Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series

by Heather Fleener

  Lorcan was again reflecting on Kat’s insistence that she be allowed to exist as both Witch and Vampire. He knew full well, though he was loath to admit it to her or any other, that his magic lingered. The power attempted to surge to the forefront all too often during battle or times of crisis. He had sense enough of himself to know that the power that surged was not merely a flickering remnant of his mother’s gift. It had continued to grow in strength and had not diminished as he had claimed that Kat’s would. Though he had not outwardly attempted to confirm the strength, Lorcan knew he still possessed every ability had he before his transition. During the two thousand years that had passed that power had continued to grow of its own accord. He had resented its presence every day of his life since his mother’s betrayal…until Kat had come back from the dead.

  Prior to Kat’s reappearance in his life, he had been content to allow the power to lie fallow and remain within. He could not rid himself of it and he did not need the complications that knowledge of its existence would bring. The Vampire, most especially his father, would either attempt to drive it from him or drive him out. Alaric had ensured that his hatred towards the Witch was ingrained in his most loyal followers. Equally so, the Witch would have attempted to lay claim to him.

  Although Lorcan had adored his Witch mother, her actions had devastated him in his youth. He felt absolutely no kinship to the remainder of the Witch breed. Many of their kind were arrogant and condescending as they believed their creation and purpose in the Realm elevated them above all others, human and Vampire alike. Those that were more humble were often oddly eccentric, having quirks and habits that made them not appealing as companions, much less kin.

  More importantly, the crux of the issue for him was that he had chosen to align himself with his remaining family and the Vampire breed. As his mate he had expected Kaitriana to do the same. Lorcan rubbed his palm wearily across his brow before giving a sidelong glance to his Elite, knowing full well they were keeping a safe distance by remaining at the far end of the room. He knew he was being unreasonable. His temper was out of control and had been directed against those who had given him their loyalty their entire immortal existence.

  These men were also his family. He had come to the conclusion this night that he needed to gain control of himself. Kaitriana would return to him…eventually. Lorcan knew her pull to him was every bit as strong as his to her. Unfortunately, when it came to dealing with the witchling, patience was not his strong suit.

  He had yet to come to a complete decision on how he would proceed with the issue of his magic. Lorcan had concluded that he would speak to Kaitriana of his powers. He would be certain she understood that the decision whether or not to disclose that information to any other would remain with him. Similarly, the decision of whether or not he would ever allow those powers to rise would also be his alone.

  Lorcan would not be pushed in this matter by his female. No matter how wonderfully appealing she may be and no matter what pleasure or displeasure she might have with his decision, she would abide by him in this fully. Coming to that conclusion internally and realizing that it would be impossible for Kaitriana to remain apart from him for long, his mood had lightened considerably.

  Looking again at his Elite, he pushed from his chair and strode towards the table. It was time to take his place back with them. He understood the import that these five had remained at his side. At all times and in all things, even this week when he had been little more than an ill-tempered beast, their presence had been unwavering.

  Though the group maintained the appearance of an easy demeanor at his approach, he did see a few uncertain glances cast amongst them as he crossed the chamber. Setting his tankard on the table, he dropped into his place at its head. His expression remained schooled and calm; it took only a few moments for the group to sense the release of his tension. They readily resumed their debate about their skills, both on and off the battlefield.

  Lorcan laughed upon realizing the nefarious course of their discussion. His finely skilled warriors were having a disagreement over Kat’s friend, Lilly. Each of the five was certain that he had the better chance with getting the beauty to warm his bed. Entering into the banter, he chided, “From what I have seen of the girl she barely spares any of you a glance.” He knew his next words would cause outrage, “In fact, she seems to be spending the majority of her time with Jortha. I think the female favors witches.” His words had the intended effect and the men were in an uproar; a good-natured sparring of words ensued.

  The five were competitive. It was one of the reasons each had the tenacity to make it into this exclusive group and fight directly at his side. He studied them, the group was so diverse yet a strongly cohesive unit: Colm with his sandy good looks and easy demeanor; Sayer, a near mirror image of Lorcan though slightly leaner in build; Broderick, the black haired, black eyed Ancient that tended to brood; Marcus also dark in hair, confidently smug but always ready with laughter; and Lucas, unlike his brother Marcus in both his reddish-brown hair and his thoughtful and reserved manner. These five had been with him through everything for centuries.

  Jortha shoved through the solid doors interrupting the line of his thoughts. The very subject of the Elite’s conversation trailed shortly behind the witch. Lorcan was finally in the right state of mind to take note of the fact that the young witch no longer trembled in the presence of these warrior vampire. He looked neither pale nor sickly. Lorcan was amazed that in a few short days Kat had helped Jortha confront the fear and aversion that had plagued him. That the male witch had actually been working with Lilly the past week spoke volumes, as did his lack of hesitation at entering this space.

  Jortha stopped a few feet from the table, announcing, “Sir, I have news.” All eyes at the table shot in Jortha’s direction in anticipation and Lorcan unfolded his frame slowly from his chair.

  When Lorcan stepped before him, Jortha continued, “I have finally felt her powers rising; she has shielded herself well until now. The magic she is drawing forth this night is too much to be hidden. It is of the same magnitude as the night she first appeared.”

  Alarm was readily visible on Lorcan’s features, his question short and clipped, “Is she in danger?”

  Jortha shook his head with uncertainty, waiting for Lilly to come to his side before continuing, “I do not sense any danger, but I have had no visions of her or her current condition. I felt her power surge moments ago and I have only been able to determine her location.”

  Lorcan waved his hand at his Elite with the simple instruction, “Prepare, and get twenty of our strongest along with you. We will need to be ready to protect her if the Dark have determined her location as well.” Turning back to Jortha as his men headed toward the great hall to gather the required numbers, he asked simply “Where is she?”

  Jortha had been dreading that question and the reluctance to voice the information was obvious in his tone, “Kaitriana is at Laverock, Sir.”

  The Elite stopped short of the door; each gave Lorcan an assessing look. The slow clenching of his hands was an indication of his immediate pique. He hissed the question through gritted teeth, “You are certain?”

  At Jortha’s nod, Lorcan spun towards the door, waving his men forward ahead of him, “She had best hope the Dark have found her and I am able to spend my anger taking a few heads before I get to her.” Lorcan shook his head, disbelieving the audacity of his witch. His impassioned words were more for himself than any other, “She knows better.” He shadowed to his chambers to prepare as his men filed out to do the same.

  CHAPTER 25

  Kaitriana’s pleasure radiated in her expression as she took in the magnificence of Laverock. She had spent three full days and a great amount of magic restoring the rambling castle to its former splendor and was well-satisfied with the results. Lights reflected warmly on the glass panes that now filled the spaces where empty openings had once given entrance to nature’s elements. In the front, the tumbling rock was fully repaired
and reinforced with both mortar and magic. The polish given to the smooth stone that covered the exterior of the massive structure gleamed in the moonlight. The furniture, tapestries, floors and fancy chandeliers looked as they in the time of Brisen. All had been restored but also improved with her magic to incorporate modern conveniences.

  An immense staircase rose from below to the second floor and then wound on up to the third. She was meandering down the stone steps as though she had no urgent matters pressing. Focused on the majestic beauty surrounding her, Kat caressed a hand lovingly over the balustrade at her side and continued her trek downward in the direction of the main entry. The great hall was over three times the size of the one at Lorcan’s Breslein estate. She could hear the elevated voices below and as she took the last turn of the steps she could see the large press of Witch gathered within. It warmed her heart to have her people occupying this space once more.

  The thought of Lorcan and what she knew would be his displeasure over the same errantly interjected itself at that moment. Rather than allow it to interfere with her enjoyment, she shrugged it off. She was unwilling to allow herself to feel the guilt over deliberately defying him, more accurately – defying Alaric – in this. Kat was firmly unwavering in her belief that his family had relinquished the rights to this heirloom when Lorcan had ended his association with the Witch.

  Although it was her responsibility, according the Myrrdyn, to be the key to Lorcan accepting his place in fulfilling the Prophecy, she did not intend to yield to him on everything just to entice him into assuming the role. She was the Chosen after all and had certain duties to her kin. She would lend her support to him in most things but not in this; his stance on Laverock was unreasonable.

  Refocused, Kat instead dwelled on the sounds of the voices. She had gathered all of the leaders of the Castes and accompanying them were the best-skilled witches from each group. The number of Witch in attendance was so great that the hall was brimming over and the attendees were spilling out into the inner bailey of the castle. All were ready for war and unified under her to face the task that had been raised to them this night.

  Three nights into her self-imposed exile, after she had completed the refurbishing of Laverock, Kat had called the Caste leaders to her. Given that Myrrdyn had earlier plead her case with the group, her entreaty to join her at the castle was all that had been required to unite them in purpose. Even Kendrick had been graciously accepting despite her earlier smite on his character.

  Together the leaders had developed the plans for moving forward in the Realm, absent the anticipation of any immediate unification or alliance with the Vampire. It was agreed that the strength of Kaitriana’s magic coupled with the legions of Caste warriors could overwhelm the forces of the Dark and allow the Light to strike a major blow. This first battle in the renewed war against the Dark was essential to their ultimate purpose and turning the tide in favor of the Light. Tonight would be the initial step to end the subjection of the Realm by the Dark.

  She was dressed as a Witch Warrior, the black leather of her pants stretched down to meet the rise of boots that stopped just short of her knee. Her heels struck sharp taps against the stones as she reached the landing…if a girl had to wear shoes, they needed to be fabulous. Although the narrow spikes might seem unconventional when considering their impending mission, the heels were reinforced with her own magic and no small amount of metal, making them rather handy weapons. She wore a snug and elaborately designed corset, reinforced for protection with her magic. The designs from each Caste were etched prominently on it in shimmering blue that appeared almost liquid in form under the lights in the hall. As always, it had been deliberate - Witch symbols, Lorcan’s colors. The long strands of her hair were captured back from her face by a filigreed, ice-blue metallic band that rested at the hairline on her forehead and left the inky curls free to stream down her back.

  Kaitriana had designed her eyes with the same blues - bold metallic paint done in the style of the Ancient Witch Queens. The color was drawn so heavily as to appear a resplendent mask, rising up to where it met the band on her forehead and over to her temples. As was also common during days of the Queens, her curls had been given intermittent treatments of the same colors, dark blue and glittering icy streaks played through the black.

  A belt of intricate metalwork played upon her hips, holding the sheath for a sword designed with the symbol of the Light on the hilt. The blade length was shortened to be most effective in her grasp if she were to need its assistance to her magic. She looked every bit a Witch Queen as she paused on the landing before the final line of steps down to the great hall. A hush took the crowd as they beheld the glorious image of their Chosen.

  Kendrick began to make his way across the room towards her and she nodded to him in acknowledgement but pointedly returned her attention to the crowd before he could reach her side. Her smile was warm in greeting, her eyes grim in their determination. She lifted her right hand skyward and blue light danced in the palm, “Tonight, we war. The Dark will know once again the power of the Light!”

  The reaction by her fellow Witch was an uproarious cheer. Weapons were thrust high alongside hands raised and filled with either light or fire. Kaitriana’s smile wavered for a brief second when she felt a telling shift in the air and the sudden instinctive awareness of a presence. Reclaiming her poise and swinging her eyes to the end of the hall, she lit immediately upon Lorcan. His gaze shot black as it touched hers. She scanned over the twenty-five warriors flanking him; Colm and the Elite had the space immediate to Lorcan’s right hand. The expression of every vampire mirrored the chilling animosity of their lord’s.

  Kaitriana neither faltered nor displayed any outward sign of emotion. Calmly taking the last few steps down and beginning a deliberately slow walk across the long hall, she would not deign to rush to his side as though he were the mighty warlord and she his servant. Kaitriana also would not break her gaze and she refused to cower from his. Tossing her head to send her curls back from her shoulders, she tilted her chin an arrogant notch as she approached. The cavernous room had grown eerily quiet; the steady tap of her heels to stone was the only sound as it echoed against the stone walls.

  Lorcan was livid, the steady tick in his clenched jaw indicative of it. He had hastily rallied his men, not knowing if he would be in time to save the girl and fearing he may be too late if she had been engaged by forces from the Dark. In a show of strength with his finest warriors he had shadowed into his former home prepared to battle only to find Kaitriana hosting a tea party with the Witch. She had the nerve to fill the castle walls to the brim with all of her kinfolk, in blatant disregard of the dictate that forbid their presence.

  Seeing his female dressed in her warrior’s garb that put every appealing inch of her on provocative display, preparing to take the contingent of Witch to battle, had his blood boiling. That the girl did not have the sense to look either remorseful or even slightly intimidated by his presence did nothing to defuse the situation. Kat was merely sauntering his direction with no sense of urgency in her presentation. At the moment he would have no problem slaying every witch in attendance if it provided him the opportunity to bend her disobedient behind – albeit sexy, encased entirely too tightly in black leather behind - over his knee and give her the thrashing she deserved. His restraint was already near end, before she adopted a no-care-in-the-world smile and offered him and his men a cheery wave in greeting.

  Lorcan gave her a sneering growl in response that sent the desired reaction through the gathered Castes. Peripherally he witnessed a flickering light in the palms of some, though the majority were set to twittering with apprehensive speculation about his arrival. Kat swallowed hard over his outward expression of anger and had his eyes not been trained on her he might have missed it.

  She was uneasy. That assessment was confirmed when she began worrying her teeth against her lower lip. His beauty was not quite the study in confidence that she was projecting. He was pleased with the
realization that she was actually apprehensive when faced with his anger, but he begrudgingly had to give her credit for not belying that fact to her Faction. Her composure under the circumstances and in her leadership of the hundreds of Witch gathered was a credit to her character.

  Still, it did nothing to alleviate his ire. His darkly forbidding gaze intensified on Kaitriana when she stopped a good ten feet from him. Noting it, she obviously thought better of forcing him to meet her and hastened to close the remainder of the distance. Foolish on her part, he thought, since she had put herself within reach of his hands and they were itching to wring her gorgeous neck.

  Kat extended her hand forward but caught herself before she laid it on his arm. It hovered there for a brief second before lowering to her side. Her eyes held an imploring look now that her back was to the Witch and he was her sole audience. Finding a bit more of the false bravado she had presented on her approach however, her words were to the point and devoid of any emotion, “Lorcan, I did not expect that you would seek me here, in this place, if at all.”

  He did not answer her immediately, allowing her time to grow uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his blistering stare. Finally, Lorcan took a single step to remove the space that separated them. His chest brushed hers. The blatant challenge in his eyes taunted her to retreat from him. His words were dangerously soft, so low that they would only be caught by her and his Vampire followers, “How could I possibly come to you? You were so well hidden by your magic until now, little witch.” He snarled those final two words, definitely a slur on her breed rather than an endearment.

  Lorcan had no care whether the Witch Castes heard him or not when he continued, “Imagine my surprise when Jortha finally located you here…in my home!” His voice boomed in his anger and he found pleasure watching her jump in reaction. Raking his eyes scathingly down her body, they were filled with annoyance by the time they once more touched hers, “You need to put some clothes on, Witch.” A couple of his Elite had the nerve to guffaw loudly over that.