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PRAISE FOR DANI HARPER “Kept my interest from beginning to end . . . Really looking forward to reading more in Ms. Harper’s Grim world, and I definitely recommend Storm Warned if you’re in the mood for some Fae.” —Literary Addiction “Wonder touches Spokane Valley, Wash., and the life of veterinarian Morgan Edwards in Harper’s beautifully narrated foray into Celtic myth and legend . . . Harper provides excellent texture and depth with a touch of sincere empathy for animals, rounding out an already excellent novel.” —Publishers Weekly “Harper skillfully builds characters and situations that evoke empathy for the good citizens of both the human and shapeshifter species . . . ” —RT Book Reviews “Storm Warned is captivating! The characters are great and the world the author has built is strongly reminiscent of the original dark faery tales.” —Bibliophilic “A delicious and elegant read, filled with humor, beauty, friendship, hotness, and a little horror (as things with the fae often are). I
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ALSO BY DANI HARPER The Grim Series Novels Storm Warrior Storm Bound Storm Warned Storm Crossed The Changeling Shapeshifter Series Changeling Moon Changeling Dream Changeling Dawn A Dark Wolf Novel First Bite The Haunted Holiday Series The Holiday Spirit (All She Wants for Christmas Is a Ghost)
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2018 by Dani Harper All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781503948945 ISBN-10: 1503948943 Cover design by Jason Blackburn
In memory of Dianne MacDonald. Thanks for being a loving mom to my daughter when I couldn’t be there. Thanks for raising such a wonderful young woman to be my daughter’s best friend, too! And thanks for being my friend. I always appreciated your smile, your ready laugh, and your encouragement. No writer could ask for a truer or kinder fan. I hope you’re reading this book over my shoulder!
CONTENTS START READING PROLOGUE ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR TWENTY-FIVE TWENTY-SIX TWENTY-SEVEN TWENTY-EIGHT TWENTY-NINE THIRTY THIRTY-ONE THIRTY-TWO THIRTY-THREE THIRTY-FOUR THIRTY-FIVE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AUTHOR’S NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
When the student is ready, the teacher appears. —Unknown
PROLOGUE Darkness held no terrors for the boy. Shadows were soft, colors veiled, sounds muted. A relief from the overbright and noisome day that jangled his senses and hurt his head. And when the moon rode the indigo sky, everything was brushed with silver: his rock collection, his coloring markers in their lumpy clay cup, his bookshelves, and even the rows of crazy copper-wire creatures on his desk had paled to a gentle pearl gray. The moon’s light created a magical and comfortable world just for him. Tonight, the moon was round and fat. The boy lay on his side in bed, where he could watch through the tall window. Once, his teacher had read a story about a man who lived in the moon. But although the boy always looked, he didn’t see the man. The moon was his friend, though. And sometimes, the moon’s light showed him things: hazy images of new places or new people. The boy understood that it was sort of like a television show—they weren’t really in his room with him. But he knew they wo
ONE Royal Court, Palace of Queen Gwenhidw Heart of the Fae Realms, Wales A Thousand Mortal Years Ago . . . There is no such thing as love!” Trahern shoved at his twin. “Your foolish ideas will get you banished, and for what? Nothing in the Nine Realms will change. Nothing! Eirianwen will rule the House of Oak for yet another millennium, while you live out your days in exile. What will you have proven?” Braith shoved back and followed it with a punch of magic that sent Trahern sailing backward across the royal garden until he slammed high into the trunk of a tree in a flurry of golden leaves. It was as if they were children again, testing each other like young stags. But that was centuries ago, and this was no game. The palace loomed large over them as they argued in its sprawling gardens. Braith had been called to appear before the Royal Court. “I will have Saffir, and her alone. I will not bend to Eirianwen’s wishes. I will not consent to this pairing with Idelle.” Trahern landed ligh
TWO Viewed from the very bottom, the cave was long and narrow, as sinuous as a dragon, until it faded into distant darkness. Countless stone chambers lined one wall, carved into the rock itself. Glittering things hung on the opposite wall. At Trahern’s approach, they coalesced into countless woven silver collars and thick chest plates that resembled heavy chain-mail. His sorcerer’s sight revealed the green aura of binding magic around them. No magic was needed to sense the aura of misery and despair here. He was close to despairing himself. Nine suns and twelve moons had passed since Eirianwen ordered what was left of his brother to be taken away to the kennels. Nine suns and twelve moons that Trahern had counted breath by painful breath, before the smug matriarch finally tired of her prolonged games at Court and left, taking her camarilla with her. Nine suns and twelve moons before he was finally free to search for his twin. To the kennels. He’d assumed she meant where the Wild Hunt h
THREE No sooner had he brushed Cyflym’s side with his heel than both horses erupted from the cave entrance like bats escaping into the night. For a brief, frantic moment, Trahern wished he’d glued his own body to his mount with magic. A few rapid heartbeats later, he adjusted to the frenzied rhythm. These were like no animals he’d ever ridden. Their speed was incredible—and deathly silent, save for the wind rushing by his ears. No hooves touched the ground as they dashed beyond the marsh and into the deep forest beyond. Veering as one, the horses left the main trail almost at once and galloped single file along a narrow stag path. Trahern ducked over the horse’s neck to avoid the branches and saplings that slapped at him, glad that Braith was already as low as possible on his own steed. Leaping over riverbeds of amethyst water, dodging impossibly tall trees that sported monstrous glowing shelves of fungus, the fleet horses didn’t slow for an instant. Trahern had traveled much, yet this
FOUR Walla Walla, Eastern Washington, USA Present Day The ear-piercing screams would have done a pterodactyl proud as nine-year-old Fox entered total meltdown mode in the produce department of Naturally Yours Organics. As usual, the din won either disapproving glares or pained expressions of sympathy from other shoppers. Today the glares were in the majority. In a last-ditch effort to defuse the situation, Lissy sat down on the hardwood floor next to her son’s flailing body. “Just breathe, bud. Breathe in and out.” She kept her voice calm and matter-of-fact, even as she slid his beloved Squishy Bear close to him. Sometimes the soft toy was a life preserver in a storm of stimulation that he couldn’t process fast enough. Not today. “It’s okay, we’re going now.” She got to her feet and hefted Fox, all fifty-one struggling pounds of him, onto her hip. He was small for his age—what on earth would she do when he got bigger? Either rent a hand truck or get a hip replacement. Especially when h
FIVE The morning star glittered near the sinking moon, and the Wild Hunt wheeled as one. Trahern didn’t have to order the dozen riders to return to Tir Hardd. The night had belonged to the fae since the beginning of the world, but the overbright day was usually abandoned to mortals. If he closed his eyes now, he would feel the pull of the faery realm as surely as metal was drawn to a lodestone. The lathered horses felt it. All of them, including Trahern’s own horned mount, Cyflym, sprang into a gallop with renewed energy. Hard on the horses’ heels, a pack of grinning white hounds, the tireless Cŵn Annwn of legend, lengthened their pace as well. He glanced down. As always, a much larger and more powerfully built dog ran effortlessly beside him, broad head level with Trahern’s silver stirrup and large leonine paws striking the ground in eerie silence. With his enormous jaws, he could easily have dismembered any or all of the white hounds. Instead, while Braith didn’t deign to run with th
SIX The stranger’s unnerving gaze lingered for only a moment before apparently dismissing her. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, and Lissy realized he spoke to the enormous canine behind her. “Wait a sec. This is your dog? Yours?” All the shock and fear of the past few minutes transmuted into anger. She’d been prepared to die defending her child, and this man, this being, was responsible! It was as if a switch inside had been thrown, and she stepped into his line of sight. “What the hell were you thinking, letting this animal run around loose like that?” she demanded. He merely looked around her, as if she were a tree or a bush or a goddamn rock, and that just ramped up her fury. “You! I’m talking to you!” Without thought but backed by a considerable amount of adrenaline, she shoved him with all her strength. The element of surprise gave her an extra advantage, and the tall man stumbled back a step. Now she had his full attention. Most nature documentaries she’d watched advise
SEVEN Although there’d been some talk of driving home last night after the unexpected visit from the fae and his canine companion, it was short-lived. Brooke had phoned Aidan and Rhys at their camp down the road, and the guys had come on the run. Both were big, heavily muscled men who looked like they could tear a fae in two like a phone book. They’d be glad to do it, too. Furious that their wives and friends had been frightened, they volunteered to keep watch for the rest of the night. In the end, everyone, even Lissy, felt solid about staying. As for Fox, he wasn’t frightened at all. Instead, he’d fallen asleep in his pup tent with his little fingers crossed that the giant dog would come back. Lissy wished she could fit in there to cuddle him for the rest of the night, but he never seemed to enjoy sleeping with her. You know I have to sleep straight. You take up too much room, and then I have to curl up like a snail, he’d once told her. “I’ll be sitting right outside the boy’s door t
EIGHT The stiffly manicured grounds and unimaginative landscaping offered little cover, but a minor enchantment easily camouflaged Trahern and his horse. He stood leaning against Cyflym as he studied the upstairs windows of the strange little row houses. Truth be told, he was disappointed that the woman and her son lived in such a place. The idea of dwelling so close to others repelled him. It was like a pysky colony, only these buildings were unnaturally angular and lacking in any adornment whatsoever. Beauty was an essential ingredient in every structure in the fae realms. Did these humans lack an appreciation of it? Other humans, he corrected himself. Because while most of the covered entrances were bare or cluttered with dull furniture, there was a definite acknowledgment of nature by the woman’s door: many vibrant flowers growing in colorful pots; a clever copper wind chime that struck pleasing notes in the breeze; a tray of seeds on the railing to attract birds; and along the fro
NINE Unlike the rooms upstairs, the woman’s kitchen was of a reasonable size—if you were a coblyn, that is. He approved of the pleasant wall color, though—green again, a vivid shade reminiscent of budding leaves. Open shelves displayed bright plates and bowls, and the windowsill boasted an assortment of colored glass bottles that would capture positive energies—even spirits—when daylight shone through them. Clear jars of spices and herbs marched along the back of the counter, like ingredients in an alchemist’s study. An upright metal cabinet—no. He corrected himself. The cabinet was a human machine, a cold box for storing foods, and its bland surface was nearly covered with layers of her son’s paper artwork—and one of the uppermost drawings boasted a gray dog with golden eyes very much like Braith. The dog in the picture was smiling. Smiling! Trahern resisted the impulse to scowl. Meanwhile, the woman motioned him to a rather plain chair. At least it is made of wood, not metal. Tracing
TEN Trahern was taken aback as the ellyll spat on the floor at his feet. “Why insult me, good sir, when it pleases me to see you?” “Don’t be good sirrin’ me. And it would please me ta be callin’ down lightnin’ where ya stand.” He pointed a long twiggy finger that glowed like a white-hot ember. Energy sprang instantly to Trahern’s palms, but not before a thunderous roar shook the glass in the windows. The great gray grim leapt in front of him, showing every one of his long teeth at the ellyll— And abruptly vanished. “What have you done with my brother?” shouted Trahern, holding aloft an apple-size sphere of crackling green light. If Braith were injured in any way . . . The ellyll adjusted his strange blue cap, jamming it down on his long braided hair until a handful of leaves went whirling to the floor. “I sent your great calf of a pet to Tir Hardd.” He put up his little knobby fists in front of him and bounced from side to side on his woody toes. “Yer lucky I didn’t send him clear to t
ELEVEN Lissy eased herself into a kitchen chair as Ranyon apologized for the third time, complete with tears that squirted out of the corners of his bright-blue eyes. She handed him the dish towel from the nearby oven handle and tried not to flinch as he loudly blew his ample nose on it. I feel so bad for lecturing him. What happened to his family was horrific, and he had every right to be upset—but what was I supposed to do? Her son’s well-being had to come first, and right now Fox alternated between shrieking and crying in the other room. She supposed she’d have to haul him up to his room like a newly roped steer and let him sort himself out on his own. Right now, though, it felt like her son’s bedroom was ten flights up instead of only one. Was this weird-ass day ever going to end? Brooke appeared in the kitchen. “Are you guys all right?” “Nay, I’ve been naught but a proper dihiryn and given dreadful offense to a dear friend.” Ranyon sniffed as fresh tears spurted. Lissy ordered her
TWELVE Though he could barely see over the tops of the tables, Fychan the tavern keeper wended his way through the boisterous crowd effortlessly, delivering yet another large silver tankard of coblyn ale to Trahern’s table without spilling a drop. He gathered up the empties but refused to accept a proffered coin. “Thee knows the auld proverb: naught for a Hunter, naught from a Hunter.” Of course, Trahern knew the superstitious saying. Everyone did. If you didn’t charge a Hunter for your services, you’d never find yourself judged by a Hunter. At least, that’s what many in the Nine Realms liked to believe. He’d never taken advantage of that belief before. In fact, he didn’t know of any rider who would. “My coin has fit in your hand rather well on other nights.” “Thee hast never drunk this much on other nights. I figure thee for sorrow. Ne’er a good practice to profit from sorrow. Brings poor luck. May thy luck change, and if ale won’t help it along, I’ll bring thee something stronger.” F
THIRTEEN In Trahern’s former life, his finely honed talent for negotiation made him both highly respected and successful in trade. Now he had to negotiate some sort of leave from the Wild Hunt. Was such a thing even possible? He had no idea how his petition would be received—not only was a human involved, but Braith had already acted on his own and left the Hunt. Did that negate Lurien’s protection? The dark fae was truly a law unto himself, and no one, not even Eirianwen, dared cross him. Retribution was swift and terrible and certain. But Trahern also knew that Lurien held himself to a strict code of honor. He treated his Hunters well and, unlike many of the Tylwyth Teg, was both approachable and reasonable. Most of the time . . . There must be a way to convince him. With the queen still in residence in Tir Hardd, the Lord of the Wild Hunt could only be at the old capital, as far away from the monarch as possible. Eventually, Trahern found his leader on a broad knoll in the Black Mar
FOURTEEN The coffee can was empty. It took two cups of strong black tea and part of a third before her head finally cleared. Lissy had checked on Fox before coming downstairs, but he was still sprawled with an arm around Squishy Bear and softly snoring. And yup, Braith was still there, too, awake and alert, though he remained beside Fox’s bed. He thumped his tail and appeared to grin as he recognized Lissy, just as any family dog would do. If any family dog was a great gray grim . . . She had no idea what Braith would do if someone tried to mess with her son, but surely just becoming visible to them would be deterrent enough. After draining her cup, she rooted around in the freezer for an organic breakfast burrito to heat up. Tea was really not her drink, and so much of it on an empty stomach was never a good idea, but last night’s erotic dreams (not to mention this morning’s shower-powered orgasm) seemed to have shorted out most of her brain cells. And when a few finally revived, they
FIFTEEN The pharmacy was five blocks over and two blocks down. Lissy decided to walk, hoping it would give her time to think of an approach. Should she go up to the dispensing counter with a question of some kind for the pharmacist . . . and then act surprised that the pharmacist was Vincente? Not really my style. Maybe she could just browse, then look over and catch his eye. Better, but what if he doesn’t look up? She crossed the last street and stood in front of the shop windows, pretending to be interested in a display of orthopedic sandals. Finally, she straightened her blouse, adjusted her cross-body handbag, and headed inside. Pharmacies always seemed to have a certain aroma to them, like sniffing a bottle of aspirin. This one seemed to have a fruity potpourri mixed in. There were the businesslike aisles of cold and stomach remedies, vitamins and ointments, diapers and tissues, plus an entire section of feminine-hygiene products. Definitely not going to browse there. Glass shelve
SIXTEEN I have to get to Fox! The noise was not only deafening but dizzying, driving her to her knees with vertigo. Nevertheless, Lissy fought her way inside the building, crawling along the smooth black-and-white tiles. If anything, the sound was even louder in here. There was no sign of anyone in the main shop, no one hiding behind any of the counters or under the table of a booth. The storeroom. The last time she was here, Aidan had helped Fox build a fort out of boxes . . . Lissy clamped her jaws shut against the nausea that roiled her stomach, as her fear for her child drove her onward. She’d nearly reached the black paneled door marked STAFF ONLY when Ranyon appeared at her elbow. Quickly, the ellyll placed his strange twiggy hands over her ears and muttered something she had no hope of hearing over the din— And then suddenly she could hear. The wailing seemed no louder than a teakettle whistle—aggravating but not debilitating—as if the little elemental had dialed down the volume
SEVENTEEN Most rooftops in the downtown area were hot, dusty places, with strange vents and stranger posts and poles, all crisscrossed with wires. The top of Brooke’s building, however, was a lush oasis in the middle of a barren desert. Lissy passed the large greenhouse and a wall of rolling carts supporting raised garden beds. On another day, she would have been content to remain among the soothing greenery. But there was more to the rooftop beyond the sea of plants. She looked in that direction and—dammit! A moment’s inattention allowed a stray melon vine to bring her down, skinning her left elbow in the process. She sat for a moment, picking tiny bits of grit and roofing tar from the wound and catching her breath. And wasn’t that just like her life with Fox? Things would go along fine for a while, then bam! This whole magical thing was one of the biggest surprises she’d ever had, though. As Lissy got up and dusted off the knees of her jeans, she wished again that it could all be a m
EIGHTEEN The coffee cup tumbled from Lissy’s hand. She barely heard the noise of it shattering on the tiles over the tumult of her thoughts. “You can’t be serious, Ranyon. Lurien? The Lurien showed up at a human hospital?” “Aye, his very self. The Lord of the Wild Hunt came strolling down the hallway in his great leather boots as if he did it every day, and not a single mortal noticed him. He passed that place where they line up all the babes in a row like pastries in a shop window, and he never gave it a glance. Instead, he came straight into the nursery for the very wee ones like Fox. I was there, minding yer own business and making up some more charms for our brand-new boy, when—” “What kind of mojo did you put on Fox?” “Well, my very best, a’course!” he retorted. “Protection, first and foremost, his being so new and all. And then a few to make him hale and hearty.” “Healthy and strong,” said Brooke. “Fox was premature. If Ranyon hadn’t done it, I would have done it myself, Liss.” S
NINETEEN The tall fae stared at the door with furrowed brow, as if it were personally responsible for his discomfort. He was determined to align himself with human custom for Lissy’s sake—but in the absence of servants, he was uncertain how to announce his presence. No bell ropes hung from the small porch roof, no embroidered pulls along the walls in either direction. The annoying neighbor had banged on the door and shouted Lissy’s name like a kobold selling fire salamanders in the marketplace. Surely that cannot be right . . . As he pondered what to do, a scraping sound above made him take a few steps over to look past the roof. A blond-haired boy folded his arms on a second-story windowsill and rested his chin on them as he regarded Trahern. Braith’s massive head hovered over him like a great lion. “Dude, how come you’re still on the porch?” “I’m observing the rules of courtesy and waiting to be granted entrance.” Fox frowned. “You mean like waiting for somebody to let you in? Braith
TWENTY This must be how the Grinch felt when little Cindy Lou Who surprised him . . . Unfortunately, she had no Christmas tree to hide behind. “I’m sorry, Fox,” she began. “We were disagreeing, and we got carried away.” “Braith says you were kissing Trahern!” That Braith is a tattletale. She threw a glare at the dog looming behind her son, but the great creature simply wagged his tail. Her cheeks reddened—she could feel the heat—as she scrambled for something, anything, to say to her son. Great. I got nothing. Trahern, however, wasn’t as tongue-tied. “Your mother is a remarkable woman,” he said with a lot more calm than she could have managed. “And I have a great liking for her.” Ignoring the loud raspberry from Ranyon, he continued. “Therefore, I kissed her.” Fox made a face. “Dude, that’s so gross!” He bounced the rest of the way down the stairs, with Braith following him like a silent gray shadow. “Can I have ice cream?” Either he was satisfied by the fae’s explanation or he was as
TWENTY-ONE Lissy dumped the hot popcorn into the last bowl and drizzled butter over the fluffy kernels as snatches of dialogue from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone could be clearly heard in the kitchen. She’d have to turn the volume down again—if she could pry the remote from her son’s hands. Balancing four bowls in her arms, she headed to the living room and paused in the kitchen doorway to appreciate the view from behind the couch. Braith sprawled on the floor in front of it as usual, but his hindquarters and tail extended comically beyond it. Next, over the back of the cushions, she could just see a tiny patch of bright blue that was the top of Ranyon’s baseball hat. After that was an untidy thatch of blond hair: her son. And on Fox’s right, Trahern’s wide dark-cloaked shoulders loomed large, and his long braid of white hair lay along the top of the couch. Who’d have thought that I’d be hosting movie night for such a diverse audience? It had been her idea. Although Fox’s first
TWENTY-TWO You turned your own brother into a grim?” “No—yes—no.” Trahern released her and stalked away from the fire to an overgrown corner of the yard. The wild tangle of ivy resembled his thoughts at the moment. “It is complicated.” “I’m sure it is.” She rose and followed him. “And I think you’d better explain it to me.” “The hour is late for you. I should take my leave and return tomorrow.” “Not a chance, mister.” Lissy put a hand on his arm as if to stop him. As if she could . . . yet he did not move. “There’s no room for secrets in a relationship, whether you’re friends or—or whatever the heck you and I are to each other,” she continued. “You don’t get to drop a bombshell like that on me, and then just walk away!” “You are not Tylwyth Teg. You would not understand.” The instant the words left his lips, he knew he’d made a serious mistake. Those wondrous sable eyes that never failed to mesmerize him now flashed with the same fierce temper he’d admired when he first saw her. And as
TWENTY-THREE Thank heavens the neighbors hadn’t heard any of that. Lissy couldn’t help but grin as she stretched languidly and snuggled closer to Trahern on the feather-soft surface. The bench was gone, having been magically replaced with a broad divan in the instant that he rolled her underneath him the second—no, the third time they had come together. Her body felt gloriously well used and satisfied right down to the bone. I’m never going to be able to get this smile off my face. She paused, wondering if Trahern had heard her thoughts, but he remained sound asleep. He’d told her that the fae didn’t need to sleep often, certainly not every night as humans did. And she knew from his memories that he seldom slept at all, spending most of his downtime searching for a way to restore his brother. He thinks the fae do not love. Considering his horrific experience with his mother, she could see where he got that idea. But Trahern’s devotion to Braith showed otherwise. And what of his tendern
TWENTY-FOUR Close your eyes. Then draw the energy to you.” “Dude, do I have to close my eyes every time? It’s boring.” Trahern directed a look at Braith. The big dog stretched out in the ivy-laden corner of the yard, watching with what looked suspiciously like amusement. Fox’s expression changed with his brother’s unspoken cue, however, and Trahern knew they communicated. It was hard not to feel a pang of—what? It wasn’t envy so much as a wistful sadness that he couldn’t hear Braith’s words in his own head anymore. I miss it . . . I miss him. “Yeah, I guess so,” Fox said, responding aloud to whatever Braith had said in silence. “But just one more time, okay?” He heaved a dramatic sigh and closed his eyes, then tried once again to do what was asked of him. Instantly, Trahern sensed currents of energy beneath his feet. Tiny trickles grew into rivulets, joining, expanding streams. Energy was being drawn from all quarters of the property and beyond—perhaps even from the entire neighborhood
TWENTY-FIVE By all the stars, it should have gone well. Trahern had planned carefully for the morning’s lesson. With Fox advancing in leaps and bounds with energy manipulation, surely he might be ready for an introduction to plant lore. Trahern had taken Lissy’s suggestion and created a set of vivid illustrations that would function as flash cards. The backyard had been seeded with select specimens that would grow and bloom before Fox’s eyes. Colorful stones filled Trahern’s pockets, motivation for effort and rewards for achievement. And when Brooke came by to invite Lissy to shop, he urged her to go, assuring her that he would take excellent care of her son. Instead, Fox now thrashed on the ground, wailing like a lost soul. Cards and stones littered the yard as if they had hailed down from the skies. Next to him, Braith lay motionless with his great head slumped on his large paws. He whined softly, but Fox didn’t seem to know he was there, and certainly Trahern’s own efforts to speak
TWENTY-SIX It’s a toaster. It makes toast,” said Lissy. He watched as she opened a window to let some of the acrid smoke out of the kitchen. She opened the back door as well—there was a lot of smoke. Trahern eyed the small metal box dubiously. “It makes nothing. It applies heat to bread you already have.” “Yeah, well, in this case it makes charcoal out of that bread if you turn the timer all the way like that. In fact, I think you broke it. Don’t you have any appliances in the faery realm?” They would look very much out of place there. “There are no machines in the Nine Realms. We have no need of them.” Lissy looked surprised. “None at all? No phones, no laptops, no refrigerators? How do you live without technology?” “How do you live without magic? You create machines to do for you what our magic provides for us. But as fascinating and clever as your devices are, they are still very limited.” “You think magic is better.” “Let us say it is more efficient.” He raised a hand and fanned it
TWENTY-SEVEN A scream rose in her throat and stayed there. There was no sensation of falling, no sensation of gravity, no inner warning of being up or down or anything. As far as her equilibrium was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary—except for the terrifying view and the deafening roar as they rode straight down the back of the plunging cataract! The green-blue water below was a fast-approaching wall . . . And then it stopped. Everything around her stopped. The surging water that pounded beneath the horses’ hooves, the wind and spray that numbed her face, the thunderous rumble and crash of the falls that shook her bones. All soundless. All still. Yet the horses galloped on, seemingly unaffected. By now they should have struck the great rocky basin of water, shattered like glass against concrete. Instead, distance had changed, shifted, lengthened into the strange vacuum of silence. I’m glowing! We’re glowing! Lissy stared hard at her hands knotted in Cyflym’s long mane. Despite
TWENTY-EIGHT There was no scent of burning leaves, no stench of magic of any kind. Indigo blood, heart’s blood, stained the fine green pelt and ran down the steps to pool on the street below. The stag had been felled with a single obsidian arrow—and the arrow was fletched with amber and claret. “We are leaving. Now.” There is no time for the horses, he added silently. It was all the warning he could give her before he gripped her hand and hurtled them both through what must surely appear to her as a tunnel of stars . . . They burst onto the mortal plane amid an army of small spruce trees that marched in rows as far as the eye could see. Trahern caught Lissy to him and held her tightly until she stopped shaking. “I really, really hate that, you know,” she muttered into his tunic. “I know.” With one last shudder, she pushed herself away from him—still clutching his tunic with one hand to steady herself—and looked around. “Where are we?” “Your world.” “That’s a little broad. My world, whe
TWENTY-NINE Lissy opened her eyes to find herself facedown on a polished stone floor, the smooth surface cool against her cheek. She didn’t dare move—not yet—though she was stiff, sore, woozy, and utterly furious that her captors had knocked her out for the trip to wherever the hell she was. Not a dungeon, at least. Small splashes of sunlight here and there struck dragonfly hues of green, gold, and blue from the seamless stone. The flashy iridescence automatically identified it to her inner geologist as a feldspar—labradorite—though she’d never seen it in such quantity. Listening intently, she heard nothing except far-off birdsong and her own heartbeat. Finally, she risked raising herself on her elbows. A rough serpentine shape filled her field of vision, and she was forced to sit up to take stock of her surroundings. The shape belonged to a massive tree root, just one of hundreds that pierced the stone floor, rising upward and coming together to form a cleverly stepped platform. Glanc
THIRTY This is the mortal?” Lissy’s eyes flew open, and she glanced around wildly. The melodious voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, but there was no one in sight. Every lilting word possessed an alluring musical quality, and she found herself automatically yearning to hear more—until some warning instinct kicked in. It’s magic. Someone is using magic on me. The realization seemed to break the enchantment because when the voice continued, there was no crystal chime at all but a chilling undercurrent of broken glass and shards of bone rubbing together in a fast-running stream . . . “You are quite certain it is the one I seek?” Hearing nothing more for a time, she stood stiffly. Every muscle protested as she straightened. Serves me right for falling asleep on a rock. Turning in a circle, she scanned the room carefully. A faint shimmering—not unlike a heat wave rising from a summer pavement—drew her attention to the very center of the great dais. As Lissy turned to look at it, t
THIRTY-ONE The black dog automatically bowed to Lissy before returning to rigid attention. Astonishment left her wordless, but it didn’t stop her heart from being wrung by the animal’s dull, haunted eyes. Does Eirianwen think that’s really Braith, or is she testing me to see what I know? Whatever the game was, however, she needed to play along. And she’d say nothing about the great gray grim that had befriended her son. Eirianwen left the golden branch of her office on the mighty chair and strolled elegantly along the length of the dais. “It cannot be said that I do not treasure my children,” she said. “But I could not permit either of them to fulfill Braith’s prediction. And thus, he remains well protected in the form you see before you. As a grim, he can do nothing but obey, yet he is alive and will remain so indefinitely. And though I did not plan it so, his fate protected his brother as well. Rather than share his twin’s destiny, Trahern went straightway to the Hunt and has remaine
THIRTY-TWO Trahern stood outside the vast living dome of enchanted oak, with Cadell now hidden as a mouse in his pocket. There is no point in making a simple appeal, he thought. Mercy did not exist in his mother, nor was there the slightest vestige of compassion that could be entreated. But there was Eirianwen’s pride. That he could count upon, that he could work with. Plus, of course, a little diversion. The great tree shuddered in every limb, and a hail of leaves and acorns fell to the stone floor as Trahern translated into the Hall within a blinding flash of magenta energy. “What need has the House of Oak for a human?” he demanded, his words infused with disdain as the colorful flare crackled and dissipated at the far end of the oaken dais. Drawing attention to himself permitted the invisible pwca to slip away to find Lissy. It took considerable resolve for Trahern not to turn his head to look for her himself. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, his riding boots loud upon the golden
THIRTY-THREE Not one but several gaping holes now pierced the dome of the Great Hall. Broken tree limbs littered the floor, charred black by magic. Dark flakes of ash, the remains of thousands of fallen oak leaves, eddied upward into small whirlwinds. Somewhere among the fragments were the remains of Trahern’s riding leathers and even his boots. He’d burned them from his skin with a single word to reveal his ledrith marks to the element of air. The words of conjurations and symbols of power glowed bright enough to cast a halo of light around him as he fought, clad only in simple gray braies that barely reached his knees. Now, however, Trahern had drawn nearly all the magical energy he could from the rock beneath his bare feet and the swirling air around him. Sweating, winded, burned, and bleeding freely from a dozen wounds large and small, he stood as far from the oaken dais as possible, carefully contemplating his next move. His muscles ached, and his ledrith had begun to fade, but—a
THIRTY-FOUR A loud crack deafened Lissy, as if a lightning bolt had struck only yards away, but far worse was the enormous weight that suddenly rolled over her and Trahern. A scream fought for release, but she didn’t have enough air. Just as she was certain they would both be crushed or smothered, the terrible pressure moved past them, and they were free of it. Trahern shifted, and she gulped in several breaths until the dots in her vision cleared, but he refused to let her up. It is not yet safe. Look, he whispered in her mind. Fox stood above them, still in ninja mode, unmoved and unharmed. Beyond them, an invisible force radiated outward in a great ring, picking up speed and driving everything it touched ahead of it—rocks, branches, leaves, and debris—leaving only the scoured stone floor behind. It’s some weird kind of pressure wave. Her inner scientist considered. But it’s so slow— Then Fox threw a punch at the air. A deep, monstrous thud assaulted her senses anew, vibrating throug
THIRTY-FIVE Trahern gazed up at the once-great castle, the seat of power of the House of Oak for untold millennia. The towers had all fallen, and a third of the enormous building was split off from the rest by a yawning rift, leagues long and cut so deeply into the bedrock that the bottom could not be seen—the rock-splitting result of the lightning he’d called down during the battle with Eirianwen. Even as he watched, several stones crumbled from a wall and fell soundlessly into the chasm. Beside him, Ranyon whistled. “I’m thinkin’ ya shoulda started with the light whip in the first place. Ya mighta cut the castle out from under Eirianwen and finished the fight a mite sooner.” “I will try to remember that for next time,” said Trahern. But there wouldn’t be a next time. Eirianwen would never regain her magic or position, and certainly not the life she was accustomed to. Injured and powerless, she’d been quickly found and cornered by Lord Lurien’s relentless white hounds. For her many cr
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Behind every published writer stands an entire team! I’m tremendously fortunate to have a great one in the form of family, friends, and professionals who help me make my stories the best they can be—and keep me sane with coffee, kind words, and unbelievable patience. To my publisher, Montlake Romance; my wonderful editors, copy editors, and proofreaders; and my intrepid Author Team. You guys seriously rock! I could not ask for more positive people to work with. To artist Jason Blackburn for another amazing cover. You captured the hero on the first try! And to narrator Justine Eyre for bringing my Grim Series to vibrant life as audiobooks—my readers adore your voice work and I do, too. To my agent, Stephany Evans of Ayesha Pande Literary. Your encouragement helped more than you know during an especially challenging year. To Melody Guy for once again helping me sharpen my focus and tighten my prose. And to Sharon Stogner of Devil in the Details Editing for her fearless re
AUTHOR’S NOTE Let me say up front that I do not speak the Welsh language. My beloved grandmother did so fluently, but I didn’t think to ask her to teach me. (I was too young and too interested in other things. Like her faery stories!) So the Welsh words that I use, while carefully and lovingly researched, are not guaranteed to be accurate. And the fae languages in my books are only very loosely based on Welsh. In response to reader requests for meanings and interpretations of some of the terms used in the Grim Series books, a glossary is being put together for my website. Watch for it at www.daniharper.com.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Legend, lore, love, and magic. These are the hallmarks of Dani Harper’s transformational tales of faeries, shapeshifters, ghosts, and more—for a mature audience. A former newspaper editor, Dani’s passion for all things supernatural led her to a second career writing fiction. A longtime resident of the Canadian north and southeastern Alaska, she now lives in rural Washington with her retired mountain-man husband. Together they do battle with runaway garden gnomes, rampant fruit trees, and a roving herd of predatory chickens. Dani Harper is the author of Storm Crossed, Storm Warned, Storm Bound, and Storm Warrior (the Grim Series), as well as First Bite (a Dark Wolf novel) for Montlake Romance. She is also the author of a yuletide ghost story, The Holiday Spirit, plus a popular shapeshifter series that includes Changeling Moon, Changeling Dream, and Changeling Dawn. Visit her website at www.daniharper.com.
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