by Donna Grant
Evernight
The Kindred
Donna Grant
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
EVERNIGHT
© 2020 by DL Grant, LLC
Cover Design © 2020 by Charity Hendry
ISBN 13: 978-1-942017-57-8
Available in ebook and print editions
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
www.DonnaGrant.com
www.MotherofDragonsBooks.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Thank You!
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Also by Donna Grant
About the Author
1
Scotland
Breath billowed from Synne’s mouth as the snow continued falling relentlessly, blanketing the world in white. The mare shook her head, dislodging the flakes from her black mane as they stood on the hilltop, looking out over the landscape.
Synne patted the horse’s neck. “I’m cold, too, girl. But we’ve got a long way to go yet.”
At least that’s what Synne suspected. She had no idea where the Varroki lived exactly. All she knew was the direction: north. So, that’s where she was headed.
She knew snow well, but the kind of cold she felt now was much worse than she was used to. It penetrated her layers of clothing to sink into her bones, making her movements slow, dulled. Her fingers were numb, and she couldn’t feel her feet. She needed to move quickly if she ran into the Coven, and as it was now, she wasn’t sure she could.
Just thinking about the Coven brought rage and grief so intense that her throat clogged with it. She would never forget the sight of those she had called family slain by the witch Sybbyl and her band of Gira.
Synne was a Hunter. She had been trained by one of the greatest knights, Radnar, and Edra, a powerful witch, to hunt those of the Coven and keep others safe. Now, Edra and Radnar were gone, as were so, so many others in their sanctuary.
For years, Synne had known love and safety. She was an expert with her bow, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she had a connection with nature. Trees, in particular. But everything she had known and loved was now gone. Because Sybbyl sought the bones of the First Witch. That’s what all this was about.
Luckily, another Hunter, Leoma, and a nobleman, Braith, had stumbled across the Blood Skull. Braith was the Warden of the Blood Skull. It only responded to him. That meant no one else—especially those of the Coven—could use it. Since the Coven couldn’t get to the Blood Skull, they had gone after the Staff of the Eternal. The piece of wood contained the thigh bone of the First Witch, granting the possessor immense power. And, unfortunately, Sybbyl had gotten her hands on it.
The scales had tipped in their favor when the Hunters learned that a witch named Helena was a descendant of the First Witch—the actual Living Heart. Helena’s magic was greater than Sybbyl’s. Regrettably, however, Sybbyl had been smart enough to get away during their battle.
Synne now believed that the Staff of the Eternal would allow Sybbyl to find the Varroki, who had been hidden for years. Everyone knew Sybbyl’s next stop on her list of enemies was Blackglade, where the Varroki lived. And if the Hunters and innocents were really unlucky, Sybbyl would find yet another bone of the First Witch and make herself even stronger.
A long sigh escaped Synne. She had gone over this countless times since she’d burned those she loved at the abbey, but she hadn’t come up with anything that might help her or anyone else. At least they still had Braith and the Blood Skull, not to mention Helena as the Heart. But there were other bones of the First Witch out there yet to be found.
Synne nudged her mare into a walk. The sky was thick with clouds, and it looked like the snow had no intention of stopping anytime soon. She needed to find some shelter. While the horse picked her way down the slope, Synne considered the Varroki. The Hunters hadn’t known about them until recently, even though the Varroki had been waging their own war against the Coven since the days following the First Witch’s death.
The Varroki were secretive, and for good reason. Their numbers included warlocks, something no one thought existed. For her entire life, Synne had believed that only women could have magic. Meeting the Lady of the Varroki, Malene, and her Commander, Armir, had opened Synne’s eyes to a whole new world.
She’d never thought to leave the forest and the sanctuary Edra and Radnar had created. Yet her path now led her toward Blackglade and the Varroki. She had no idea what awaited her there besides war. There was no getting past what was coming, not that she wanted to. And she honestly didn’t expect to survive the battle. After all, she had no magic.
It was the one thing she had wished for above all things. But wishing didn’t change anything. As she had learned the hard way.
Synne glanced around. She liked that she was out in the open. She had purposefully traveled that way since crossing into Scotland. It allowed her to see all around her when she crested the ever-rising hills. However, the wide-open spaces were quickly coming to an end. Ahead of her was a vast forest. Her heart leaped at the thought of being in the confines of the woods again. But that quickly dissipated as she thought of the Gira.
For as long as she could remember, Synne had been terrified of the nymphs. Their skin and hair resembled the bark of a tree, allowing them to camouflage themselves so that no one could see them until the Gira chose to reveal themselves.
The tree nymphs mainly kept to the Witch’s Groves, but they were known to venture out at times. Their whispers drew people. Once near the Gira, they pulled the unsuspecting person close, so the tree could surround them, holding them hostage for the Gira to torture and play with at their leisure. But it was the way the Gira killed that caused knots to form in Synne’s stomach.
The nymphs devoured people.
Synne couldn’t remember when she had first learned of the Gira, but she had known of their existence long before Edra had told her about them. Synne had never delved too far into her memories to learn when she had discovered the Gira—mostly because she didn’t care. The nymphs were evil, and she wanted to stay away from them.
She hated that the Gira used trees to hide. Synne had always been drawn to trees. Just touching them calmed her, but her fear of the nymphs kept her away from them after the Gi
ra had killed everyone at the abbey. And Synne felt the loss keenly.
Despite her need to be near trees, Synne wasn’t looking forward to the approaching forest because of the dangers within. Her hatred of the Gira grew for taking that from her. Most of the anger inside her was directed at the Coven and the Gira. They had ripped her world apart. She didn’t remember her family or the time before Edra had found her, but she felt nothing about that now. Maybe it was because she had no memories of that time that she wasn’t consumed by the need for vengeance.
Unlike the sight of all her friends lying dead that she couldn’t stop seeing each time she closed her eyes.
Though she hadn’t spoken, the mare sensed Synne’s turmoil and nickered softly while swiveling her ears toward her.
“I’m sorry,” Synne told the mare. “I’m trying to control it.”
And control was something she needed to do. She couldn’t face her enemies while feeling such fury. It would cause her to make poor decisions. She needed to have a clear head and heart in order to succeed.
She did her best to let go of the anger. It took far longer than she liked, but eventually, Synne accomplished her goal. By that time, the forest lay directly in front of her. She pulled back on the reins to stop the horse.
The mare instantly obeyed. For the next few moments, both horse and rider stared at the woods before them. Synne looked to either side, but no matter how hard she searched, she didn’t see a way around the forest. No doubt there was one, but she didn’t want to waste time finding it. The shortest route was through the trees.
“Be vigilant,” Synne told herself and the mare.
The horse blew out a breath in response.
She clicked, and the mare proceeded forward. Synne’s heart raced with each step they took, and while her mind screamed for her to turn and run away, Synne didn’t stop the animal. Soon, the woodland swallowed them up.
The moment they were within the confines of the forest, it was like entering a different world. Birds chirped, and a squirrel hollered nearby. The trees helped to protect her from the snow, catching the flakes on their thick, leafless limbs as well as the many evergreens. Wind whistled softly through the branches, almost like a lullaby.
Synne directed the mare, following a path as far from the trees as she could get, but it was still closer than she was comfortable with. The need to touch the bark warred with her fear that the Gira were nearby and hiding.
If she were Sybbyl, she would leave the Gira in the forest to slow anyone approaching. Then again, no one really knew where Sybbyl was. That in itself was terrifying. Everyone assumed that since the leader of the Coven had taken out the abbey, that Sybbyl would then head to Blackglade to attack the Varroki.
It made the most sense, but Sybbyl hadn’t done things that made sense in the past, so Synne wasn’t sure what to think. She could be allowing her fear to control her for nothing. Which was most likely the case. But when it came to witches, no one could ever really be sure.
Synne stopped the mare once more. This time, her anger was directed at herself. She was a trained Hunter. She didn’t fear facing a witch, and she shouldn’t be afraid of the Gira either. Witches could do all sorts of magic. Who was to say that one couldn’t hide themselves like a nymph?
The last thing Synne should do was let fear sway her. She’d been in constant turmoil since she’d left the abbey. But the one thing that could help her was the very thing that surrounded her now—trees.
She eyed the foliage nearest her. None of the trunks looked as if a Gira were hiding there, nor did Synne hear any whispers. In fact, the forest appeared normal. Synne took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and snow. Everything smelled…clean. Nothing seemed amiss.
Synne lowered her gaze to the mare. The horse was calm, seemingly not picking up on anything she’d missed. She nudged the mare forward once more and continued through the forest. Her gaze moved from side to side, searching for Gira, witches, or anything else that could be a threat.
When she could take no more, she reached out and touched a tree as she passed. Her gloved hand lingered for just a moment, but even that small contact bolstered her. Yet it wasn’t enough. She removed her glove before she reached out to the next tree. When the rough, cold bark slid against her palm, she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
No one, not even Edra, knew why Synne needed to lay hands on the trees. Edra had found Synne in a forest, at least that’s what the witch had told Synne. She had no memory of that time—or before that. Which was probably for the best.
The woods around her grew denser, the tall pines stretching high to the sky, their limbs extending out like fingers. She looked up, but the hood of her cloak prevented her from seeing directly above her.
With the mare weaving through the trees, Synne grew more and more relaxed. Never again would she allow fear to govern her. The fact that she had mastered her emotions proved that she needed the woods. She didn’t want to think what would’ve happened had she continued to let her fear rule her.
Synne traveled for a while before she stopped the mare near a huge oak. She slid from the horse and dropped the reins. Synne wasn’t worried about the mare bolting. The horse was too well trained for that. Synne lowered the hood of her cloak and took off her other glove as she approached the tree. Once she stood before it, she placed both hands on its bark and closed her eyes.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
While she didn’t hear words from the trees, she did feel things. Right now, the oak was telling her hello. She smiled and pressed her cheek to the trunk as she spread her arms, giving the giant tree a hug.
“You will let me know if something is amiss, right?” she asked softly.
In response, the tree creaked as its limbs moved when a breeze slid around her. Synne’s eyes snapped open. Thanks to the oak, she knew in an instant that she wasn’t alone. The tree didn’t tell her it was something dangerous, but Synne was on guard, nonetheless.
She straightened and dropped her arms as her head snapped to the left. Her gaze met that of a man sitting astride a white horse. The male’s long, black hair hung loosely about his shoulders, and his eyes bored into hers. Even with the beard, she could see the sharp line of his jaw. He sat on his mount like one who had been born to ride.
The hilt of a sword could be seen over his shoulder. He likely had other weapons, as well, because he was, without a doubt, a warrior.
Whether Synne killed him or not depended on what side he was on.
2
He’d never seen a woman like her before. Lachlan wasn’t sure what to think. She touched the trees as she passed them, and the action confused him. But it wasn’t until she embraced the oak that he saw her lips move, almost as if she were talking to it.
His grandmother had once mentioned those who had a deep connection to nature, but he had believed it was the ramblings of her confused mind. Now, he wondered if she had been telling him the truth.
Lachlan had spotted the woman riding toward the woods. It was obvious that she was hesitant to enter the forest, but she hadn’t let that stop her. At first, he’d thought it was because she might have suspected that he was within. While her cloak hid her face, her narrow shoulders and slight frame instantly marked her as female. He’d been so intent on watching her that he hadn’t immediately noticed the bow she carried until she dismounted, but his attention had quickly shifted to the weapon.
And now, it was focused on the way she stared at him. There was no fear in her amber eyes. Instead, he gazed into the face of one who had faced death. Someone who had delivered death.
He was intrigued by this woman. She was unlike any he’d seen before, and while a part of him rebelled against it, another part was unable to look away. It was that interest that urged him to go to her, to discover her name and learn who she was.
Lachlan had wielded a sword before he could even lift it properly. His father and two uncles had trained him to fight for the clan, and he did it not just bec
ause it was expected, but because he knew it was what he was meant to do.
Because of his training, he recognized the difference between someone who carried a weapon for show, and those who knew how to use them. This woman was the latter. His sister had begged him to show her how to use a bow, but his father had refused. Lachlan didn’t dare go against his sire. Yet someone in this female’s life had taken the time to train her.
Lachlan tightened his fingers on the reins of his mount. He gave a slight tap with his heel, and the gelding moved forward. Lachlan didn’t take his eyes from the woman, nor she from him. She didn’t move, but he had the sense that she was prepared for an attack from any angle.
Damn intriguing.
The closer he got to her, the more he was able to take her in. At first, he’d believed her blond hair was cut short, but he now saw that it was held back from her face by several rows of braids hidden by the hood of her cloak. He wondered how long it was and had the desire to push the hood back to get a better look at it.
Amber eyes observed him carefully, warily. While her gaze was that of a warrior, her face resembled an angel’s. Beauty, unlike any he’d ever gazed upon before, stood before him now. Her skin was flawless, her cheekbones high, and her lips delightfully full. If her face was this beautiful, he could well imagine what her body looked like. It was too bad the cloak hid it from view.
