To My Husband,

You’re my rock, my soul mate, everything and all I will ever need in this life. I’m so happy and lucky to have met you, but even luckier to call you mine forever. I love you so much.

Fantasy Romance – A Castre World Novel Standalones

Piercing Jordie

Mitering Avalee

Forging Calida

Uplifting Irie

Braving Eavan

Warring Devan

Hunting Megan

Shifting Aramoren – A Castre World Short Story

Anchoring Nola – A Castre World Short Story

A Bayonet Books Anthology

Storming Area 51 — Stalking Death

Slay Bells Ring — Stocking Gryla

Clean & Sweet Western Romance – Whitman Series Romances

To Find A Whitman

To Love A Thief

To Save A Life

To Lift A Darkness

To Veil A Fondness

To Bind A Heart

To Hide A Treasure

To Want A Change

To Form A Romance

Slow Burn Paranormal Romance – Dangerous Ties Series

Opening Danger

Hunting Danger

Burning Danger

Year of Corwaithe 1239

The stars were brighter under the Orthilioan sky. Although, they seemed lonelier, like a piece of their soul happened to be missing. Or maybe it was just her.

Megan inhaled the distinct scent of sandalwood and jasmine in the night air. Plucking a flower out of a potted plant, she twirled it in her fingers. The lush petals brushed against her fingertips. The giant fountain gurgling behind the Orthilioan castle brought a wan smile to her face.

There was a different kind of peacefulness here she enjoyed. And the desert heat was a nice change from the rain back home. She loved coming to Orthilio to see Eavan, her eldest sister, and her new baby, Farid. Eavan’s husband, King Rais, always welcomed her with open arms. Megan didn’t think Orthilio would ever feel as much like home as Clouneder in Meerdora did. But Rais and Eavan made it comfortable, especially now with their babe. The happy child, with a constant smile on his mischievous face, reminded her so much of growing up with her sisters.

Megan smiled, remembering all of Eavan’s most defiant moments. Her sheep business was one of them. Their stepmother, Vevina, forbade Eavan to even undertake such a task. Eavan’s lips had quirked at the corners, and eyes laced with defiance, she’d done it anyway. As her middle sister, Devan, in learning how to battle and spar. Devan laughed, eyes flashing with the notorious Meerdoran tenacity and bested men on the training grounds.

Megan sighed, leaning up against the stone, mindlessly twirling the purple iris in her hands. She wanted a family like both her sisters had. However, it did not seem forthcoming to her. Vevina told her it would come in time, and Corwaithe would make it be an instantaneous connection of love, because that was how the goddess worked. It was how it had been for her, same as Eavan and Rais.

As a priest of the goddess once said - Corwaithe doesn’t like for love to wait, to bloom like a flower over time; when two perfect souls meet, forever should begin now. Megan hoped to have the same instant connection with the man she was meant to be with.

Yet, she was out here, and alone under the watchful, glowing gaze of the stars. Megan cupped the flower in her hand. She would take the love given to her, whether it was instant or bloomed slowly like a flower. In the end, she wanted to be loved, to have someone to share her life with, and a family. She wanted what Corwaithe promised all her people - a bonded soulmate to have into eternity.

She had said no to a handful of men vying for her hand—men like Kerry MacKerwin of Earnswey – he was silly and tried too hard. She was holding out for the promised love, the forever kind where a heart calls for another, where there is a powerful, unexpected rush of air to the body, quaking limbs, and a fast heartbeat. Now, she felt foolish as if waiting for the wrong reasons led her to her current mood.

“Megan,” Eavan called. “What are you doing out here? We are gathered in the sunroom for dessert.”

Her other sister came out with a sleeping Farid in her arms. “Aye,” Devan added. “It’s yer favorite too—crema catalana.”

Megan smiled. “I’m thinkin’ about how Farid is so much like Eavan.”

Eavan scowled. “How so?”

“Ye make the same faces,” Devan laughed.

“And yer very stubborn,” Megan added.

“No more stubborn than you,” Devan’s husband, Haris, said, kissing his wife on the cheek. “You’re more stubborn than the annoying dragons.”

Devan’s jaw dropped. “Go live with them then!” she teased back.

Eavan snorted, taking her baby from her sister as Haris’s thundering laugh echoed over the stillness. Megan held out her arms for Farid, and Eavan placed the sleeping boy in them. Farid’s mop of short black hair stuck out all over like Rais’s. Megan stroked his cheek, his soft caramel skin warm to her touch. Eavan tucked the blanket under Farid’s chin. Megan smiled, holding the babe close.

“He’s so perfect,” Megan commented.

Eavan held out her hands. “I need to put him to bed.”

Megan passed her nephew back, smiling wanly as she did so. Devan wrapped an arm around her, following the party back inside, but detouring to the sunroom where the delicious cinnamon and caramelized sugar scent of dessert wafted to her nose. Her stomach rumbled excitedly. She sat on a red-cushioned chair, impatiently waiting for Eavan and Rais to come back. Her stomach rumbled again, garnering the attention of Rais’s mother, Flora, and Vevina.

“Heaven’s child, don’t perish,” Flora joked. “Eat.”

Megan snagged the one with the most caramelized sugar on top, eagerly digging in. Haris offered Devan one; she refused, expressing how her stubbornness dictated her too. Haris snorted, eating his while Devan’s perched readily in his lap. Megan scooted carefully over to Haris, grinning childishly as she did. Without him noticing, she took the one on his lap, turning away from him to stare out the open, paneless window.

“Give it back, Megan,” Haris growled. “I don’t get these all the time.”

Megan hunched over. “I dinna either!”

Flora rolled her eyes, sighing exasperatedly as only a mother could do. “Children, I had a dozen more made to go home with you.”

“I get seven!” Haris argued.

Megan whipped around, spoon in her mouth. “Why?”

“You’re eating that one.”

Megan shrugged, taking a bite in front of him with a smile. Her family laughed. It was moments like this her heart treasured most. She loved the closeness, how everyone bonded. She loved the security her family provided. Eavan, always the biggest and bravest protector, made certain when she married Rais, she and Devan would have peaceful ties between nations. And now, with Devan married to Rais’s cousin, Haris made certain she and Devan were guarded even when walking in the garden. Her family was her refuge, her love, and her happiness.

Rais walked in with a game and pieces in his hands, challenging anyone who dared to a game of chess. Megan raised her hand, accepting the challenge. She was determined to beat him this time. Her family gathered around to offer advice on how to beat the undefeated, self-proclaimed master. With a grin, she moved her pawn. Rais made disapproving sounds. Megan laughed, moving her knight out. Rais cracked his knuckles.

Megan moved her pawn on her next move, then her bishop. All of which she somehow lost. Grumbling, she moved her rook. She lost that too.

“Check mate,” Rais said triumphantly.

She’d lasted longer than she assumed, but still lost. With her defeat, she bid everyone good night. Devan did as well, joining her outside the sunroom in the hallway. Together, they waited for Haris and Rais to finish conversing, each vowing to see each other in a few days.

Haris grabbed the tray of crema catalana, handing it to Devan. Megan linked her arm with her sister as Devan held onto Haris. With a final goodbye, Haris’s magic, blue-white fire, whipped from his hands and swirled around them in a confined cyclone. With a pop and a bright burst of magic, they landed inside the darkened Clouneder keep.

Megan ambled her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Giggling from her sister echoed through the castle as Haris’s thundering voice told her to quiet down. Megan shut the door, helping to drown out their noise. She wanted to know what it would be like – to be loved fully, to make love late into the night.

Megan closed her eyes, leaning against the door. I want a forever love, instantaneous and remarkable. I want what Corwaithe promised. My sisters are so lucky. Maybe someday I will be lucky too.

Stepping farther into her room, she sleepily crawled into bed with a tired smile on her face. Her family was everything to her, and in a few days, they would do this all over again.

Faolan stared at the stained canvas ceiling of his tent. Hands behind his head, sleep eluded him. It seemed more likely sleep avoided him as much as he did it. Each time he closed his eyes, he pictured his wife, Krista. The painful memory of losing her last year haunted him in the lonely hours of the night.

Rarely was sleep able to effortlessly claim him. And tonight, was not one of those moments. Outside, the rustling of the men resonated through their camp. Cook fires being doused with water hissed with complaints. Soft whickering of sleeping horses made him envious. The metal of armor clanged together and Faolan groaned.

He ran his hands over his face, wishing sleep would claim him for a few moments. His mind wandered to Krista, wondering how the babe she carried would have looked, how old it would have been now. Closing his eyes, he pictured Krista’s sweet oval face and the vibrancy of her blue eyes. How she woke in the morning with a smile and brushed his hair off his face. How he would help her to get up, because her rounding belly made it difficult.

The life he’d thought he’d found with his wife, he cherished more now than he did before. The love he’d found with her, he knew he couldn’t ever find it again.

The lying, sneaking fox shifter—who he’d once saved, and who owed him a favor—refused to save Krista when the goddess called her home. Now, he would walk this life alone. Faolan wanted a family. He wanted a wife, children, and a home. The life he desired was stripped, taken, and beaten from him by the hands of the one he was forced to serve.

Rapping came from outside the tent. The shadows dancing on the tent walls spoke of the man whom he would be seeing.

“Faolan,” Morgear called. “I need to speak with my best hunter.”

Groaning, Faolan rose, moving the blanket off his body. He stretched, taking his sweet time to answer the man he was forced to call king. The same man who’d forced his hand into servitude through an Orthilioan Blood Pact – a damnable, lifetime binding promise. And because Faolan had originally refused this monster, Morgear had taken his wife, slitting her throat in front of him. While Krista lay on the cold ground, dying helplessly, he was bound to Morgear.

Faolan loathed the man more than he ever disliked a being in his life. Morgear took everything from him in one fell swoop. Then, when it felt like the man could crush him no farther, Morgear had made an Orthilioan perform the Blood Pact on him, binding him to Morgear for three tasks. Or until Morgear died. Until that day, Faolan was his.

Whatever this man wanted, Faolan prayed it was his final task so he could live alone in the cottage he had made for Krista and himself. Nothing would ever bring Krista back. However, the home he had built them would still smell like her sweet honeysuckle scent. Faolan closed his eyes, a wan smile creasing his lips. She’d woken with the dawn each morning and picked the flowers he planted for her.

Faolan ran a hand over his face, wiping the dulcet memories clear to cherish at a different time. He shoved his tired feet in his boots grumpily. The memories of his wife would be all he would ever have once his tasks were completed, and Faolan clung to the handful of good memories with her. He could not kill himself, for the Blood Pact forbade it. Nor could he raise a blade against Morgear. Though that bastard’s day of reckoning would come with his final task completed.

He cracked his neck and his knuckles, tying the laces of his boots. Once that task was done, he would kill Morgear and go live in the cottage. Until then, he was stuck here by his master’s side.

“Faolan!” Morgear hollered.

“Yeah!” he responded, rising off the bed.

Faolan thrust back the tent flap. Morgear leered at him, putting out a hand. Faolan put his hands on his hips, straightening his back.

“It is time,” Morgear stated, putting his hand at his side while his gaze went north. “Don’t you think?”

Faolan crossed his arms. “Is this my final task?”

Morgear laughed, patting him on the back. “If my quarry is inside, then yes.”

“Then it is time.”

A thunderous, constant banging reached her ears. Screaming entered into the fray of noise. Strands of light flashed through her chamber window. Scrunching her eyes and groaning, she rolled over on her back. Someone came inside her room, yelling her name. The banging noise persisted. Megan wiped her eyes.

Ugh Devan, she thought, ye crazed lass.

“Megan, wake up!” Devan shouted, the panic in her voice catching her attention as something clattered in a chair.

Devan ripped the blankets off her. Megan sprang up, turning an angry head at Devan. Megan went to retort when a traveling cloak and a scarf punched her in the face.

“We’re under attack,” her sister said urgently, packing her belongings into a bag. “Ye need to leave here right now! Yer goin’ to ride Merit and go to our sister and mum in Orthilio! Or anywhere for that matter.”

Megan sat up. “Leave? But why? I can stay here with ye and help.”

Devan growled in frustration. Megan jumped out of bed, dressing quickly. Her hands fumbled with the stays on her dress. She pulled her tall winter boots on and threw the cloak on last along with a scarf. The crackling of fire echoed from inside her chamber. The threatening orange glow prickled her skin, churning her stomach in knots.

“Devan,” Megan began.

Devan turned to her, her eyes wide and frightened. The fear of not surviving, of losing Megan, danced behind her sister’s sharp green eyes. Megan picked up the satchel Devan made for her and threw it over her shoulder.

Megan didn’t want to leave on Merit. She disliked horses, and especially Devan’s overly spirited animal. Hopefully, the blasted horse would take her to Orthilio where Eavan resided or at least to the nearest clan. Her hands shook as she gripped the satchel tighter. There was no way she could ride and get out of Clouneder alive. She wasn’t brave. Nor was she skilled at horsemanship or weaponry like her sisters. She would be dead before daybreak.

The conquering flashes of light from outside caught her attention. Her ears were numbed to the noise as her thundering heart was all she could hear. Fear made her skin prickle as her legs remained stuck to the floor. Megan licked her lips, biting her bottom one hard enough to snap her back to the moment.

I canna do this, she thought

“If I die, yer the last leader, Megan. Yer the last one who can get help for us,” Devan told her as she filled another traveling pack, throwing in an assortment of garments and a sack of coins. “Ye canna go with our people in case they get caught. One might sell ye out. Merit will protect ye. He will keep ye safe,” she said as she finished packing and thrusting the bag to her.

Devan pulled her over to the bed where they sat momentarily. Megan could feel the shake in Devan’s hands, the uncertainty waver in her voice. Megan smiled wanly, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze.

Devan licked her lips “It will be alright. Ye need to go to Flowermoss. They will take ye to Eavan.”

Devan gave her sister a peck on the cheek. Megan shook from an icy chill running down her spine. She would be riding Merit. She didn’t like horses, never had, and didn’t care to ride this particular one. The only horse she liked was her lumbering nag, because it didn’t move much. Devan stood quickly, going over to the window. Megan followed, standing behind her and looking out for the first time.

The night sky was alive with swirling plumes of thick smoke. Orange flames consumed everything in their wake as dark black-gray smoke rose to the heavens, blanketing the sky with terror. Dying screams of her people sent shivers down her spine. Her clansmen crying out as death greeted them with cold steel kisses through their bodies.

Megan covered her mouth with her hands. Tears trickled down her face. I’m no’ goin’ to make it, she thought. There’s no way I can make it out.

The east wall was destroyed, laying in pieces, like a toddler’s crushed bread crumbs. Dead bodies of Meerdorans lay woefully under the stone pieces. Horses whinnied and reared, trying to escape the sickening chaos and burning buildings. Men with long spears and helms ran after her people. She didn’t know who they were as there was peace amongst all the Meerdoran clans. Battle cries from the aggressors reached her ears as the cries of her people dying rose above theirs. Megan wished she could look away from the catastrophe, but her eyes were rapt to the scene.

There was no way she could escape through the mass of the swarming invaders. It would be like a mouse trying to escape from a horde of cats.

“Ye have to go, Meg,” Devan whispered.

Megan shook her head, a response of no barely slipping past her lips. She was riveted to the window, shaking like a leaf in a storm. Megan saw her brother-in-law Haris fighting back-to-back with another man. He was surrounded by men she had never seen before, flying banners of a severed pig’s head on a spike. Whoever these people were, they’d come for a reason.

Other groups of Meerdoran men were fighting back, pushing the invaders back from the castle itself. Megan glanced back at her sister standing by the door. Megan’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head. She couldn’t leave. She would die!

“Ye have to go now,” Devan called to her.

Megan stumbled as she found her legs. She moved only slightly, still fearful of leaving and never seeing Devan again. Megan planted her feet.

“Ye need to leave!” Devan ordered.

Megan stood there like a stone, tears falling down her cheeks. “I dinna know where to go. I canna do this.”

Devan embraced her. “It will be alright. Bein’ alive is better than dead.”

Devan grabbed her hand and ran out the chamber door. Together, they flew down the stairs two at a time. Devan dragged her as they ran for the kitchen, making their way through the huddled serving women. Devan paused by the door going outside. There were three buildings between them and the stables. The blacksmith’s building was on fire. The consuming, bursting flames were spreading to the butchery.

Megan looked all around in panicked wonder as her whole life came crumbling down or bursting into flames. She didn’t want to move from her spot. The searing contact of her sister’s hand on her arm was the only thing keeping her grounded. All around, people ran with either water buckets or weapons. Devan gripped her hand and made her move. Devan had her running straight for the stable doors.

Her sister let go of Megan’s hand, pushing the doors open wide. Megan stood there, tears streaming down her face, as Devan boldly ran to the frightened horses in the stalls, taking tack with her as she went. Megan watched in dumbfounded horror as people were carelessly slain in front of her. She backed away, into the stables. Devan came rushing out with a saddled Merit and practically threw Megan on. Megan settled herself in the seat, shakily grabbing at the reins forced in her hands.

Salty water streaked down her cheeks. I canna do this.

“I love ye, Megan,” Devan said. “Be safe. Dinna stop ridin’ until the sun rises. Put the castle at yer back and the sun at yer face.”

Megan started to cry harder. “I canna leave. I dinna want to leave ye behind.”

“Ye must, Megan!” Devan spanked Merit into a run.

Before she could issue a response, Merit sprinted forward. Megan bounced unhappily in the saddle as Merit took off at a gallop. Sure-footed, the beast ran past the dead bodies of her clans-people and those of the enemies, weaving between those alive to spar against the invaders to defend her home. A few times, Megan was almost thrown from the saddle or pulled down by a battle-painted enemy. Megan held onto Merit for dear life, praying as he galloped that she and her sister would live to see the light of day.

Merit came to the iron gates of Clouneder and the last gate was shut. The man who was in control of the switch was hanging dead from the wall, several arrows in his gut. Megan got ready to dismount and run up the stairs to release the switch. Merit began to dance in place, keeping her jostled and unable to move. Merit’s head started glowing red. Splitting out from the top of his skull came a long, spiral red horn.

The horse reared, and Megan cried out, grabbing tighter to the reins for purchase. Merit dipped his head, striking the horn against the iron blockade. The iron gate bubbled, melting away. Merit ran through the opening, taking her east and away from the destruction of Clouneder.

Megan glanced over her shoulder. Tears came streaming out of her eyes as the powerful legs of Merit took her far away from her home and Devan.

Megan made Merit stop on a large grassy knoll east of the castle. The screams of the people, the clash of metal, and the thumping of weapons, piercing bodies reached her ears even from being as far away as she was. She closed her eyes, praying relentlessly to Corwaithe to keep Devan alive. Mayhap Megan should have prayed for Haris as well, but she assumed Corwaithe would know he was automatically included.

Upon her hill, she saw bodies falling dead to the winter ground. She was far enough away to make an escape if necessary but close enough to see the men fighting. Although, she could not make out faces. Megan adjusted herself in the saddle.

Merit turned to look at her, his ebony eyes holding grief and pain. He looked as distraught as she did. Merit, a unique beast being half unicorn, purchased by her father Loefel, was the prized possession of Devan, and no one rode it but her. With Devan lost to the battle, alive or dead, Merit was all she would have left of her sister. The horn on his head was gone, whickering softly.

The wind whipped coldly around her, but she didn’t notice. Megan was numbed. In one night, she had no one. Last night with her family seemed so perfect like nothing could ever happen. Now, her home, her family, was obliterated. The home where she grew up with Vevina and her sisters, with laughter and love, was destroyed. Megan wiped her eyes. Everything was gone.

Memories flooded her mind as she gazed upon her burning home. Summer days spent at the lake behind their home, feet splashing in the water, poorly made flower crowns gracing their heads. Their constant laughter echoing off the pond and all around the castle. Devan’s childish pranks of bringing frogs into their chamber while Vevina screamed in terror. Winter nights curled up in Vevina’s lap as she retold tales from the God War long into the night. Decorating the keep for holidays and special events would be no more.

Her face split with a drawn smile. Megan’s heart constricted. In one night, all she loved, held secure and safe, was stripped from her. She had no idea as to whom the people were or why they were there. Why attack Clouneder of all places? It made no sense to her. Megan wiped her cheeks.

Merit stomped a hoof impatiently, apparently wanting to be back on the road to safety. Megan could not make herself move. She was waiting, waiting for Devan to magically appear. Waiting for an Orthilioan to bring Devan to her so they could ride to Flowermoss or Wendren or somewhere, together. She didn’t want to be alone.

I canna do this, she silently repeated. Come on, Devan. I need ye. Dinna leave me.

Megan closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. She looked behind her, trying to figure out where she would land if she rode in a straight line. What village or place of safety would she arrive at first? Would those people even help her? Megan licked her lips, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Neither Devan nor Haris came. Please Corwaithe, please, please, please let my sister come. Come on, Devan. I dinna want to lose ye.

She waited longer than she should have as the invading men began adjusting their positions. Without a doubt, she knew those men saw her. Merit snorted, whinnying impatiently for her to move.

Megan dismounted, clutching the reins, wringing them in her hands. The moon was fading slowly to rest in the west. A high-pitched, heart-wrenching wail came from the castle. Tears coursed their way down her cheeks. Megan sobbed uncontrollably, understanding by the heart-shattering wail, Haris was dead. Megan bawled for her sister, collapsing to the ground. The sounds of battle split the air. Not even the morning birds chirped. Not even the sheep mewled, as they woke from slumber. Megan continued to watch the castle for activity.

Merit nudged her with his nose, but Megan didn’t care. Merit stomped the ground, rearing up on his legs. Megan finally looked to her right. A man came barreling on horseback at her. Her heart raced, and her hands became icy. Merit lowered himself on the ground as Megan unskillfully hopped on his back. The horse waited long enough for her to guide her boots into the stirrups.

Her heart was in her throat. She could no longer wait for Devan to come be with her, to see if her sister made it. With the way the battle went, she was certain she’d lost her family. Tears coursed down her cheeks, her chest burning in pain as she left her family to die.

“Go, Merit,” Megan urged.

The horse took off, galloping across the Meerdoran valley. Hills and a small valley disappeared under his thundering hooves. The Black Forest came into view, and Megan told Merit to bolt for it. She looked down at Merit, frothing at the mouth and sweat matting his hide. Megan glanced behind her and sighed. The man was gone.

The sun beat down on her head. Black clouds swirled in the distance. The sun was high in the sky, and she had successfully eluded her possible captor. Her heart calmed slightly. Every fiber in her body screamed for her to hide, to rest, and wait until darkness to move again. Her body could not stop shaking nor could her eyes cease their watering.

I have to hide, she thought, facing the forest.

Megan glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see her sister coming after her. But Devan wasn’t there, but neither was the man on horseback. She realized her sister would not be coming. Megan hiccupped, swallowing down another torrent of sobs, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. Merit grumbled, forcing her to look ahead. She licked her lips, deciding to hide somewhere in the Black Forest. She couldn’t outrun anyone being unskilled at riding. She would be caught in a matter of moments in the open. Hiding was the logical answer.

Terror prickled her skin as she glanced behind her again. The rider nor Devan greeted her expectant, watchful gaze. Taking a deep breath, she dismounted, wringing the reins in her hands. Her boots crunched the dead leaves and twigs under her feet. Peering in through the thick vegetation, she understood why it was called the Black Forest. Her stomach roiled with her hesitation.

“Go,” she whispered to herself.

A sense of foreboding entered her body. Megan related the feeling to the name of the forest. It was dark inside from the thick overgrown vegetation crowding together for sunlight. Moss hung like shaggy beards from trees. Wet, rotting leaves stung her sniffling nose with their crispness. Megan shook from the feeling the Black Forest gave her.

Devan told her to ride, to not stop until she reached Flowermoss castle. However, everything in her told her to hide. She was going in that forest. She was going to hide. And she was going to survive.

Megan glanced over her shoulder again. It seemed, at the moment, her follower was gone; she’d beat him to an uncertain sanctuary.

Merit tossed his mighty head, not wanting to go farther. He grunted, stomping his hooves, pulling at the reins in her hands. Merit snorted, tugging at her to hop back on and continue the journey. Megan would not be moved. She loathed riding the edgy beast.

“No, Merit,” she said firmly. “I’m no’ goin’. We’re safe now.”

Merit sniffed, lowering his head to meet her gaze.

“I know ye dinna like me. The feelin’ is mutual, but I’m scared, and I dinna want to go anymore. I want to hide,” she finished with a sniffle.

Merit flattened his ears, staring at her with wide eyes. The horse blew his lips at her, showing his teeth. His nose met her shoulder, nudging her to go inside the forest. Megan undid the girth on the saddle, dropping it where they were, and she took off the pack of clothes and the pack of coins. With cautious footsteps and a long sigh, she entered the Black Forest with Merit clopping along behind her.

“Feel better without the saddle?” Megan asked.

Merit tossed his head.

“I bet ye would. It’s a cumbersome thing,” she said, moving branches out of her way.

Her heart raced as if it were on fire. She turned around, not four steps into the forest. With shaking hands, she removed the bridle from Merit. Megan closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, before turning back around.

With a fixed, determined stare, she went forward. Her hands still shook as she clutched the hem of her dress. The pack on her arms continually swung forward, annoying her movements through the vegetation. She groaned and grunted, unaccustomed to the greenery slapping her face or maneuvering around decaying, fallen trees and roots reaching for purchase. Megan frequently nibbled on her bottom lip.

Merit moved quietly with her. She glanced over her shoulder to see his ears were back, and his tail swooshed. In all, the horse seemed pissed. Still, the loyal beast followed her. Branches swatted her in the face. She touched the spot and found swollen marks raised on her skin.

Branches broke to her right. Megan paused, looking wide-eyed at her sister’s horse. Merit perked his ears forward, then back, dismissing the sound. Merit moved around a tree, standing beside her.

“I wilna ride ye.”

Merit knelt on the ground.

Megan scowled. “I wilna do it! Yer free to go if ye so please, but I’m stayin’ in here where it’s somewhat safe.”

Merit closed his eyes, moving back behind her.

Megan glowered as she kept moving. Her feet slipped on the wet, molding leaves. She reached out, grabbing onto the mossy trunks of some trees, steadying herself. She peered up to the tops of the trees, spying the faint trickle of light and clouds. The forest was so copious, all she saw were birds and the filtered light of Castre through the leaves and branches. Tall firs made their mightiness known, overgrowing and outlasting the smaller leafy trees left in their shadow. Prickling bushes snagged at her clothes, making the passage more obstructive than she’d imagined.

She sniffed, trudging through the brush. Every so often, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone followed. Her heart thundered, provoking images of a person following her every step. Megan quickened her pace, focusing on what lay ahead. More light sorted its way through the cracks and seemed to open up in the middle of the woods. Megan wanted to run for it, gleefully, happy to have found shelter and a place to rest. However, she stopped her feet from running to the opening. Hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Megan continued her path, taking wary, careful steps toward the sunlight and what may be lurking in the open. Like a deer, she moved stealthily. She scanned everywhere at once for anyone or anything lying in wait for her. She peeked over her shoulder again, hunching down in case someone followed. Her heart raced. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and like the deer, she froze, coming to the opening in the middle of the Black Forest.

A beautiful wildflower meadow rested tranquilly before her with poppies, Black-Eyed Susan’s, irises, roses, loosestrife, and random bushes of hydrangeas. All were randomly planted, creating a gorgeous, surreal painting of vivid color. The aroma was sweeter than sugar buns baking in an oven. Megan closed her eyes, inhaling deeply the unique scent. How this was even possible in winter, she knew not. Flowers should not bloom for another three, maybe four months, but there they were.

She walked carefully out into the meadow, blocking the glaring sunlight with one hand. Merit walked beside her with a pep in his once trudging step. Merit took off at a gallop, running through all the wildflowers, tossing his mane. The horse bucked and whinnied with delight.

Megan ran toward him, her emotions battling between joy from being alive and sorrow for her loved ones who didn’t make it. An icy chill crept down her spine. Her ears strained for any foreign sounds. Megan swallowed hard at the dryness in her throat.

Pausing, she stared back into the forest. Her body shook, feeling cornered. Her blood pumped vigorously, throbbing in her head as her hands glistened with sweat. Megan grabbed at her dress, moving the fabric around to dry her hands.

“Move,” she warned herself, her own voice shaking and distant. “Ye need to move.”

She looked south. A small cottage was at the edge of the clearing. Merit stopped frolicking, gazing down there with her. Merit got in front of her, making his way to the cottage. Megan crossed her fingers, her heart racing. Merit stopped. Turning, he whinnied at her. Thunder cracked overhead. Her breath came in short gasps. Bolting through the flowers, she made for the safety of the lodge.

Faolan stayed at the back of the fighting force, not truly wanting to be involved. Men swarmed around him, waiting for orders, which he gave grudgingly. Fires blazed to break the winter chill. His eyes focused on the task at hand, hoping this truly would be his last.

Without looking up, he heard the wall of Clouneder crumble. Screams of dying men reached his ears. The crunching of bodies falling from the castle wall echoed in his head. The sickening crash of their armor haunted his ears like a necklace being carelessly dropped on stone. Smoke suffocated the air around him with the burning of homes and bodies.

Sighing, Faolan looked up. Morgear’s men ran viciously inside the fallen castle wall. The Meerdoran’s tried futilely to defend their home. However, his men were rapidly overpowering them. It all would be over in a matter of hours. More than likely, before dawn even broke in the sky.

Faolan stood outside of his tent, watching intently as villagers poured themselves into the castle. Each helpless Meerdoran rushed inside to safety. He shook his head, calling them fools. Morgear would slay them all when given the chance. With an annoyed breath, he went back into his tent.

Morgear wanted a plan to overtake Rowanoake. Faolan had cautioned the warlord against it, saying to hold tight to this castle first. No need to spread warriors and defenses if it could be helped. Morgear laughed in his face.

With a plan in hand, Faolan strode out of his tent, walking purposefully to where Morgear’s head captain was. Jaw clenched, he approached the man. Yaron turned around, smiling smugly at him with his hand out. He slammed the plan into Yaron’s hand, walking away.

“Faolan, old friend,” Yaron hissed. “Morgear wants to see you now.”

“I’m busy,” he stated coldly, facing the battle.

Yaron grabbed his arm. Faolan turned, punching the man in the jaw. Yaron tumbled to the frozen ground like a sack of bricks, loud and useless. Yaron got up, tackling him to the ground. Faolan landed flat on his back, punching the unruly and unscrupulous captain in the head repeatedly.

“Faolan! Yaron!” Morgear roared, coming out of his tent.

Faolan let go of the captain. He stood, brushing the frozen, dead hay off his armor, glaring under lidded eyes at the king and captain.

“Faolan.” Morgear smiled. “Just who I wanted to see.”

Faolan withheld his groan, instead glared daggers at the warlord. Morgear strode forward, grinning like a cat with a dead mouse. Faolan sneered slightly, his eyes narrowed as his lip curled. Faolan, caught inside of the castle grounds out of the corner of his eye. He paused, looking at the fallen castle of Clouneder. The smithy was on fire, as was the stables. A woman with red hair urged another woman with brown onto the back of a black horse.

Morgear smiled as he put an arm around Faolan’s shoulders. Faolan removed Morgear’s arm, watching the woman take off on horseback. She bounced in her seat, her body jolting in different directions. Faolan breathed out amused.

Morgear pointed a finger at her, smiling. “Ah, there is the quarry.”

Faolan didn’t reply.

“Despise me that much, do you?” Morgear chuckled.

“You know I do,” Faolan replied.

Morgear put an arm around him again. “I like you,” Morgear stated. “Where Yaron here is a kiss ass, you actually hate me. I love it.”

“What do you want?” Faolan growled.

“Simple, I—”

“Nothing with you is ever simple,” he interrupted.

Morgear grinned. “Oh, my dear boy, it is. Find that girl and bring her to me. I believe the woman who left is whom I seek, and I want her.”

Faolan laughed. “No.”

Morgear turned, holding a dagger to his throat. Faolan smiled back, pressing his neck into the blade. He felt a small amount of warm blood trickle down.

“Go ahead,” Faolan urged. “Do it.”

“You are the best hunter and tracker in Castre. You will find her.”

Faolan chuckled. “Then what?”

“Sources tell me of Eavan, Devan, and Megan Liberone, daughters of former King Loefel Liberone and Suzan.” Morgear paused, watching the girl almost get pulled off her horse. “Suzan, as you know, was my wife. She left me for Loefel.”

“An upgrade in her case.”

Morgear growled. “I want her. I believe that woman is one of the sisters. Bring her back – alive – and I’ll release you from your Blood Pact. I command it.”

Faolan worked his jaw back and forth.

Morgear patted his shoulder. “Oh, and remember, if you don’t, with a few words, you will die instantly. I have never seen it done, so your death would be a learning lesson to us both. I had that Orthilioan add it in.” Morgear patted his cheek. “Just in case I needed to keep you around for a while longer.”

Faolan watched as the King of the Borderlands took a knife and slit open his hand. Blood pooled to the middle. The Blood Pact required blood for blood, sealing the final task and promise of freedom. Faolan took the blade from Morgear, slicing open his own hand. He shook Morgear’s hand.

His hand healed, blue-white fire of Orthilio rising off like misting fog, sealing the task binding him to Morgear. If all he had to do was bring this woman back, then it would be easy and quick enough. He hadn’t a clue as to what might happen if the task was left uncompleted, however he wasn’t going to find out.

Faolan brushed off Morgear, striding back to his small tent on a hill. His final task was finally at hand. He glanced over his shoulder to see a smiling Morgear nodding his head. Faolan opened the flap to his tent, going inside to pack.

The flap to his tent opened, though he didn’t care to see who it was. Faolan continued to pack. This trip would be a quick one. Someone of import had already left on a horse and was more than likely heading east.

Faolan smiled. It wouldn’t take him long at all, then his Blood Pact would release him. Or if he got lucky, someone would come and kill Morgear. Faolan glowered, if only he was ever that lucky.

A few hours from now, he would be released and headed to his cottage to live out his days. He stuffed another pair of trews into his pack. He grabbed his arrows, slinging them over his other shoulder.

“Faolan,” Yaron said, “leaving amidst the battle?”

“It is already won,” he replied, shoving past him and out of the tent.

Light was waking the Castren sky. A haunting female scream sounded from the castle. Faolan ignored it, knowing it was a wife who lost her husband. Her wailing would not save her; his certainly didn’t save Krista.

Faolan grumbled, going twenty paces to his large horse. The Formelkan Draft, Destry, lowered her head in greeting. Faolan patted her as he asked Destry to kneel. The horse obeyed. Faolan jumped on bareback, taking a tuft of hair in one hand.

Yaron stood below him, scowling.

“Yes?” Faolan snarled.

Yaron grabbed his foot and squeezed. Faolan smiled wolfishly.

“You and I will have our day,” Yaron growled through clenched teeth.

“Looking forward to it.”

Faolan clicked his heels, moving Destry forward. The large mare turned in a circle toward the east. He clucked his tongue, squeezing his legs, forcing Destry into a trot. Faolan peeked behind him. The last of the people were being gutted, and added to a large, constantly growing pile of dead. Faolan looked ahead.

The morning air was crisp, much better than the choking smoke behind him. He crested a hill, scanning the area for the lone girl on horseback. He paused, shielding his eyes against the luminous, rising sun.

The woman stood next to her horse not a mile from him, maybe less. She watched Clouneder intently. The horse tossed its head. The horse would see him before she ever would. He smiled at his prey. She hadn’t made it very far, as he knew a woman wouldn’t. They always had to stop and watch.

“Gotcha,” he whispered. “Not hard at all.”

Faolan took off at a gallop after her. He urged Destry on, begging her for a quick capture. Faolan took a rope from the belt loop on his person. Quickly, he tied a lasso, smiling as he got closer to the woman. Her horse must have seen him, for it reared. She got on its back, taking off east.

“Shit!”

He knew she hadn’t seen him, not that quickly. Her horse was more alert than she was. The beast took off like it was being chased by creatures in the abyss. It flew across the Meerdoran landscape, and his Destry had trouble keeping up. The black animal was quick, veering south to the Black Forest.

Faolan reined Destry. “Smart girl,” he said.

Destry shook her massive peach-colored head.

“We’ll catch her, and when we are done, we shall be free, my friend.”

Faolan walked Destry, following his prey quietly, giving the woman a false sense of security. It wouldn’t be long until he had her. He came to the top of the last hill. This part of Meerdora became a flat landscape from here until Flowermoss. Faolan stood on the hill, watching her as she hesitated to walk inside. Her intelligent horse tried to get her to hop back on, to ride away. The woman would not be dissuaded. Faolan smiled.

With a bold step, she entered the Black Forest. It wouldn’t be long until he followed.

Thunder cracked over Megan’s head. She covered her ears at the brashness. She never liked thunder. It made too much noise. Megan glanced meekly to the sky, gauging how much time she had to gather wood and scavenge for food. The storm wanted to commence but was giving her a reprieve.

Megan approached the cottage hesitantly. Her gray eyes scanned warily at the only two glass windows. Megan drew closer. She peered through the second window. The cottage was dark, as she assumed it would be. Dust covered everything in a thick layer. The bed was below her; the kitchen on the other side. It was a small home, but it would be dry and warmer than outside.

She walked around to the door. The solid pine piece faced her. She grabbed the knob, turning it slowly until the door opened inward, creaking on its unused hinges. Megan turned and scrutinized Merit. His ears were forward and head turned to the side. His large eyes watched her intently.

“It’s empty,” she told the horse.

Megan left the door open, turning back on her heel when she walked around the cottage, looking for wood or anything of import. Lightning flashed across the sky, and she cringed. Rain poured like a waterfall over her head. Merit made for the trees for cover. Megan continued to look for wood but found nothing.

Discouraged, she went inside. A small stack of wood was by the hearth. A wooden framed bed was against the wall on the left. Hunting weapons—longbows, crossbows, and arrows—hung above the bed on the wall. Dishes in neat stacks were behind her. Megan went over to the jars on the table top, peering inside. She smelled one and choked.

“No’ that one.”

Rain sounded like a hundred beating drums on the roof. Megan looked around, rubbing her hands on her arms. She turned toward the hearth. She walked the three paces and began making a fire. In moments, the dried wood caught, filling the home with burning oak and warmth.

Megan stood, turning toward the open door. The beautiful, wildflower-filled meadow swayed in the light wind, the petals on the flowers shining brilliantly with the promise of rain. Megan closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air. Quietly, she went over and shut the door.

The fire roared with heat. Megan turned back around, hanging her cloak on a peg by the door. She threw her satchel on the floor by the bed. With a sigh, she threw the rest of her belongings next to it, the coin sack clattering on the ground. Megan looked out the window, to the rain beating down on the defenseless flowers and the wind howling through the branches of the trees.

She sat on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. Tears sprang into her eyes. The only company she had was her own and the heat of the fire. Her family was gone. Devan, Corwaithe save her, was hopefully alive somewhere. But even with that small sliver of hope, in her mind Devan was gone. Haris too. Eavan would not know where she was or how to find her.

Megan pulled her long brown hair over to the side, fiddling with the ends. She braided and unbraided the long tendrils many times, fidgeting as she tried to focus her emotions on something else.

She needed to get to Eavan and the safety her eldest sister provided. She needed to get to Vevina, so she could be wrapped in her motherly embrace. Megan wiped at her eyes, sniffling. Eavan didn’t know about the castle or about her. Megan was lost, out on her own, and left to her own devices.

Brave Devan who’d stayed behind to get her to safety. Devan put her on that blasted horse to get away quickly, knowing Merit would keep her safe. Megan could have escaped through the tunnels. It would have been smart, but if their clans-people had been discovered, they would have been lost along with herself. Devan had gambled – taken a risk – and it had paid off, for now. Megan was safe; however, she knew the safety wouldn’t last.

In one tragic day, her life, her home, and her family had been taken away. She didn’t know why, or who those people had been. The nine clans of Meerdora had peace. Laird Folermon of Swanshé was at peace with them as well, as were the other countries like Euainley and Orthilio. The battle did not make sense. Megan lay on the bed and curled in a ball as she watched the flames. Tears silently trickled down her face. She wiped at them, her heart sinking with each drop.

“I want to go home,” Megan cried.

Thunder boomed overhead, and lightning struck the ground nearby. Megan jumped, tears falling harder from her eyes. Wind howled like a pack of wolves against the windows and rattled the door. The icy chill of winter snuck under the gap, the wintry scent tingling her nose. The desolate feeling struck her further. Megan wanted to melt into the bed. She wanted to close her eyes and open them to an entirely new scene. She wanted to be home, safe in her own bed, and gazing out her own windows.

Megan wiped her eyes, getting out of bed. She pulled back the covers and sat on the edge. Morosely, she yanked off her boots and crawled inside. Megan pulled the blankets up onto her lap, leaning her head against the wooden wall.

“What am I goin’ to do?”

Megan shook her head, staring out the window next to the bed. Merit was in the trees, ears back as he looked at her. Megan turned back to the fire, staring emotionally at the flames.

“Tomorrow.” She yawned. “I need to get somewhere safer.”

Faolan tracked her down with a smirk. Based on her stomping footprints, the girl had wandered in circles. She hadn’t a clue as to which direction she was going, but he did. This woman was walking toward his cottage, the one he’d once shared with his wife.

He walked mechanically, his mind clouding over as he remembered his sweet wife and her growing belly of the child they’d made. Her honey blonde hair that would blow softly in the Swanshen sea breeze. Her dark blue eyes, that would light up when he came into the room. Faolan closed his eyes, sighing sorrowfully as leaves crunched under his feet, breaking the stillness of the winter air. Morgear had taken everything from him. Morgear had taken his world, upending it, and gleaned joy from Faolan’s sorrows.

Faolan ran a hand over his face as he walked through the brush. Destry walked doggedly behind him. The giant draft had a difficult time navigating through the forest with trees and branches so close together.

Thunder crackled overhead. Scowling, Faolan peeked at the sky. The woman was probably tucked inside his home, oblivious. The false sense of security would play into his hands perfectly. The girl probably assumed she was safe already.

Lightning struck the ground nearby. Faolan glared at the heavens, cursing the Goddess who allowed a man like Morgear to run wild, free, and unchecked. He despised Corwaithe for taking his Krista. Even now, he cursed Corwaithe’s name. Rain poured like a bucket over his head. Faolan stopped, turning to his horse. He pulled a cloak out of the pack, tying it around him.

Faolan snorted. By now, the woman was more than likely sleeping in the bed he and his wife had shared and getting her deplorable scent all over the sheets. Faolan growled deep in his throat. The cottage was all he had left of his wife. Krista had made the quilt for their bed. Krista had turned his once lonely place into a warm, loving home with her sweet, kind heart, and womanly touches. He’d done everything to give Krista the life she’d dreamed of, down to every whim and coin.

Faolan trudged toward the cottage with a renewed determination to get the current tenant out. He didn’t care if she was cold, sick, or starving, that woman was getting thrown out. He was taking her back and ending the madness binding him.

He came upon the meadow. The wildflowers were in bloom – as they always were. Years ago, he had planted magicked flowers he’d gotten in trade from Formelk for his wife as a wedding present. The seeds were magicked to bloom all year long, regardless of weather. Krista had loved her gift.

Faolan plucked a purple hydrangea, smiling. His calloused hands delicately held the soft petals. Those bushy flowers had been Krista’s favorite. Faolan smiled wanly at the flowers. A lone tear made itself known on his face. Faolan brushed it away with a flick of his finger.

He turned south, looking at the cottage he’d built for them. Smoke softly billowed from the chimney. The faint glow of firelight flickered through the windows. His heart squeezed as an icy chill ran down his spine. Thunder rolled over his head. When the thunder stilled, he stormed to his cottage.

She stared at the glass panes, seeing nothing outside but the dark skies. The fire in the hearth was low, dying embers slowly crackled. It was chilly in the cottage. Still, it was warmer inside than out. Noises filtered their way inside. Megan’s heart leapt in her throat as she did not recognize them as Merit.

She pulled the covers over her head, trapping herself under them with a pillow. Her heart raced. There was nowhere to hide and outside the cottage scared her just as much. Booted steps entered the cottage. Eyes wide, she focused on the white sheets of the bed. Her body shook, and she was unable to stop it. Megan licked her lips, silencing a whimper before it escaped.

“I know you’re in here, girl!” a man roared.

Wide-eyed, she hesitantly pulled the sheets back a little, peeking out into the room. The faint light of the fire produced shadows. The rain from outside quietly pelted the glass windows. A mountain of a man faced her as he added fuel to the fire. He stared back at her with such coldness as if he wanted to murder her for even being there.

Megan swallowed, focusing on keeping her breathing shallow and face impassive. Instead, her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes widened on their own. Megan drew the blankets off her body, bringing her knees to her chest. She moved her brown hair to the side. The man flexed his hands and his muscles bulged as he faced her. His dirty face, littered with grime and soot, keenly watched her every move, like a wolf stalking its prey. His lip curled, brows furrowed, and his jaw ticked slightly on the right. His black hair hung in his face. Beautiful cerulean eyes sparkled in the firelight, glassed over with fury.

I’m goin’ to die, she thought, licking her nervous lips. Megan let out the breath she was holding. “I’m Princess Megan Liberone,” she said suddenly, sticking out her hand. “I found this place and assumed it empty. I’m sorry.”

The man stood and growled low in his throat. Megan jumped out of bed, grabbing her boots on the floor. She looped her satchel and scarf over her arms. Her cloak was on a peg by the door, but she would have to forego it in her escape. Megan carefully shoved her coins inside her satchel.

There was something ominous about the man. It was like he knew he could hunt her down and kill her. Like he knew exactly where she would be. Could he possibly be the same man from before? Megan supposed, but she didn’t want to find out. She needed to flee and hide.

“I… I’m so very sorry. I’m leavin’ now,” she said.

The man grabbed her arm. “You’re going back to Clouneder.”

Megan swallowed hard. “Yer the one who followed me,” she whispered.

The man nodded. “I tracked you. Ironically, you found my house.”

“I’m sorry for it, but please dinna take me back.”

“As you said,” he growled, tying her hands with rope. “You’re still going back to King Morgear Midas, back to Clouneder, and that’s the end of it.”

“Is my sister alive or dead?” she asked, tears falling down her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t know,” he grouched, tying the rope tightly.

Megan gasped. “Didna ye come from there?”

He smirked. “Doesn’t mean I would know, girl.”

“Megan.”

He looked her dead in the eye. “I don’t care.”

“I wilna go with ye,” she said, scowling and planting her feet.

The man laughed, his large voice thundering in the small house, letting go of her arm. He sat on a chair on the other side of the room, looking her up and down. His blue eyes locked on hers, his leather trews creaking with his movements. She glanced at all the knives on his belt, swallowing as his left hand rested on one.

“Plannin’ on usin’ those?” she pointed and asked.

The man smiled wolfishly. “Planning on running away?”

“Aye.”

“Then yes.”

Megan blanched. “Seriously, ye would harm me?”

She backed away from him, moving closer toward the door. The man must have noticed, for he drew a knife. The metal hissing against the sheath caused Megan to cringe at the sound. Her heart pounded. It felt like she couldn’t catch her breath.

Megan moved back to the bed, sitting on it. With a deep breath, she felt her blood rush from her. This was it. She was going to be like her sister Devan – dead.

The thunder roared outside, shaking lightning from the heavens. Megan missed her sisters. She missed her home. Now this man was going to return her to it, but it wouldn’t be the same. Megan knew she was going to die once she got to Clouneder. She looked down at her feet, wondering if death would be painful and prolonged, or so quick it was like breathing in frozen winter air, sharp and sudden.

Megan fixated on her bare feet. She sobbed, wishing she had listened to Devan sooner. She wished she had made it to Flowermoss or Wendren. Her stubbornness and fear were what had gotten her stuck now. At Flowermoss, she would have been safe, warm, and secure, like Devan told her she would be. Instead, she’d decided to hide like a little mouse. Now, she was a mouse caught in a trap by a large, vicious, angry cat.

Megan wiped her eyes and sniffed.

“Tears won’t work on me,” the man boomed.

Megan wiped her eyes again. “I’m no’ cryin’ because ye caught me.”

The man tilted his head, his brows raised. “You’re not?” he replied unconvinced.

Megan shook her head. “No. I wish I had listened to my sister and ran farther and faster.”

He laughed mockingly. “Yes, you should have.”

Megan glared at the man. “What’s yer name?”

The man smirked. “Get off my bed.”

Megan didn’t move.

“Fine,” he said.

The man physically lifted her off the mattress, then set her in the chair he’d occupied. Megan glared at him while the hulking man smiled. He took out more rope, tying it securely to her hands. The long rope slid across the floor as he held the other end.

“You’re not getting away.”

“What’s yer name?”

“Faolan.”

“Rhymes with felon.”

Faolan snorted. He took a good grip on the rope in his hand and gave it a quick jerk. She jolted forward, falling out of the chair and to her stomach. Her chin scraped the wooden floorboards. Megan righted herself, sitting back in the chair.

The corner of Faolan’s lip smirked. “Making sure,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Megan scowled, gazing out the darkened window at the rain pelting the glass. Faolan moved farther onto the bed, his boots still on, sighing as his head hit the pillow. He tied the other end of the rope to his belt loop, his hand resting on top. Megan looked around for a knife of some kind, even a fire poker, but he’d stealthily put them all by his person.

Still, it didn’t stop her from searching frantically. She was going to escape. She was going to find a way to leave, and this time, she would ride relentlessly to Flowermoss. Getting to Eavan was her driving force. Devan was lost, but she still had her eldest sister and her stepmother. And she needed them.

“You will not find anything, Megan,” Faolan said with his eyes closed.

Megan stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you a dog?” he chortled.

Megan glared. “No!”

“Then keep your tongue in your mouth.”

Megan began moving her hands against the rope. Her skin burned, becoming raw with each turn of her wrists. She didn’t care. Megan needed to get out and away from here. She should have listened to Devan, but she hadn’t. Now, she was about to pay dearly for the mistake.

Megan began to sob, remembering what her sister had said. “Be safe. Dinna stop ridin’ until the sun rises. Put the castle at yer back and the sun at yer face.” Megan hadn’t. She’d decided to hide. She wiped the tears on the sleeves of her dress.

“I should have kept ridin’,” she said quietly to herself.

“Yes, you should have,” he replied, mockingly.

Megan fought her ropes harder, feeling the skin on her wrists break and bleed. With her blood, the rope loosened. It was a small victory. With a smile, she wriggled one wrist free. Then the other. Her boots were at her feet, not on yet, as she’d never gotten the chance. Her satchel was still on her person, her coins thankfully tucked inside.

She looked over at Faolan who was breathing deeply. Megan smiled. She quietly bent down, picking up her boots. She glanced at Faolan, then the door. Without waiting any longer, she bolted.

Rain poured from the heavens, soaking her to the bone in minutes. Megan dashed for the forest. The wet brush slapped her body. She called for Merit, but she never saw the horse. Megan looked around in the darkness, trying helplessly to navigate her way. Vegetation whipped at her. The wet branches striking her skin, leaving a hot whip trail on her face. She stumbled over rotten limbs and logs.

“Merit!” she cried.

The horse did not answer or come to her. Wherever the horse was, she knew Merit would be safe. Her lungs burned from running, but she continued. Her feet hurt from not wearing shoes. Mud and other things squelched between her toes. She was free from Faolan and his wanting to take her back to Morgear. The last name of the man rang a bell in her head. However, she couldn’t place it at the moment or what he could want with her.

Megan fell over a log, scrambling and pressing her back up to it. She sucked in deep lungfuls of air, feeling the crispness burn against the back of her throat. She clambered to put her boots on her numb feet. Megan forced her breathing to calm. Branches crackled around her. Megan stopped, holding her breath.

“Really?” Faolan called, his brash voice dark and menacing. “You’re not very good at running. You still leave a trail in mud, stupid girl!”

Megan quietly tied on her second boot. Branches cracked to her right. She looked up, eyes wide. The man was like a wolf: scary, large, and apt. He frightened her to her very core.

“Gotcha,” he chuckled.

Megan grabbed a fistful of mud, flinging it up at his face. She took off like an arrow while Faolan howled with rage. She ran past him to the right, yelling for Merit to come in and save her. The blasted horse never came.

Her heart pounded. Her brain commanded her to keep running, not to ever look behind her. This was never supposed to be her life. She was supposed to be warm, at home, and thinking of possible alliances with other clan members through a marriage. Megan was supposed to be giddy about a marriage prospect, surrounded by her sisters, and tucked safely behind castle walls, not running for her life.

It was probably dumb of her to think of it now, but she’d never even kissed a man. She’d never even gotten to be loved by one. How cruel it was now, to run for her life without knowing these things. How many other women went through this? She couldn’t be the only one.

Megan glanced over her shoulder, hearing the footsteps of the man behind her. A whimper escaped her lips. She pumped her arms and legs faster, begging her body to run. Megan dug through her satchel as she ran, slowing down slightly. She pulled out the small sack of coins, tying them to the belt on her dress. She dumped her satchel, cloak, and stockings, running with the only essentials she needed.

Her legs propelled faster, running over brush and fallen logs. A low branch whipped her face, but she hardly noticed, getting away from Faolan was her only goal. She dodged trees. Leapt over roots and fallen logs. Her feet thrummed against the frozen ground. Her lungs no longer burned with cold. Her head fogged over with her only thoughts being on surviving. The back of her throat became numb.

She peeked behind her, not seeing Faolan, but she didn’t stop. She dodged a tree, going headlong into a little clearing. A large, wide pond was in the middle, blocking her path of escape. She stopped, glancing at the sky where snow had begun to fall. She needed to get around the sizable pond without wasting time. The only true, straight path was through the water.

Megan heard branches breaking behind her. Without waiting, she ran through the pond. She sucked in a breath when the water hit her waist. Megan sniffled, wading through the icy wetness. Her breaths came in quick and sharp as the coldness went up to her chest. She tried to move slowly, to not make waves or give away what she was doing. She knew she needed to escape by any means necessary.

“By Corwaithe,” she stuttered breathily.

Megan began swimming to the other side when she could no longer feel the bottom of the pond with the tips of her toes. Her water-clogged clothes made her sink, but still she swam. The icy waters hit her skin, creeping its way down her body like a frozen, gentle hand. Megan tried to tread water as she looked for the edge of the pond.

She went under, popping back up gasping. Megan kicked her legs as hard as she could, swimming toward an edge she thought was there. She grabbed for anything, but only found water.

Her clothes were sucking her under. With the final energy she had, she closed her eyes and grabbed ground. A smile split her weary face. Megan sucked in a deep breath, heaving herself out of the water. She lay there, breathing deeply.

“Megan!” Faolan called. “Come back! It’s snowing!”

Megan looked up at the sky. Snow fell down around her. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply in the brisk forest air. She’d gotten away. Faolan’s voice was distant now, going away from her as he called her name. Megan put a hand on the belt of her dress, smiling as the coins were still there.

That was a preview of Hunting Megan. To read the rest purchase the book.

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