by Brandon Barr
Meluscia slipped through the crack in the door like a rabbit escaping a fox, and was gone. Savarah returned her attention to the front of the room. Osiiun’s eyes were on her. He sat on the bench beside Valcere. She blinked a message to him, and he responded in kind.
He would be expecting news from Orum, and with the sudden death of Aszelbor, the undercook, his keen senses would be alert to danger.
Her next two moves would be crucial.
Kill Osiiun, her master’s fiercest fighter, before the night was out. Before news spread to Harcor that Aszelbor had died.
Then she would ride like the wind.
That was the plan, at least. If word escaped to any of the spies that a traitor was on the loose, all surprise would be lost, and her mission would become infinitely more difficult.
The element of surprise had to be maintained, no matter the cost.
_____
MELUSCIA
“You have more courage than most, Meluscia. Don’t loose heart.”
Mairena’s soothing words couldn’t chase away the shock of all that had transpired…all that would soon come to pass.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Meluscia bitterly. “I’m sorry to leave you with that man as your leader.”
She wanted to say so much more, but it would only echo her broken hopes.
I’m sorry I will not have the chance to make peace with the Verdlands. A peace I felt so certain I could get! I’m sorry I’ll be cast from the Hold, unable to share my food any longer. Unable to be an advocate for you and the other servants…all the good people of our realm. Our outpost villages will continue to be pillaged and burned by Nightmares. The men, women and children murdered on our borders will have no reprisals of justice done in their name.
Mairena left at Meluscia’s request. Meluscia needed to be alone, despite her loneliness. She’d spent so much of her life in the solitude of her mind, it was all she knew to do in times of failure.
She again found a cold hollow in the rock passageway, shadowed from the courtiers who occasionally passed along the western tunnel leading to the throne room. Her rapid breaths caught in the cold evening air, then disappeared. A vague pulse shook her vision as each heartbeat pounded in her throat.
Two soldiers walked by the opening of the hollow, unaware of her watching eyes. She looked at each face as it came and went. The desperation she felt now was immense. The voices of her inner life, both fearful and strong, fought for a response.
What do I do now?
You’re going to the Verdlands. You have to fight.
How do I fight?
You’ll find a way. You have to help your people, and the Verdlands.
I’ll be alone.
That’s nothing new.
The shadows cast by the sparse torch light flickered like dying embers against the walls before her. Servants passed, faces briefly illumined before disappearing like ghosts into the dark.
A man neared her rock hollow, his face intimately familiar.
Mica.
In an instant, the fire burning inside changed, as if a crosswind had suddenly assaulted it, and now the flames raged, uncontrolled in a new direction.
The fire was desperate for strength, full of longing.
She took a step out from her hollow and grasped Mica by the arm before he passed. He turned in surprise, then his eyes caught her own, lit by the light of the torches. She drew him toward her with a light tug, back into the darkness. Quickly her hands slid around his back.
A sob shook her and she began to cry lightly on his shoulder. Her confusion and anger were swept away as his arms came around her.
“My Lady, are you alright?” he said, his tone caught between formality and the intimacy of her body so close to his own.
She said nothing for a time, relishing the strength of Mica’s arms enfolding her. In his warmth her crying quieted.
“No,” she finally whispered. “I’m not alright. I need something from you.”
A short moment passed before he asked, “What is it, My Lady?”
She lifted her face to his, their breathing mingling, lips ever so close to touching. Her silence and the hidden space they stood in made plain her desires.
His hand briefly touched the side of her face, then slid to the back of her head where his fingers ran through her hair. Every stroke of his fingers brought life and fire into her blood.
His scent filled each breath she took, his lips hovering so near. Moving closer, slow, hesitant. She ached for the culmination of their touch.
Mica’s movement toward her paused, then he whispered, “My Lady, I can’t.”
“It can be our secret,” she heard herself whisper. “No one will ever know.”
In the quiet, his hand moved up her back. His lips again poised on the verge of touching her own, she wanted to spring at them. Slowly he drew back.
“I’m sorry, My Lady.” She heard him breathe deeply. “I must go. I have an urgent message for your father in the throne room.”
Her heart sank at his words, but her hunger did not abet. She pressed her palms against his solid back, letting him know she was not yet dissuaded.
“Can it not wait but a moment,” she said softly, her fingertips digging lightly against his rough shirt.
He hesitated only briefly. “No. I should go…”
She slid her hands to rest on his hips, no longer hemming him in. “You’ll not find my father in the throne room,” said Meluscia, her thin voice springing from wound upon wound. “He is sick in bed. Valcere sits in his stead.”
Mica’s hands squeezed lightly where they rested on her side. “I’m sorry to hear that. Truly.”
He stepped back into the torchlight, making to leave.
“What is your urgent message?” she asked.
“A Nightmare attack, here at the Hold.”
The words froze her.
“At the Hold? Where?”
“Your father’s back paddock. The royal horses. A night watchman was killed.”
She shuddered, a chill racing the length of her body. “Go,” she said. “Tell Valcere.”
“Yes, My Lady,” he said, delaying only a moment to hold her gaze before turning down the corridor.
She watched him rush away, her emotions in chaos. When he disappeared out of sight, she turned in the direction he had come.
A Nightmare…here?
As she walked, she sensed something had changed. The familiar corridor no longer felt safe, the spaces between lit torches full of ominous shadows.
One thing was now certain in her mind.
Her trip to the Verdlands was more pressing than ever. Her father’s will, and Valcere’s wrath be damned.
Reconciliation between her people and the Verdlands was possible—she felt certain of it.
She had to try to be Monaiella, to break down borders erected in men and women’s hearts. Even if it meant a dungeon would be her ultimate home.
What did it matter? What did home even mean to her now?
As she made the long trip to the lower plateau where the royal horses were kept, her thoughts returned to what had just transpired between her and Mica. He had wanted her. But he had also hesitated. Why?
She sensed the answer. It was more than just the urgent message he’d needed to deliver. His desire for her had been strong. She had felt it. But something had overcome it. Her name was Praseme. And he loved her.
Inside, the flames of desire were now only smoldering cinders. Soon she would leave the Hold. Soon her former life would be cut-off from her. After she set out to the Verdlands, it might never be safe to come to the Hold again. Her future swirled before her, mysterious and dark.
She had needed Mica, now, more than ever.
If he would have only kissed her. A few moments of blissful surrender, his body against hers, the sensual touch of his lips in motion with her own…it would have been just what her soul craved. His kisses drawing out of her a faith in herself. Infusing strength and confidence.
; Her imagination blew on the dying embers, stoking them into a small flame.
Somehow the fire had to be satisfied.
This was her last chance to…
She stopped. Her hands pressed against her chest, her fingertips channeling the pulsing within.
My last chance to do what?
End of Book One, for BOOK TWO
The Portal Beyond Her World
Click Here
Reviews
Hello! I truly hope you enjoyed book one, Her Dangerous Visions. I’m an independent author, and that means reviews are precious! Would you consider rating it and giving a brief review on Amazon and/or Goodreads? One word or one sentence will do!! The links take you straight to the review page, and a review takes only seconds to write :)
Newsletter
I LOVE interacting with readers. Join my VIP Newsletter and receive:
Ella Dethroned, a FREE prequel novella in The Boy and the Beast Series
Updates on new releases
Notification of promotions and discounts
Opportunity to join my beta reading team
Short stories and novellas for free. Vote for scenes and characters you would like me to write (off-camera scenes from the novels, or completely original scenes!)
Giveaways (autographed novels and short stories, autographed bookmarks, Amazon gift cards, and anything else cool I can think of…)
Join today!
Follow Brandon
Website: brandonbarr.com
Twitter: twitter.com/bjbstories
Facebook: facebook.com/BrandonJBarr/
Blog: sciencefantasywriter.blogspot.com
Dedication
To my amazingly loving wife, Amanda, for all her support! She is not only a wonderful wife, she is an amazing mother, and has been my hugest source of strength and my dearest friend. I love you.
Thanks
I would like to thank the entire Restoration Writer’s Group: especially Delaney Walnofer, Aimee Walnofer, and Sarah Christison. And also a thank you to my beta reading team, as well as Amanda Barr, Mike Lynch, J.W. Wartick and Crista Herr. And last but not least, my excellent editor, Holly Lorincz.
About me
Brandon Barr writes in the genres of science fiction and fantasy and often combines the two, preferring stories where the science is soft, the fantastic is vivid, and the flesh and soul characters are front and center.
The Boy and the Beast Series is his breakout, genre-blending science-fantasy drama set in a vast fantasy universe where elements of science fiction are dominated by gods and monsters, visions and gifts.
Barr has written dozens of short stories, many previously published in SF/F magazines and anthologies. He dabbled in writing modern YA and adventure fiction with a co-author, but has returned to his first love, sci-fi and fantasy.
He lives in Southern California with his wife, Amanda, and their three boys. When not writing, Brandon loves to garden, hike, fish, and play board games. He attends a small church which just so happens to be absolutely infested with wonderfully artistic members, who cheer each other on.
The most influential authors in his life are Michael Crichton, Ray Bradbury, C.S. Lewis, and Orson Scott Card.
Table of Contents
Contents
Title Page
Prequel Novella Offer
LOAM
CHAPTER 0
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
HEARTH
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
LOAM
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
HEARTH
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
LOAM
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
HEARTH
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
Newsletter
Thanks and Dedication
About the Author
