“Just doing my job. Speaking of which, your soldiers are about to enter, meaning I have to leave. Are you sure you don’t want a swift death?”

She lifted her chin, baring her throat. “Yes, but first, might I see the face of the man killing me.”

He hesitated only a moment before tugging off the hood, not that she cared about his appearance. In that moment of inattention, the dagger she still held plunged. Unlike him, she didn’t miss.

The jugular she severed spurted, and he recoiled, his mouth opening and shutting without a sound, his eyes wide with disbelief. The assassin died before her guards burst into the room.

While they ran to fetch a doctor and applied pressure to her wound, Calixte already knew she wouldn’t live to see another dawn. Only the foretelling and the hope it offered kept her barking orders.

“Bring me my daughter!” Calixte kept repeating as they put her to bed and pretended they could fix her.

“They’re dead, Your Majesty,” the flustered Duke Petturi stated. “The Heir, the Tiara in Waiting, the Spare, even the baby.”

Calixte stared at the fat man who’d been her advisor for the past decade. “Where is Avera?”

“Who?”

“My youngest daughter,” she snarled.

“Oh, her.” His lips pulled down in disapproval.

“Yes, her!” she snapped. “Bring her at once.”

“Why?” The man dared to argue despite knowing she had little time.

“Gustav!” She bellowed for her Grand Rook, a man who’d been by her side for decades. A loyal soldier who would obey his queen.

Her grizzled rook arrived, wearing a grim expression framed by short silver hair. “Your Majesty.” He dropped to a knee by her bedside. “My failure to protect is inexcusable. I await your punishment.”

“This isn’t your fault,” she muttered. More like hers for refusing to live like a prisoner in a kingdom known for its peace. She gestured him close and whispered, “You must find Avera. Protect her, Gustav. She is all that matters now.”

“Yes, my queen.” He thumped his chest and left abruptly.

She closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for her youngest. Prayed for her people. And most of all, prayed those responsible would die horrifically for what they’d wrought this day.

Chapter 2

As dawn began to lighten the sky just outside the marketplace, Avera Voxspira slid from her steed’s back.

Luna nudged Avera, leading her to murmur, “I know you smell some apples. Don’t worry. I’ll get you a few juicy ones before we head back to the castle.” Right after she finished browsing the newly arrives wares.

A shipment had just arrived from the port at Horizon’s End and she really hoped to find a relic from Verlora amidst the new wares. The country, situated a week’s sail from Daerva’s east coast, had fabricated the most wondrous of objects before their continent went dark. The Verlorians used to excel in a craft they called mechanical science, and though the constructs they’d made were rare these days, Avera always kept an eye out for new ones to add to her collection, which now spanned several shelves in a storage room turned workshop. She quite enjoyed opening up the contraptions to study the cogs within, marveling at the intricate work, doing her best to understand how they worked. The tinkering kept her entertained seeing as how she didn’t have much else to do with her time.

Despite being almost thirty, and a princess, Avera didn’t have any assigned duties. Only direct heirs had expectations and tasks. Rather than languish with boredom, Avera spent most of her days playing with Verlorian devices, riding her steed, exploring the marketplace, or reading. Not exactly the most exciting life, but she had little choice. A princess wasn’t allowed to strike out on her own. A princess, even a forgotten and neglected one, was expected to live in the castle with the other royals. To present herself when necessary for special functions. To behave as befitted her role. At least, unlike her older siblings, she’d not been forced to marry to cement an alliance.

As Avera strolled the market, Luna trailed alongside her, used to the early jaunts. After all, they’d been companions for years now. The Volaqu-bred horse, a breed known for their intelligence and temperament, imported from Pequilh, was a surprise gift from her mother, the queen. Ironically, despite the lavish present, Avera felt closer to Luna than her own family. Then again, Luna actually liked her. More than once Avera had wished she could escape the castle where she’d been raised. She’d even asked her mother on more than one occasion about relocating and been firmly refused. A princess, even one far removed from the throne, apparently required constant protection. An explanation that never satisfied since no one had ever attacked the royal family.

For example, at this very moment, she was in alone in the marketplace, not a guard in sight. As she wandered, her gaze locked on a familiar shape on one of the vendor tables. She quickly headed for the item, bending her head to examine and confirm she’d found a Verlorian artifact. It appeared as a simple box of carved wood but when the lid flipped open, a figurine sprang upright and twirled as music played. A fascinating feat that some would call magic, but she could hear the whirring of gears making it a machine.

Before Avera could ask the vendor how much he wanted for it, a strident voice yelled down the main boulevard, “The queen’s been murdered!”

At the impossible statement, her heart stuttered to a stop and she dropped the box back on the table. Surely, she’d misunderstood. Avera turned to see Lord Gendry, his florid face even redder than usual as he hustled into the market square. People stopped and eyed him as he struggled for breath.

The merchant selling meat pies was the one to shout, “What’s that, again, milord?”

Lord Gendry composed himself enough to huff, “There are assassins in the palace. They’ve murdered the queen and the First Prince, as well as his consort and their child. The Tiara in Waiting and Spare Tiara are also said to be dead.”

Dead?

Avera blinked. That simply wasn’t possible. Her family, the royal family, had guards and security that were supposed to prevent incursion at the palace. It should have been impossible for anyone to get close enough to strike one member of the family, let alone all of them. Not to mention, Daerva didn’t have assassins. They were a peaceful country that rarely dealt with crime, let alone murder.

“Who’s responsible for hiring them?” asked a different merchant as he stood in front of his stall full of brightly colored scarves.

Lord Gendry shrugged and mopped his sweaty brow. “I don’t know. Once I heard about the massacre, I left.”

Someone in the listening crowd muttered, “Coward.”

They weren’t entirely wrong. Who ran when strife struck? A man who was more farmer than soldier. The Gendry family was the largest producer of crops in Daerva and rarely visited the capital. Rumor had it the lord preferred the company of his sheep to people. The gossip mill also said other much more disturbing things about Lord Gendry and his love of animals.

“If the queen and all the heirs are dead, who will rule us?” the pie seller lamented, wringing his hands.

“What of the youngest? The bastard? Was she killed too?” a woman wearing an apron asked.

“Didn’t she die of the pox?” someone ruminated.

“I hear she’s hideous which is why the queen keeps her hidden,” another commented.

Kind of hurtful. Avera didn’t consider herself ugly, and the queen didn’t so much hide her as just not involve her in matters of state.

“Oh, I forgot about the girl. What’s her name? Valerie?” the pie seller mused.

“No, you idiot, it’s Valera,” the aproned matron retorted.

Both wrong, something Avera had gotten used to given she was the unneeded fourth child the queen had born. At twenty-nine summers, she was younger by a decade than her sister with fifteen years between her and Aldrich, the First Prince. While her three siblings shared one father, Avera came about while the queen was between consorts. No one knew who’d fathered her. Not even Avera. The queen never said, and Avera had given up asking as her mother always muttered, “Nobody important.”

There was much speculation, however, because with her coloring—dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and brilliant mauve eyes—she resembled no one in the capital. The populace tended to have blonde and auburn hair with skin tones ranging from pale white to pink, or red-cheeked, if exposed to the sun.

While her appearance shouldn’t have mattered, nor the method of her conception, Avera never felt like she belonged to her family. She lacked any kind of bond or relationship with her siblings, though not for lack of trying when younger. She’d been rebuffed at every turn because they hated her. Aldrich especially enjoyed torturing her until Gustav put a stop to it. Being outcast by her brother and sisters might have been bearable if her mother would have granted Avera some attention. However, the busy queen never paid her youngest daughter much mind, which made her refusal to let Avera live elsewhere all the more maddening.

While it would sound horrible if spoken aloud, Avera felt no grief at the passing of her siblings. Shock, yes, though a shock that had more to do with possibly being the only heir left and she’d never been interested in ruling. Please let Lord Gendry be wrong.

As Avera debated returning to the castle, a cadre of soldiers came galloping into the marketplace, their tunics of blue and gold layered over their metallic armor identifying them as palace guards. And they’d come for one reason only.

Sir Gustav, the Grand Rook in charge of the Queen’s security—and the only positive influence in Avera’s life—held his stallion in place as he pointed at Avera. “There’s the First Princess. Protect her.”

First Princess? The words turned her blood cold. Gustav always called her by name not by title, and she’d never imagined that she’d be called first anything.

This can’t be happening.

An urge to flee struck Avera, and she eyed possible escape routes.

None existed as the people in the marketplace packed in tightly around her, drawn by the morbid news, although they did part to allow passage to the knights with the Grand Rook at their head.

Sir Gustav eyed her through the holes slotted in his helmet. “First Princess, there’s been an incident.”

Why so formal? Then again, they had an audience.

“Is it true my family is dead?” Avera asked.

“The queen yet lives, however, the assassins were thorough. Everyone else is dead.”

“All of them? Even baby Kona?” A sweet, chubby-cheeked girl who was always smiling.

“It was a massacre,” Sir Gustav rumbled in a low tone. “And very well planned. You’d have been dead too, had you told anyone where you went. The assassins tried your room only to find you gone.”

Because Avera had slipped away just before dawn, dressed in simple clothes because she preferred anonymity.

“You knew where to find me,” Avera pointed out.

The grizzled soldier’s lips twisted beneath the nose guard of his helmet. “Because you are predictable. A new shipment for the market always draws you in search of something interesting.”

A curiosity that saved her life.

“Am I in danger?” Avera asked as the soldiers spread out to form a circle around her and Luna.

“The assassins are still at large.” An answer of sorts. “Quickly now. Mount up and let’s return to the castle.”

Despite her annoying skirts, Avera required no help into her saddle and soon they trotted away from the marketplace, Avera boxed in on all sides by soldiers. She did her best to ignore the stares and whispers of the townsfolk they passed. Not easy since she heard someone exclaim, “That’s the First Princess? Does she not know how to dress?”

More like Avera preferred simple and comfortable garments to the intricate ruffles and layers the other ladies of court tortured themselves with.

The Grand Rook sat stiffly in his saddle as he kept pace with Luna’s quick step. He said nothing and so Avera murmured, “You said my mother lives?”

“For the moment,” Gustav stated. “The wound she took to the belly is a bad one. She only survived because she cut the assassin’s throat before he could stab her again.”

“Mother killed her attacker?” It shouldn’t have surprised. The woman had ice in her veins, but since when did she carry a weapon? Avera had never seen her mother armed and wasn’t even aware she could fight. It has always been odd to Avera that she’d received lessons in combat, but her sisters hadn’t. She could even say without lying that she’d become quite proficient with a blade, probably because she’d spent a lot of time practicing, given she had little else to do.

“Your mother has always been adept with a dagger. Once she killed her assassin, she sounded the alarm, but it was too late. The rest of the royal family had already been slain.”

“What happened to the soldiers guarding them?” The heirs had their own personal cadre of protectors and never went anywhere without them.

“Their guards were slaughtered. The assassins hit just before dawn as everyone slept.”

“I must have just missed them,” Avera mused aloud. She’d risen well before the sun and hit the kitchen for a fresh baked roll with jam as well as some carrots for Luna before heading to the market to be there when it opened.

“The killers were well coordinated. They came in unseen by any, killed everyone, and fled as quickly as they arrived. If it weren’t for your mother taking one down, we’d have never known who was responsible.”

“Who?” Avera asked, expecting him to blame the marauders to the west. The Okkilamian had a thing for attacking their ships, although they’d never been brazen enough to cause trouble in Daerva.

To her surprise, Gustav said, “Judging by the appearance of the one your mother killed, Verlorian.”

“How? They’re all dead.” Verlora and its people had essentially ceased to exist after a catastrophic event. Ships stopped sailing between their lands because those who went to investigate never returned.

“Not all of them perished. A few that weren’t in the country at the time of its demise did survive and, from what I’ve heard, turned to pirating and apparently now murder,” was Gustav’s grim reply. The grizzled soldier had long been in the crown’s service. In his sixties—as old as her mother—and yet still fit and sharp. He could be demanding and quite stern when he gave Avera lessons in swordplay, but at the same time, he’d always been kind to her. She knew when he praised her that she’d earned it. In many respects, he was like a father to her, not that he was ever so bold as to show her actual affection. But the fact he didn’t ignore her helped.

“How did a group of Verlorians manage to get past our port authority without notice?” Avera asked.

“That is a question we’re all asking.”

“Do you think the port inspector was bribed to look the other way?”

“Most likely. The question being, which port?” Gustav mused.

Daerva, a continent that sat high above sea level with dominating cliffs all around, had only two bays where ships could anchor. Horizon’s End was only a day’s ride from the capital city of Velunda, and Seaserpent Bay took a week or more of travel overland. If the killers came through that far port, they could have chosen to save time by crossing the Lake of Tears, but that would have required the assassins hiring—or stealing—a vessel capable of handling the lake’s poisoned waters. Only the most daring ever attempted to cross.

“You said only one of them was killed. So where did the rest of the assassins go?” Avera mused aloud.

“We don’t know,” Gustav growled. “It’s why the queen sent me to find you. Currently, we have knights and pawns searching the castle top to bottom.”

Apparently, they should have been searching the city because as she and her soldierly escort cantered into the last street—one lined with three-story houses inhabited by the richest and most favored noble ladies and lords—they were attacked!

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