by Lily Luchesi
Morgan turned to regard her. “Just cooperation, My Lady.” Looking between them, she began to explain. “Pegasus did have children, and they currently live within the forest. Winged horses, I believe it might be prudent to call them Peges, mini-Pegasuses. They have no particular powers that I can discern ― no horns, you see ― but they are magical creatures nonetheless, and a small, rare species we know little about.
“I wish to propose a treaty and law between the Coven and mortals: that Peges will not be taken for breeding, for sport, hunted, or used in any way. That they will be protected and free, as they were meant to be when Pegasus sired them.”
She looked between them both. Arthur seemed to take it all in, and Aritza grimaced.
“What about study?” she asked.
“As long as ‘study’ doesn’t involve torture or death, I don’t see why not. They’re docile creatures and like people,” Morgan replied. “And you, Pendragon?”
“They fly?” he asked, eyes wide.
She nodded. “They allow riders, but cannot be saddled or kept in stables.”
“Brilliant,” he said breathlessly. “I will agree to your terms.”
“As will I,” Aritza said. “I recall you were protective of Pegasus as a child.”
Morgan nodded. “One more thing. I made a promise to a friend that the remaining magical creatures that live in the river will not be hunted any longer, and that anyone found polluting the waters with toxic substances, including potions and ingredients, will be removed from the Coven or imprisoned in Camelot forthwith.”
“Whoa, wait a second,” Arthur said, holding his hands up. “You’re telling me if someone from Camelot happens to catch a creature, they have to toss it back in? And we have to find elsewhere for our waste?”
Morgan glared at him. “That is exactly what I am telling you. Tell me, do your people have a problem with being decent, and showing courtesy toward other denizens of Avalon?”
That silenced him and he gave a curt nod.
Aritza chuckled. “Is this because of that mermaid girl? I do believe she was the first person you ever liked in that way. Are you not letting your feelings get in the way of your decision-making?”
She turned the full force of her frustration on her Queen. “Nineveh watched her family and friends die by our hand and theirs,” she gestured toward Arthur, “for no good reason. This is about respect for Gaia’s other creatures. I should think the Queen would understand that.
“After all, you only took this position after your first love, Queen Emmalina, died of Pixie Pox.”
Aritza’s eyes went cold and she gave Morgan a patronising pat on the head. “I am merely concerned for the validity of your sincerity, my dear girl. I will ensure the waters are protected.”
Arthur nodded. “So will I, but I won’t have my kingdom punished if there is an accidental catch. There’s a difference, you know.”
Morgan let out a breath. “I am not stupid, Pendragon.” She turned on her heel. “Now, if you both will excuse me, I would like to assist the Medics in healing Merlin.”
She was halfway through the castle when one of the assistant Medics accosted her. “Miss Le Fay, what was that potion you made?”
His eyes were wide and shining in the mid-afternoon sun, and he looked half mad. Immediately, Morgan was worried.
“Why? It didn’t harm Merlin, did it?”
The Medic shook his head. “Master Gregori did an internal scan spell, and it appears that Master Emrys’ vocal chords are nearly repaired, his blood has thickened. No spell can heal internal injuries. And until now, no potion could mimic blood, either.”
Joy leapt into her heart. “I was on my way to visit him. Let’s not tarry, I wish to see the effects in person.” She walked quickly ahead of the assistant and made it to the infirmary in record time.
Merlin was not the only wounded to whom Master Gregori and his team had to attend, however he was the most injured. Broken limbs were one thing. A cut throat was another entirely. Pair that with poison … it didn’t look good.
“Miss Le Fay,” Gregori greeted, his long, white beard braided to be out of the way as he treated patients. “I do hope you will share your potion recipe with other magical academics.”
“That is my plan, sir,” she replied. “That one, and many others. How is Merlin?”
“See for yourself, Miss Le Fay.” Gregori gestured to the curtained off bed where Merlin lay in recovery.
Cautioning herself not to run, she opened the curtain to a most welcome sight: Merlin was sitting up with the aid of a few pillows, heavy-lidded eyes looking out the window. At her intrusion, he shifted his gaze and a slow smile crept across his still pale and drawn face.
“Morgan,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Eschewing any sort of decorum she had, Morgan rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him. He still felt cold, but not near death. Not even close.
“I am so relieved,” she said, pulling back to look at him. His cheeks were shadowed, as was the space below his eyes, but the eyes themselves sparkled, and he still smiled up at her.
Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, she took one of his hands in hers, relief rushing through her like adrenaline.
“Gregori told me … you saved my life,” he rasped out. “New brew?”
She nodded. “Two of them. Blood replenishing elixir. Universal poison cure. When I was little, Father once told me that love is the greatest motivator, be it love for a spouse, friend, kingdom. I suppose it must be true.” She blushed as she said it, but still met his eyes.
“I owe you my life,” he said. “Would you settle for my heart, Morgana Le Fay?”
She smiled and kissed his hand. “It wouldn’t be settling.”
* * *
A week later, Merlin was allowed to leave the hospital wing, and he and Morgan made the biggest decision of their lives: leaving the Coven confines.
There was a small town in Scotland that welcomed magicians, and they decided to move there. Morgan would continue her research and brewing, writing books and publishing recipes. Selling her potions to locals and hospitals as far as they could travel to obtain them.
Merlin would assist, as well as handle daily affairs for the small town, including ensuring they had enough food and clean water.
The last thing either of them wanted was to be known for the bloody battle against the humans of Camelot. They didn’t wish to frighten their new neighbors.
They ruminated on a name to place on their marriage certificate, once they did marry after arriving in their new town.
Their carriage stopped to rest the Peges in a larger city, and Morgan and Merlin stayed at an inn. Surprised to find themselves tossed out for not being married yet.
“Are humans absolutely mad, or am I being mean?” Morgan asked as the inn’s door slammed shut behind them.
“Mad, positively mad,” Merlin agreed. “We need a name, and we need one now, before we must sleep outside in the rain.”
Morgan held up her wand to make a magical umbrella and stalked away to the Peges, whose wings were tucked away and hidden from human eyes. Stroking them gently, she glanced around.
There was a French pastry shop, Saint-Claire Pâtisserie.
“Sinclair,” she said.
Merlin came and put his arm around her. “I like it, it has a nice sound. Let’s find another inn then, shall we?”
Morgan nodded.
This was just the beginning of their new lives, the lives of Morgan and Merlin Sinclair.
The End
* * *
Find out more about the Sinclair family in The Coven Series, available now!
About the Author
Lily Luchesi is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series. Her young adult Coven Series has successfully topped Amazon's Hot New Releases list consecutively. She is also the co-owner of Partners in Crime Book Services, where she offers a myriad of services alongside her business partner
Annie Smith, including editing.
She was born in Chicago, Illinois, where many of her stories are set. Ever since she was a toddler, her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things "dark". At two she became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is also an out member of the LGBT+ community.
When she's not writing, she's going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading comics. And drinking copious amounts of coffee.
She also writes contemporary books for adults as Samantha Calcott.
You can also sign up for Lily’s newsletter here, and receive a free ebook.
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The Paranormal Detectives Series
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WINTER INTENSIVE: MAVERICK REVEALED
The Corbett Files
Laurie Treacy
About Winter Intensive: Maverick Revealed
Salem Corbett wants nothing more than for her ‘gift’ of magic ability to show itself so she can be accepted into Waylandale Academy, the school for warlocks and witches. The last thing she expects to discover is the only world she’s ever known is filled with secrets and lies. When she meets a stranger offering the answers to her questions, she must decide exactly which world she wants and where she best fits in. Even if she is a touch wicked, can she be accepted?
Prologue
Covens aren’t just for witches and warlocks. When other supernatural creatures learned about secret communities like the Blackwater Coven—the one my family belongs to—thriving successfully amongst the humans, they decided to form their own.
Many supernaturals had tired of either being alone or constantly on the run. Living together with those who shared similar, if not the same, histories and basic beliefs was appealing. Better yet, to find acceptance, compassion, and peaceful coexistence—the very things these beings craved but hadn’t found over time—convinced any still undecided to choose the appropriate coven.
But there was a downside.
Charismatic speakers with agendas held sway over others. The popular voices grew stronger and louder, gathering more supporters and believers in their causes. Anyone expressing concern was silenced. Some disappeared over night.
What happened to these havens?
Nothing, if you believe the majority. But some remembered the discord. The ones who asked questions. The ones who supposedly simply left, went visiting, or abandoned their homes.
Over time some discovered these safe societies shared a secret.
I lived with the Blackwater Coven for seventeen years. That’s how long it took me to discover what this secret was and exactly how it would affect me.
Chapter One
“Try it again, honey. You’ll get it this time,” Dad murmurs for the thirtieth time today, his eyes super glued on my every move.
Through gritted teeth I eek out, “I’m try-ing,” and continue to stare at the white carnation deposited on the tabletop in the basement of my parents’ house. We’ve been at it for hours. The windows behind us revealed the afternoon sun had been replaced by the pinks and purples of evening.
From the strain of my concentration, a sweat convention has broken out across my forehead. Every time beads slipped down my face, new ones took their place. My index fingers swish-swiped like window wipers to keep the droplets out of my eyes.
Spellcasting is all about the focus.
My shoulders sore, my arms are fatigued from remaining in the same pose. I’m tired yet I try to keep my complaints to a minimum.
I am Salem Corbett, the only child of a Grand Witch and a Grand Warlock. My pedigree alone should have me sailing through these practices. Things have not exactly gone the way they should, but I’m no quitter.
I got this.
My mind clear, I stare at the petals and telekinetically emit my intention to change the petal colors crimson. There’s a slight tingle inside. Will this be the moment I awaken my powers?
“Honey, imagine it different.”
My concentration breaks. Whatever remained lurches off like a pricked balloon. My left eye starts to twitch. There’s a loud grumble from my stomach.
Dad stands across from me. My best friend, Remy, is to my right. The room has been divided into sections which make it Witch Central. There’s a library with desk and sofa, an altar and gathering area behind a glass half-wall, and the remaining space is an apothecary. Floor to ceiling cabinets are filled with supplies. Dried herbs and flowers hang from pegs attached to the industrial lighting above us. The scent of lavender wafts down. My favorite aromatic usually soothes me.
Not now.
These last two hours have stretched like two days. Loose hairs are plastered to my cheeks and neck. For the last two years these lessons have been my torment. Other kids come home from school and get to chill for a while. Not me. My parents expect me to spend up to three hours in here reading whichever books they assign, recite spells, and try to coax my ‘gift’ of magic to reveal itself.
Why? Our coven leaders believe each teen must work diligently to awaken their powers as soon as they can. Then they can begin planning their future career track within the coven network. Give back to our community. Will I have a high-ranking position like my parents? Or will I do something different?
Whatever my future may hold, with my seventeenth birthday quickly approaching, I’ve lost my patience. Gathering every ounce of my energy, I stare at the flower and will it.
Perspiration glides down my nose and lands directly on the mum. Nothing else happens.
Demand: Do it.
Do it.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
Doitdoitdoitdoitdoit.
Crickets.
So what else is new?
Beg: Change…please.
My pleas go unanswered. The tic in my eyelid increases.
But I won’t give up. I can’t. Even if I’m running out of time, the word ‘lose’ is not part of the Corbett vernacular.
Dad stares at me with the most inquisitive look. Seconds pass before a small smile brightens his features. “Take a break, Salem.”
I nod, inhaling while I rub my forehead.
“Let’s do something about that.” Without asking for help, Dad places his hands on either side of my head, his thumbs massage the space above my eyes.
Warm currents pass from him to me. Instantly, there’s relief. The annoying twitch stops. “Thank you.”
With a nod, he walks over to his desk to check for messages on his cell phone.
“That’s badass. So quick to heal.” Remy keeps his tone respectfully low as he gives me a water bottle. He’s already unscrewed the cap. We do little things like that for each other, have ever since we became friends back in elementary school.
“Thanks.” I sip.
“Don’t stress. Your magic will come when it’s time.” His face remains aglow like the fanboy he is. I marvel at how he’s still self-conscious around my dad. All of my friends are. I get it. My dad is nice, very cool, and a legend. A classic elemental, he can manipulate water and his specialization is ice. Dad can also heal, a rare ability in warlocks.
The cool liquid flows through my body, not only grounding but reenergizing me. Mom says I’m too hard on myself which is a Silva trait she blames on her family.
“I hope I can someday do what my parents do. Maybe I’m expecting too much,” As I gather my hair back into a new ponytail I look around at the hundreds of books. The candles. Crystals. Cauldrons. The huge desk map for scrying.
Everything a young witch needs to work her craft.
Maybe not? The sarcastic voice inside comments. Quickly, I silence her.
In the center of the room, displayed on antique podiums positioned behind bewitched glass panels sit the Corbett and Silva family grimoires. At the sight of those I cap the bottle and put it down to gaze over at their leather covers. Only those who share the blood and have been gifted with their magic can touch them. Otherwise, the protective spells will be activated.
I know. When I tried tapping the case, it zapped me. My fingertips hurt for weeks. Despite the burns, I long to turn those pages. To recite the spells previous generations have created, used, and perfected.
I don’t bother approaching the aged tomes.
Watching my inner battle, Remy whispers, “Want to talk it out?”
He knows me. I shrug, returning my attention to the task at hand. “Talk about what? My embarrassment at being the soon-to-be only seventeen-year-old in our coven who doesn’t have her magic?”
My dad talks to someone, agreeing to a short dinner meeting. Remy reaches out to console me with a shoulder rub but stops. “Everything will be okay.”
From underneath his open black hoodie I see the white shirt, along with the matching dark tie with its five black bands, a clear indicator of his final year at Waylandale Academy. The regulatory black trousers and boots complete his uniform. He must’ve come straight here from the coven portal.
The fact is you need to get through this, Salem. That thought reverberates loud and clear. Practice over and over, until something does occur, like my magic awakening.
“The variance spell is a beginner’s spell.” I run a hand over the open binder with my handwritten notes sitting inches away from today’s test subject. “Stare at something and want it changed. Turn the brown book cover pink. Simply pour your intent into making it happen. Easy. So they say.”
“A-hmm.” He folds his arms, waiting. “Did you know my mom’s gift came when she wasn’t expecting it?”
