Primeval Prelude: Book 4 in the Spellsinger Series
Page 34
The horse tensed and pranced anxiously.
“You left him somewhere alone. Now, the least you can do is show me where,” I chided him.
Bayard took off into the woods.
Over an hour later, I realized that we were on a road that I had never traveled before. It was overgrown, but not to the point of being inaccessible, just enough to make it clear that this was not a path often chosen. Then Bayard stopped.
There was a break in the trees, and through it, I could see a magnificent castle.
“Oh dear God,” I whispered. “It's like Theo said; a hidden castle. Is that where father is, Bayard?”
The horse whinnied.
“Then let's go.”
Bayard stamped and turned in a circle, refusing to go any further. Finally, I gave up, and left him there, making my way up a stone paved path toward the massive castle. As soon as I was out of the forest, the land opened up into manicured lawns and manicured gardens. A whole team of gardeners would be needed to maintain these grounds, but there wasn't a soul in sight. I looked down at my arms and saw the hair on them standing on end. Something wasn't natural here.
Even though the sun shone down brightly, and the castle gleamed as if it were freshly polished, I felt a heavy pall in the air; a sadness hanging over it all. I shivered and rubbed my arms as I hurried up the stone steps to a curved set of wood doors. I knocked because that's the polite thing to do, but no one answered. Instead, the door swung open all on its own, and I stood within the arch of it, staring at a curving staircase. Doors to either side of the entry were open to reveal vast rooms, but there was no one in them.
“Hello?” I called out. “I'm sorry to intrude, but I'm looking for my father, and I think he may be here. Hello? Is anyone there?”
A clink sounded down a hallway to the right of the stairs. I followed the sound and came to a kitchen. No one was there. Another clatter led me to an open door near the pantry. I peered in and saw a set of stairs leading down into the dark.
“Too dark for anyone to be down there,” I muttered to myself.
Torches burst into flame, illuminating a stone stairwell which curved out of sight.
“Like that wasn't at all creepy,” I huffed.
I would have left at that point, but my father was in that castle somewhere, I could feel it in my bones, and I wasn't about to abandon him. I headed down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, I found a row of prison cells. Solid doors blocked my view of the cells, but they were each set with small windows near their tops, barred by iron.
“Father?” I called out.
“Sylvaine?” My father's shocked voice came from one of the cells. “Sylvaine is that you?”
“Father!” I snatched a ring of keys off the wall and ran toward the sound of his voice. “I'm here! Bayard brought me.” I unlocked his door and rushed into my father's arms.
“Oh, Sylvaine,” my father sobbed. “You shouldn't have come. In fact,” he pushed me away, “you need to leave immediately.”
“The hell I will,” I growled.
“Brave,” a deep voice noted from the doorway.
“Or maybe just stupid,” another rumbly voice added.
“Leave her be!” My father cried and pushed me behind him. “She has done nothing wrong. I am the one who took your damn rose.”
“Rose?” I asked.
“Your father is a thief,” a third voice, slightly softer than the other two, said. “We caught him stealing one of our prized roses. Thieves must be punished. At least, that's what Lancelot says–” His voice was cut off by a muffled thump.
“Over a rose?” I huffed. “I'm the one who asked him for a rose; you should punish me.”
“Sylvaine!” Father snapped. “I will handle this.”
“Father, you need to get home,” I said sternly. “Bianca and Anne will not be able to survive without you.”
“You can–”
“What?” I asked. “What could I do to support us?”
“More than I do,” he huffed. “We lost another cargo. I know you know about the ships, Sylvie. We are ruined.”
“Our family does not give up,” I snapped. “You're going to go home and figure this out.” I shoved him toward the door.”
“Listen to her,” one of the voices said, “she thinks she's in charge.”
“He's a merchant,” I growled at the shadowy shapes in the doorway. “What do you want with him when you could have a young, able-bodied woman? I can cook or clean, things he can't do for you.”
“Come into the light,” the first voice demanded.
I eased forward and heard three sharp intakes of breath.
“Brave and beautiful,” one of them whispered.
“Fools,” another said, “she's not the one.”
“What's the harm?” The third said. “Let her stay. Let him leave. It matters not.”
“I am not leaving!” My father declared.
“Yes, you are,” I pushed him out into the corridor.
“You heard her,” one of the low voices said. “It's time to go.”
I came out past the glare of the torches just as a clawed hand reached for my father. I launched myself at the thing before me, the one about to attack my father, but was grabbed from behind. As I flailed against my captor, my father was dragged away by something that looked ...
“Half man and half beast,” I whispered.
I swiveled my head around to peer at the person that held me and found something similar. Shaggy hair framed a fur-covered face. The fur was sleek and flowed over a muscular body. Large, liquid eyes stared at me, full of sorrow and pain. They were set above a wide, flat nose that would have looked right at home on a lion. This nose flowed down into an upper lip that was thick like an animal's muzzle, but then it transformed into human-shaped lips. The beast opened his odd mouth, showcasing sharp canines, and spoke.
“Be at ease; we will not hurt you.”
“I'm more concerned about my father,” I said calmly.
His eyes widened, and he carefully put me down on my feet.
“Your father will be escorted off the property,” he murmured. “My brother will not harm him either. We're not completely animals.”
“Animals behave better than humans anyway.” I crossed my arms and considered him. “It's true, isn't it? The story of the beastly princes. And you're one of them.”
“There's a story about us?” He crossed his own arms to mirror my stance, and I noticed that he was dressed in fine clothes.
“So, you need to make a woman fall in love with you, huh?” I asked.
“Dear God, you are a blunt one.”
“And you're a furry one.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled, then looked shocked. “I don't remember the last time that I laughed.”
“Well, it's probably this whole having to find a woman to want you thing,” I suggested. “What happens if you don't, by the way? I stopped reading. Honestly, I thought it was a load of rubbish.”
“If only it were. If we don't find love, we stay like this forever,” he waved a paw over his body.
“That's not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” He snarled. “I'm hideous.”
“You kind of look like a loup garou,” I pointed out. “With a little predator cat thrown in. Interesting.”
“A loup garou?”
“A werewolf.”
“You believe in werewolves?” He asked.
“And you don't?” I looked him over pointedly.
“Yes, well spotted,” he huffed.
“The man has been escorted to his horse,” one of the other two beasts said as they both returned. “She isn't fighting?”
“She's quite reasonable,” the first one said. “And she knows about the curse.”
“She knows about it?” The third beast asked, coming forward to face me. “You know?”
“Yeah, but I'm not your girl,” I said. “I'm not into the idea of having multiple lovers. I'm looking for th
e one, my true mate.”
The second beast choked and started to cough.
“Perhaps we could change your mind.” The second one smiled, and it appeared to be very wicked, though that could have just been his face.
About the Author
Amy Sumida is the Internationally Acclaimed author of the Award-Winning Godhunter Series, the fantasy paranormal Twilight Court Series, the Beyond the Godhunter Series, the music-oriented paranormal Spellsinger Series, and several short stories. Her books have been translated into several languages, have made it to the top seller's list on Amazon numerous times, and the first book in her Spellsinger Series won a publishing contract with Kindle Press.
She was born and raised in Hawaii and brings her unique island perspective to all of her books. She doesn't believe in using pen names, saving the fiction for her stories. She's known for her kick-ass heroines who always have a witty comeback ready, and her strong, supporting male characters who manage to be sensitive and alpha all at once.
All she's ever wanted to do since she was a little girl, was to write novels. To be able to do so for a living is a blessing which she wakes up thankful for every day. Beyond her books, she enjoys collecting toys, to keep herself young, and cats, to keep herself loved.
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