AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Means little to a man who has endured centuries of hell because of it. Are you using your brain at all?”
“Whose side are you on?” I scowl.
Sabelle tosses a curtain of golden curls behind her delicate shoulder.
My sister looks like a cross between a faerie and a siren. Little wonder, since she has the blood of each running through her veins. If she ever finds the right man, he’ll stand virtually no chance of resisting her. But the bastard better, unless he has my blessing…or he wants to die.
“What about Ms. Gray? Aunt Millie told me of her…illness.”
“I think Marrok realizes she’s not Morgana. If I’m wrong, she’s as good as in the grave. And the Le Fay line will die, perhaps for good.”
“But they’re mates.”
I shrug. “But he might well be willing to cut out his heart for the chance to destroy Morgana. But that isn’t our problem.”
“Mathias is.” Sabelle sinks into a nearby chair. Cunning and fortitude blend into a determined expression that, as an older brother, scares the hell out of me. “We must do something.”
“Stay out of this, Sabelle.”
“Don’t be absurd. I may look fragile, but, like you, half of my genes come from Merlin’s royal line. I won’t sit about like some helpless princess while the rest of magickind fights. It’s my cause, too. My people.”
I can’t fault her logic. Why can’t she be totally selfish like her mother? Devanna would happily sit back and watch others die for her.
“Sabelle…”
She grabs my hand. As always, her touch soothes me. Thanks to her siren blood and potent magic, she can put her hand on anyone and make them feel whatever she wishes.
I scowl and try to shake free. “Keep your tricks to yourself.”
She squeezes me tighter. “Take a deep breath.”
Hell, there’s no fighting her once she’s made up her mind.
After I comply with her “request,” she soothes me by rubbing a soft thumb across my knuckles. Resisting is a losing battle. Peace settles comfortably under my skin.
Finally, she releases me. “You were saying? Mathias has gathered the Anarki again and is—”
“Wreaking havoc.” Grimness edges into my artificial calm. “If the rest of the Council refuses to act, I have no choice but to find those willing to put their differences aside and fight.”
Sabelle opens her mouth, but three deep gongs interrupt, announcing arriving company. From the sounds of the magical calling card, Lucan MacTavish has arrived.
Saved by the bell.
Mentally, I open a portal into the manor. Moments later, my best friend Lucan appears in my foyer with his mate, Anka, his large hand clasping her much smaller one. Sabelle and I wander in to meet them.
Lucan sticks out his free hand. “Hello. Greetings to you. Peace be with you and yours. I’ll even add live long and prosper if you’ll tell me what the hell is happening.”
Reluctantly, I smile as I take in the well-mated couple. The match is a strong one. From good families, both of them. Powerful, magically compatible, well-educated, well-connected. Anka is the light to Lucan’s darkness, the laughter in his silence. I hope to make such a match someday. First, said witch will have to appear.
Another problem for another time.
I shake my friend’s hand. “Peace be with you and yours. I plan to live long and prosper, thank you. Here’s what’s happening—and none of it is good. The Council received a distress signal from the MacKinnetts in Surrey. The family took no heed of my warning, and I arrived to a bloodbath. All men and most women murdered—branded with a certain symbol we all know. Every child missing—six of them, the youngest just four. The Council member’s untransitioned daughter has vanished. Sound familiar?”
Lucan pales. “Your vision came to pass? Mathias is back?”
I nod grimly. “Who but the Anarki would wield that symbol? Who but Mathias would be behind such atrocities?”
“What can be done to stop them? Will the Council—”
