by Laynie Bynum
“If you mess up, Virgie, I shall punish you.”
Before I could respond, the door unlocked and sprang open, and Nina fell into a low curtsy. “Lord Steinberg,” she announced and retreated.
Sweat ran down my nape, and I practically collapsed in relief as the tall man in a black suit, with salt-and-peppered hair and a three-day beard entered. My master.
Amber quickly shuffled to hide the whip in her handbag, making the motion appear to be her adjusting her skirt. Lord Steingerg glanced quizzically between his sister and me. “What are you doing here, Amber? I thought you meant to depart last night for Europe.”
I blinked. If Amber wasn’t supposed to be here, did that mean that Griffin didn’t know what his sister was trying to do to me? If he hadn’t organized it, then…No, I couldn’t tell him. Most likely, he was in denial of his sister’s sexuality and would accuse me of making up the story or worse, tempting her to cheat on her husband. Rule one in the vampire world was that fae took the blame. Always.
“I decided to stay a few days longer. I told my pilot to wait at the airport. I miss the U.S.” Amber tugged on her pearl necklace.
Steinberg nodded, emotionless. “If that is what you want, Amber, you are welcome to stay.”
No love lost between those two. As far as I knew, Steinberg had seen his sister about twice since she’d arrived. My heart sank as I considered all the opportunities Amber would have to be alone with me in the next few days. The urge to run out of the room overcame me, but I remained rooted. Panicking would not help me.
“For now, I must ask you to leave me and Virgie alone.” Steinberg moved closer.
Amber shook her head, as if she couldn’t comprehend her brother’s words. Why did Griffin want to be alone with me? Would he blame me for his sister’s queerness? Maybe he had figured it out in the past thirty seconds.
“Certainly, you can say whatever you must in front of me, Griffin,” Amber protested once she regained her ability to speak.
Griffin jerked his head no. “This is sensitive information. You must forgive me, but since you are not part of this household, I must ask you to leave.”
“Very well.” Amber huffed and smoothed her pencil skirt, shooting me a hateful look, as if this was my fault.
When the door fell shut behind her, Steinberg walked over to the settees and motioned me to follow him. I sank into the velvet seat facing him. Sweat returned to my nape as I studied my master’s dark eyes and the tension that lived there.
“I assume you’ve heard the guards talking about the recent demolition of Nocturnal Academy.”
I nodded, forcing myself to sit still and keep a neutral expression on my face. My former school had been destroyed by a group of fae soldiers from the faeland who’d taken the freed fae students somewhere unknown. Rumors had it that Peony, an old friend of mine, had helped in the demolition, which put me under suspicion through association.
“There’s been a lot of changes recently in our world,” Steinberg continued.
I nodded again, heart in my throat, not daring to speak. I’d supplied Onyx, another former schoolmate, with information of Lord Vulthus’ whereabouts. Vulthus was the most despicable of the vamps and also an enemy of Steinberg. I’d assumed that Steinberg would be happy about Vulthus’s death, leaving me safe. What I hadn’t planned for was that Thorsten, Steinberg’s heir, would kill Vulthus and thus inherit Vulthus’ estate. Only made a few years earlier by Griffin, Thorsten was now a master vampire, unheard of given his young age. It meant Griffin and Thorsten now each had a seat in the Elites and thus more power, but it also gave Thorsten more independence. And while Griffin was mild by vampire standards, he was old school. Thorsten wasn’t. Rumors flew that he didn’t treat the fae he’d inherited from Vulthus like slaves and even paid them.
If Griffin ever discovered that I had helped Thorsten gain his independence, he wouldn’t be happy. Steinberg’s other heir Jason had turned out to be a disappointment and with Steinberg being over five hundred years old, he desperately needed an heir to be taken seriously by the Elites.
“Hopefully, the order will be restored soon.” Steinberg’s low voice tore me back into the present. Panic ran through me. He had been speaking for the past few minutes. How much had I missed? Since I couldn’t ask him to repeat himself, I simply nodded, and he continued. “The vampires, the fae...everything is shifting. I’m glad I made arrangements on how to deal with this new situation a while ago.”
Worry gripped me, and I seized the arms of the chair. What was Steinberg talking about?
Steinberg rose, signaling that the conversation was concluded. “Go to your room and pack your things immediately, Virgie. I have made arrangements for you to be transported.”
Panic shot through me. “Where will I be taken?” I no longer cared if Steinberg punished me for being out of line. If he was reselling me, I needed to know to whom.
Steinberg shook his head, expression unreadable. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t know. I jumped to my feet, black dots dancing in front of my eyes at the sudden movement. “But—”
“What is done is done,” Steinberg said calmly and opened the door of the sitting room where a vampire guard in a black uniform was waiting, ready to escort me to my chamber.
I moved, my body as heavy as lead. If Steinberg didn’t know where my new owner would take me, the situation was very dire. He must’ve sold me to a vampire who was as horrible as Vulthus. Did Vulthus have any family? A vengeful brother or cousin? Vampire law didn’t oppose one vampire killing another one, but someone always paid. And this time, it would be me.
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About Margo Ryerkerk
Margo Ryerkerk is the author of several fantasy series and has reached multiple times bestselling status with her novels on Amazon. Her YA Paranormal and fairy retelling series focus on magic, love, and adventure.
After completing a BS in Psychology, a MS in Marketing, and a two-years stint in the fashion world, she became a full-time author and can’t believe she gets to spend her days creating stories. When she’s not writing, she loves to read, travel, and dance to pop anthems.
Raised in Austria, Margo now lives in the USA with her husband and her Pomeranian.
To hear about newest releases and receive two free short stories, please sign up to my readers group. (I will never share your personal details and will only notify you periodically about new releases, sales, freebies, giveaways, and bonus content.)
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Other works by Margo Ryerkerk
FAE PRISON ACADEMY SERIES
Reluctant Fae, Book 1
KINGDOM OF FAIRYTALES SERIES
Kingdom of Fairytales: After ever after - a Kingdom of Fairytales Prequel
Queen of Song: A Cinderella Retelling (Kingdom of Fairytales Cinderella Book 1)
Heiress of Melody: A Cinderella retelling (Kingdom of Fairytales Cinderella Book 2)
Throne of Symphony: A Cinderella retelling (Kingdom of Fairytales Cinderella Book 3)
Goddess of Harmony: A Cinderella Retelling (Kingdom of Fairytales Cinderella Book 4)
THE DARK LEGACY SERIES
Dark Legacy, Book 1
Mirror Sacrifice, Book 2
Spirit Snatcher, Book 3
Phoenix Call, Book 4
Phoenix Unleashed, Book 5
THE CURSED FAIRY TALE SERIES
The Nutcracker Curse
The Bluebeard Curse
The Hansel and Gretel Curse
Click here for Margo Ryerkerk’s Amazon page.
Facebook: Margo Ryerkerk
Goodreads: Margo Ryerkerk
Email: [email protected]
Instagram: MargoRyerkerk
About Holly Hook
Holly Hook is the author of the Cursed Academy books, which has been completed as of November 15th, 2019 and the Alpha Legacy series, a 7-book YA paranormal romance. She is also the author of the Destroyers Series, the Barren Tri
logy, the Flamestone Trilogy, and the Twisted Fairy Tale series, among others. She lives with two obnoxious cats.
To hear about newest releases and receive a free short story, please sign up to my readers group. (I will never share your personal details and will only notify you periodically about new releases, sales, freebies, giveaways, and bonus content.)
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Click here for Holly Hook’s Amazon page.
Contact: [email protected]
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Fallen Suun by J.A. Culican
Falling Suun © copyright 2018 J.A. Culican
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. Trademark names appear throughout this book. Rather than trademark name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.
The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities or resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editor: Frankie Blooding
Cover Artist: Christian Bentulan
Dragon Realm Press
www.dragonrealmpress.com
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
Onen Suun stepped over a corpse in brown armor, though he could easily have gone around. That warrior and his kind were the reason so many of his white-clad, pure warriors were dead, scattered across the broad valley’s grassy floor.
Another warrior, this one in white, moaned not far from him. A spear stood upright, rammed through the soldier’s belly. He couldn’t leave a loyal soldier to die a slow death, not when he could prevent it.
Onen scanned the grisly battlefield as he approached, still wary of enemies. Very little else moved on that ugly battlefield covered in so many dead. Satisfied, he knelt beside his mortally wounded soldier and forced himself to smile. "This will hurt. Stay still, friend."
The soldier groaned, but closed his eyes tightly. “Yes, my lord.”
Onen gripped the spear shaft with one hand and held his other, palm down, over the wound. Settling his thoughts and pushing away the horror of so many lost in one battle, he focused on the wound, and visualized an energy moving through him, from his head and down his arm, into his hand, and out over the soldier’s slashed belly. Energy poured from him in a faint, golden glow. He imagined it covering the wound, finding its way into every cut and around every torn fiber of muscle, tendon, bone...
Soon, the flowing blood slowed and then halted altogether. With one jerk, he removed the spear with a spatter of crimson, and the faint glow flowing between his level palm and the wound flared, the light becoming brilliant for a single moment.
It was done.
"Thank you, Great Suun.” The loyal soldier coughed once, then propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his new scar. “I don’t deserve such an honor."
Onen smiled, this time with genuine warmth. "Of course, you do. You fought to the end, earning a place by my side forever. For now, though, rise and search for other survivors. Spare no mercy on the enemy if you find any alive. They certainly didn’t spare any for you."
The white-clad warrior pulled himself to his feet, bowed with his left fist over his chest, and turned away.
Onen grimaced. There were many wounded who still lived, at least for the moment, but there were too many to save them all. For the rest, their time was like an hourglass running low, its sand their blood. If he could, he would have saved them all. Instead, they’d live on only in bad dreams that brought this terrible day back.
Curse the evil one, Dag'draath. This was supposed to be Onen's big win, and the beginning of the end for the enemy.
All around him, the valley’s lush grasses and brushes wilted in the afternoon heat. The once-verdant trees dotting the valley were now tinged brown. It matched his mood.
Onen set down his shovel, the remnants of his army sweating in the sun with him, most bearing new scars that would glow faintly in the dark for the rest of their lives—the mark of Onen's power, etched into their skin where he'd healed their wounds.
There were depressingly few of them left, not enough for the core of an army. It would take time to raise a new one, but for the moment, he busied himself preparing his dead for their ceremony, while his surviving army stacked their dead in the neat, precise pattern that would help them on their upcoming journey. Not far away, between three large stone outcroppings, the enemy dead were also stacked, but like cordwood. They deserved no purifying fire to send them off to the next stage, and Onen was happy to let their souls wander forever, denied to Dag’draath. They deserved it, and no better.
A warrior appeared at Onen’s side with a bucket of water and a ladle. "My lord Suun, you shared our toil. Now, share our water. You have to be thirsty."
”Thanks,” Onen said, smiling politely. He didn't really need the water, but he could feel the man's deep need to share, to help. Making such a man into a soldier, a killer... It was yet another injustice brought into the world by Dag’draath and his mad quest for power, and another debt Onen swore to repay his enemy.
Onen wiped his mouth and put the ladle back into the bucket. When the soldier didn’t move on, though, he stopped and turned to look at the man.
Shifting from one foot to the other, the soldier said, "I don't want to overstep my place, my lord."
Onen sighed. A good leader took advice where he found it, but it was up to him whether to follow it. "Go ahead. What’s on your mind?"
"After what happened here today, we need time to raise more war banners. The closest realms to the south would make a good buffer, buying us that time, if you could somehow convince them to join us in their own defense."
The nameless soldier had a point. Unless he could negotiate a peace with the south realms, Dag’draath would simply harvest them, too, and it would give him another fresh army, and soon. “I'll think on it. Thanks for suggesting it."
The water-bearer left to tend to others, leaving Onen alone with his thoughts. The realms to the south weren't Dag’draath true-believers, but they’d joined up with him, giving lip-service to avoid…
Well, to avoid suffering the same thing that had just happened to Onen and his army. They could likely be convinced, with the right help, but it wouldn’t be easy.
For that, he'd need magic. The kind he did not possess.
Fortunately, the one person who did would gladly come to his aid.
He stepped away from the warriors and drew his dagger, shining blue in the sunlight. It was crafted of Gleetstone, named after the blue moon that remained in the southern sky and was visible day and night. The moon was the source of the expression "common as a blue moon." The Gleetstone was the source of the dagger’s power.
He drew a shallow cut across his palm and concentrated hard to prevent the wound from healing as quickly as he could cut it. It took a bit of will, but he let his blood well up and fall to the ground. His blood formed a perfect circle, within which a misty sphere formed.
"Savarah, come to me," he whispered. Then, he tossed in a sprig of yarrow and watched as it turned to ash, the smoke blending with the mist.
As soon as he stopped concentrating, the cut closed up as though it had never been, and he returned to conducting rites for his dead. Forever sending off the dead, that's what war mostly was.
Onen stood in the center of where he’d burnt his deadin a mass ceremony, the only marker for the passing of so many lives. He and his surviving troops hadn't had time for individual rites, but it had been consecrated nonetheless.
Had his real reason for laying out his dead now, rather than later, been so he could summon Savarah? She could go anywhere in the world, with her magic, but only to where the barriers between life and death were weakest. Otherwise, he'd have had to travel to her, and that was hardly possible while leading an army. Dag’draath and his spreading corruption wouldn’t wait for Onen to handle personal business.
He doubted himself for a moment, but shoved the thought aside.
A woman's rich, sultry voice interrupted his thoughts, calling to him from behind, her voice floating over the still battlefield. "Onen Suun. I should have known it was you. Had I known, I'd never have come."
Onen’s knees trembled as he fought the urge to rush to her, to embrace her, to wrap her in his arms and leave that place of death. She had betrayed him by finding love with another. "Savarah. Thank you for coming. I’m sure you knew I was the one who called you. Of all people, you know me best."
"Or so I thought. I wish I had known you better, else I would not have given my heart to you. Betrayer. Tell me what you want, so I can spit in your face and leave."
Onen narrowed his eyes at her as he cocked his head, confused. "I never betrayed you, and you know it. You turned away from me, not the other way around. It’s why I called to you. We need to talk about what happened and why you left."