by Layla Harper
Her smile is vicious. “So direct, Rogar, King of the Orcs. To the point. No excuses. No unnecessary questions. You have taken all the fun out of my little presentation.”
“You test my patience, witch.”
“And your misguided integrity has destroyed my city, orc.”
A growl builds in my throat. “What. Do. You. Want?”
The troll’s body tenses. He looms over me with a growl of his own until the norn lightly touches his arm. The creature settles back, his gray irises promising retribution and pain the moment the opportunity avails itself.
“Until we can begin rebuilding, I want asylum for Lithyr’s citizens. In Drengskador,” Rowena says.
My eyes narrow. There is much my people will accept, but an influx of norns and lower fae who sought our destruction during the war? I might as well end my reign now. I sheath my dagger. “I will not be coerced into offering sanctuary.”
“I told you orcs cannot be reasoned with,” Gerd spits out.
The norn’s black eyes settle over my face, piercing in their intensity. Her mouth goes slack and a white film drops over her eyes.
My heart flips in my chest. A norn’s power is centered in the complex illusions they weave to manipulate the hearts of fae. Powerful spells and potions, like the one I had hoped to purchase for Kyra, are created and sold like wares in the open market. But some norns are said to hold the gift of sight—the ability to see into the past or future—talents they employ to spy, or worse, sell information to the highest bidder.
Rowena’s eyes clear. “Interesting. This I did not see.”
With the troll temporarily distracted, I lunge for the witch, capturing her in my arms. I pivot, turn, and hold my dagger against her neck to ward off the raging beast. “Tell your commander to heel. I do not wish to draw norn blood, but I have no qualms doing so.”
Rowena’s body goes limp in my hold. “You would sacrifice your fated mate for a kingdom whose citizens cling to outdated beliefs and prejudices?”
She knows?
Thank Ulda my jaw is clenched tight or my mouth would drop open. “I would sacrifice myself to ensure a better future for all of fae-kind including haughty norns who attempt to strong-arm kings.”
“I haven’t decided if I should be impressed or disappointed in you, Rogar.” The back of her head moves side to side, scratching my chest. “A càirdeil. A bond awakened after centuries of slumber. Never in my long life did I expect to witness such a phenomenon anew, and yet, if I read you correctly, you would forsake this tribute for atonement?”
Everything inside me rebels against the prospect of giving up my mate. “What does your magic tell you?”
She is quiet for a moment while the troll watches me with a death glare.
“You will move mountains to have her,” she says after a time.
“Has history taught you naught, witch?” This world will break Kyra. Drain her of her spirit and innocence until there is nothing left. Until all that remains is barren like the lands we stand upon. I will play no part in my mate’s destruction. Not even at my expense. “Alfhemir is no place for humans.”
Rowena snorts. “Humans. Norns. Half-bloods. For too long, Alfhemir has bled.”
I cannot deny this truth. Centuries of mistrust have turned fae against fae, and I am but one voice in a sea of bigotry and injustice, a fight I grow weary of waging alone. “Time will heal the misdeeds of our past, but to reach this point, we must ensure peace reigns.”
But at what cost?
Never before have I questioned my path—my sworn duty—until now.
Until Kyra.
“Release me.” The fight vanishes from her voice. “I will give you the charm you seek.”
It is my turn to laugh. “You have fooled me once, witch. I will not fall so easily again. Your oath.”
She snorts. “Leave it to an orc to question the honor of the norn. Make the cut.”
“Tell your troll to stand back.” I wait until Gerd moves a safe distance. Rowena’s second and I will never be friends, not after today. I angle my mouth to her ear. “You will make a charm to camouflage my mate’s slave mark. One that will hide her appearance and scent from all manner of fae. You will swear to keep knowledge of her existence secret for as long as you shall live.” I glance at Gerd. “And that includes your troll.
“Fine. In return, you will release me from my debt and pay for my secrecy with a lock of your hair.”
“No.”
“Then choose. Charm or silence, but you cannot have both.”
I press the dagger to her neck. We both know the laws of magic will not allow me to force the oath, but one way or another, I will win the norn’s silence. “Charm.”
She extends her right hand.
Lowering the dagger’s tip to the heel of her palm, the blade is met with dozens of faint lines etched into her pale skin. My right hand slides over her heart, claws extending into the fabric of her dress. “Should you betray me with your magic, I will rip your heart out with my bare hands.” I let the words sink. “Brace yourself for the cut.”
“You talk too much, orc.”
My lips quirk. Despite the centuries of hatred between our races, I like this norn. In a perfect world, we might have been friends. Allies. My cut is quick and efficient.
Rowena closes her fist and begins chanting the words that will seal our oath. Magic builds in the air, rippling between us before snapping in place.
“There, it is done,” she spits out.
Fighting the urge to shudder or rub the slimy feel of her magic off my skin, I step back and release her.
Confident, her vibrant red hair blowing in the wind, Rowena walks to Gerd’s side. The troll seethes from my treatment of his mistress. She faces me, her stance proud. “Well played, Rogar, King of the Orcs. I will abide by my oath, and you yours, but we do not have to be nice about it, now do we?”
Smirking, she grabs hold of Gerd’s hand and drops a transportation charm to her feet.
Damn witch!
I roar and bolt across the short distance to find myself running through the disappearing visage of the grinning norn and her sneering second-in-command.
Get your copy of Fae King’s Hunger here.
Dear Reader,
The idea for Rogar and Kyra’s story was born last July during a writers' retreat set inside a lovely castle in Edinburgh, Scotland. I wrote the first 10,000 words that week.
And fell in love with the characters.
I hope you do too.
For this series, I took a risk by using the serial format (each book builds upon the last, like episodic television—meaning the books must be read in order). When I first researched this genre, most of the stories were released as novellas (less that 40k; over 40k is considered a novel by some industry standards), with the story told in first person present, which is the model I’m following for this series. My other books are mostly written in third person/past, so I was a bit nervous.
Turns out, I really enjoy writing in first person.
Who would have thunk?.
Anyway, the word count—if stuff like this matters to you—for each book in the Court of Bones and Ash series falls in the 46,000 to 60,000 word range. I have four books planned for Rogar and Kyra, possibly five if there’s interest.
As for the release schedule, the first two books are completed, and will launch a month apart. The third is currently in the writing/editing stage. I expect book 3, Fae King’s Sacrifice, to have a May release, unless something of epic proportions happens to impede the launch. As for books 4 and 5, I’ll know after book 3 if there is enough interest to extend Rogar’s story to a book five.
After that, honestly, it all depends on you. Fingers crossed you love this story as much as I do. The Court of Bones and Ash universe is expansive, which makes the possibilities endless. I have so many ideas. For instance, our stalwart commander, Gauron...
I think he deserves a story of his own.
Actually, I might know a witc
h who’s perfect for him. You’ll meet her in book two. Of course, Gauron doesn’t think so. He thinks she’s frustratingly arrogant, and a real pain in his arse. The last thing he needs is to get saddled with the achingly beautiful norn.
But when duty calls, what’s an orc to do?
Poor Gauron. ;-)
If you’d like more Court of Bones and Ash, please consider leaving a review. And thanks for reading. Your support means the world to me.
Peace and love,
Layla
PS- If you want updates without having to join my list, which is totally cool, check out my blog at: http://www.laylaharper.com/laylasblog.htm.
Or follow me on Facebook. But I have to warn you... I totally suck at social media. Feel free to save me from myself. ;-)
About the Author
Layla Harper is the romance pseudonym for urban fantasy author, Lora Andrews. She loves all things mythical, including arrogant dragons and the furry beasts who rule her cave. She (and her minions) live in lovely New England where she spends her time tackling domestic trials while dreaming up her next swashbuckling adventure.
You can follow her on Facebook, or join her newsletter so she can stress about wowing you with her prose.
Only kidding ;-)
www.laylaharper.com
www.loraandrews.com
FAE KING’S TEMPTATION
Court of Bones and Ash: 1
Copyright ©2019 Layla Harper
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and written permission from the author.
Edited by: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Art: Deranged Doctor Designs
For more information:
www.laylaharper.com
