by Lisa Rector
Chronicles of the
HALF-EMRYS
The complete series
Books 1-3
Master of Lies
The Two Masters
Master of Time
By Lisa Rector
Notable Figures & Pronunciation Guide
Places of Importance
Races and Species
To my fans
—Rise from obscurity and be not darkness.
Chronicles of the
HALF-EMRYS
Book 1 Master of Lies
A novel by
Lisa Rector
Master of Lies
Copyright © 2014 Lisa Rector
All rights reserved.
Second edition, 2016
This novel is Reader Rated (RR) for ages 14+ for mild sensuality and violence.
Cover design by Cindy Canizales
Cover photos by Shutterstock
Lost to the lies. Consumed by revenge.
Unaware of her immortal heritage, the truth concealed from her, Ahnalyn learns she’s a child of two worlds—a half-emrys with the ability to wield the light and the dark power. Aneirin, a Son of Light, has his own reasons for leaving the immortal dragon realm. Defying law, he risks exile and risks being tainted by the corrupt mortal world Ahnalyn is a part of.
As Aneirin’s life becomes entwined with Ahnalyn’s, he is certain that she belongs with the immortal emrys. But doubt and fear shroud Ahnalyn as the painful truths of her past unfold. Ahnalyn is thrown on a journey beyond her control, and she must sift through the lies to uncover her true self and true potential, before the darkness consumes her.
To Nathan
—for putting up with every crazy scheme I ever had, here to eternity.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Epilogue
PART I
LIES
CHAPTER ONE
DECISION
I need three days.” Shocked, Ahnalyn heard the words slip from her mouth.
She stood in front of Brenin, so close the individual freckles could be seen across his cheekbones. The wind rustled his umber curls, and his hazel eyes glinted in the sun. Brenin grinned, causing his eyes to crinkle around the edges. His unwavering regard flustered Ahnalyn, so she averted her gaze and looked beyond his ear into the meadow.
The day had shifted into evening, but the sky still held its brilliant blue light and billowing clouds. The grass and wild flowers swayed in the wind. Ahnalyn vaguely heard the sheep call as the wind whipped stray strands of hair across her face and batted her skirt against her ankles.
With her mind frozen from her sudden response and unable to grasp the repercussions of what she had uttered, Ahnalyn absentmindedly brushed the hair out of her face. “You’ll have your answer in three days.”
“Very well, Ahnalyn.” Brenin’s voice held a slight amusement, and his smile didn’t falter.
Rigid with unease, Ahnalyn’s stare remained blank. Her attention didn’t return to Brenin until he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She emerged from her thoughts and looked at him apologetically.
“Sorry.” She noticed the warmth and strength of his hand.
“An escort will arrive for you the third morning.” He leaned in and kissed her—a faint flutter—on the cheek. Brenin turned away, gently dropping Ahnalyn’s hand to her side. He slipped down the hill, fading into the sun’s glare.
What happened? Ahnalyn thought.
As she had done countless times in the past, Ahnalyn rubbed her fingers across the iridescent stone hanging from the leather cord around her neck. The smoothness reassured her.
Why did I tell him three days? Now he’s sending an escort, so sure of my response. I should have refused, but I suppose only a fool could dismiss such a life-changing offer.
Ahnalyn slumped to her knees, cradling her heavy head in her hands. The wind’s rustling in the leaves drowned out all but the relentless bleating of her flock. Eyes closed, she tilted her face to the sky, soaking in the sun’s radiance and feeling the breeze’s calm.
I don’t know if I should do this. Mother, give me your guidance.
A glimmer of flame blazed into Ahnalyn’s vision, and heat more powerful than the sun’s warmth rushed over her.
Don’t be afraid of the unknown, whispered a soothing voice in her head. This is a path you can trust.
No, Ahnalyn thought, flushed for a moment, although not the least bit alarmed by the familiar voice and vision in her mind. This is a path that will change my life forever.
***
The evening task of ushering the sheep into the paddock would not hasten. Ahnalyn secured the bleating throng in the pen and rushed across the shadowy yard to the modest cottage. She pushed the old wooden door open and welcomed the pungent scent of stew.
“Onion… my favorite.” Ahnalyn wiped her hands on her skirt while she crossed the room to give her father a kiss on a stubbly jaw. “Smells delicious.”
Her father huffed. “Same meal we had the night before.” Owein picked up a bowl to ladle stew into it.
Ahnalyn smiled. Her father was still a handsome man for his age, with a strong build matching his equally energetic spirit.
“Tad,” she said, calling him the endearment children used for their fathers. “I’ll do that. Sit. I have something to tell you.”
Owein surrendered the bowl into her hands, and she dished the contents of the pot into it. She passed it to her father and began filling one for herself.
“Do ya now? Might it have to do with that boy?”
“That boy? Tad, you mean that man. Brenin is a man.” Ahnalyn’s cheeks became hot, recalling the whisper of Brenin’s lips against her face.
“Still a boy in the eyes of a father. Don’t tell me it makes any difference with his upbringing.” Her father blew on a spoonful of stew.
Ahnalyn ruffled her father’s short hair. She sat at the table barely big enough for two, knocking her knee on the leg, and winced. Instead of picking up her spoon, Ahnalyn scrutinized her father’s face. His tan, leathery skin contrasted with hers, which never reddened in the sun and stayed as pale as the moon.
“He asked me to marry him.” Ahnalyn expected Owein to sputter and cough his food across the table. She was wrong.
Owein didn’t show any response. He lifted another spoonful to his mouth and took a careful sip.
Ahnalyn slapped the table. “Tad! Did you hear me? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Ahnalyn couldn’t believe he sat there emotionless. The man who had raised his only daughter, on his own, didn’t care she had been asked to marry someone!
Slow but sure, a smile curved on his mouth, showing unmistakable mischief. “I know.”
Ahnalyn shook her head. “What… you know? How’s that possible?”
“B
renin came to the house this afternoon before he met you in the meadow.”
Ahnalyn’s mouth hung agape. “He asked your permission?”
Owein stopped eating. “He most certainly did. It’s customary for the groom to ask for a maid’s hand, and don’t you think for one moment I’d let my daughter go off and marry some high and mighty lord without being a judge of his character. Why’s it such a surprise?”
Ahnalyn shook her head. “And what does your judge of character say?”
His eyes twinkled and the creases under them deepened. “Ahnalyn, my darling, don’t you think I’ve noticed the change in you over the past couple of weeks? When Brenin visits you in the meadow, you come home beaming with joy. How could I deny how you’ve been feeling especially after the long years of sadness you’ve been through?”
Shame swept over her. Long years of sadness indeed. Owein was referring to her angry outbursts because of guilt over her mother’s death.
A sigh escaped her lips. “How will you manage? What will happen to you?”
Ever since her mother died, they’d been a team. While her father took the sheep out to pasture, Ahnalyn cooked the meager porridge in the mornings and tackled the chores around the house. Midday, Ahnalyn brought her father a scrap of bread and resumed care of the sheep, while her father returned home to finish his chores and cook supper.
“I have it figured out. A maid from the village will come to cook and clean for me.”
“With what money? How’s that going to work?”
“Now Ahnalyn, don’t you think I’ve been pondering this for a while? Surely you didn’t think you’d live here forever? Someday you’d marry.”
“Tad, I don’t understand how it’ll work.”
Ahnalyn caught the confident expression on her father’s face. Suspicion brewed, and Ahnalyn narrowed her eyes. “How are you going to pay for help?”
“He asked me, Ahnalyn. Brenin asked me how I would manage without you, and I told him: if I had someone to do the housework, I’d be able to get along.”
She pushed her chair, with a horrid grating, away from the table. Her hands shaking, Ahnalyn stood. “Are you saying that Brenin is paying for it? Is that the price of him marrying me?” Impassioned tears stole down her face.
Owein stood and wrapped his arms around his daughter.
Brimming on the verge of a fit, Ahnalyn could feel the anxiety like a hammer to her heart. His crushing embrace calmed her as if absorbing her excess emotions.
“Brenin wanted me to live with you at the palace,” Owein said.
She hiccoughed against his shoulder and spoke, her voice muffled by his shirt. “He did?”
“I told him: what would I do? My life is here, not at the palace. I’m not made for finery and fancy trimmings. So we made an arrangement that would leave you free to decide what you want to do. Don’t you see? We’re trying to make this easy for you. But it’s your decision.”
Owein pulled back from his daughter and dabbed at a tear on her cheek.
“I don’t understand why Brenin would do this.” Ahnalyn sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“I do. I see more than you realize. Because of my understanding, I’m more than willing to give you away to be married. Brenin is a good man and worthy of you. Tell me true, Ahnalyn, you cannot deny the weight that is lifted when he’s near.”
Her shoulders relaxed, but her brow tightened. What did her father see? “True, Tad, you speak true.”
***
With silent tears running down her cheeks, Ahnalyn lay in bed that evening facing the wall.
I don’t know if I can do this. Leave everything I’ve ever known—leave Tad? Her body was tense, and Ahnalyn’s blood pounded in her ears, ringing in her head. This familiar feeling had, more often than not, overwhelmed her in the years since her mother’s tragic death.
Every day had stayed much the same as the days before her mother Niawen died, and in this way Ahnalyn could stay close—feel her mother in the breeze and in the sun’s heat. If she left her home, where the memories of her mother greeted her with every turn, would the bond they share fade? How could Ahnalyn leave what kept her so close?
Her pulse slowed, and her body relaxed as if guided by a soothing touch. Was this her mother’s way of saying everything would be all right and she should trust this new path?
Ahnalyn touched the round stone that hung around her neck and had been her mother’s. She liked how it shone with a rainbow of light, every move offering a different brilliance. Niawen had given her the stone with her dying breath. The instant Ahnalyn tied it on, she was reassured, as if her mother’s presence still lingered. This occurred the same time the visions and voices started, so Ahnalyn took it as a sign her mother was watching over her.
She asked her mother, Dare I leave my familiar pasture and start a new life?
Ahnalyn could have what anyone would dream of—except she had not. Until Brenin showed up and charmed his way into her life, she didn’t have any expectations or hopes beyond what already existed.
She was simpleminded in this, but simpleminded meant uncomplicated and sure.
The day Brenin laid eyes on Ahnalyn from across the rocky creek became a catalyst stirring Ahnalyn’s empty heart. He showed up from nowhere and became a welcome distraction to her somber spirit. He could make her laugh as she never had before.
Each day Brenin spent with Ahnalyn, she grew fonder of him. Her father was right. He did lift her spirits. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry Brenin.
She was afraid.
Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown. Ahnalyn rarely traveled from her home and village. The prospect of a new life overwhelmed her, but knowing her father supported whatever decision she chose gave her comfort.
What if I stayed here and didn’t accept Brenin? But Ahnalyn didn’t want to think about returning to her solemn days, mourning over her mother and wondering what life would be like if she were still alive. Brenin made her laugh—made her forget the pain.
In spite of the happy prospects, she couldn’t deny her darkest fear, which cast a shadow over the hopes this proposal promised.
The circumstances pertaining to her mother’s death were cloudy. Ahnalyn still didn’t know the truth, yet she felt it was somehow her fault. Her father assured her it was a terrible accident. It had to be an accident. Owein loved Ahnalyn, but his love couldn’t erase the helplessness she had inside. Anguish swallowed her, and her body betrayed her emotions as she thought of that night, trembling as if the danger were upon her again. But the memory was scrambled, shrouding those final precious moments with her mother.
Her mother had been taken away from Ahnalyn when she needed her the most. Ahnalyn feared she could have saved Niawen, if only she could remember. Why can’t I remember? The sorrow grew too much for Ahnalyn to bear. The tears flowed free in a cathartic release, easing her inner confusion.
This proposal changed everything. It promised hope and a beginning, one Ahnalyn would never forget because of tragedy.
Her mind was almost made up as her body relaxed.
The last image she saw as she drifted to sleep was a bright flame reflected in scarlet, catlike eyes. It sparked, and above the crackle, the voice spoke.
Courage, Ahnalyn, have courage.
CHAPTER TWO
CHASING HAPPINESS
Ahnalyn leaned against the doorframe of her tired, dusty cottage, watching horses approach from the distance. Lord Brenin was so sure she would accept his proposal that, true to his word, an escort arrived three days after their meeting. He must have sent the men the day he arrived home. They would have had to ride the entire day and camp nearby, only to rise early to be here at first light.
Pondering fate’s turn of events, Ahnalyn didn’t understand why Brenin happened to choose her pasture and her creek.
Brenin appeared harmless enough when they first met, except he startled her with his sudden appearance at the creek side. They developed a friendship over the following we
eks. Brenin shared what running a kingdom was like at such a young age since his father’s death. They had that in common at a tender age—the death of a parent.
Ahnalyn didn’t have much to share with Brenin, but they sat in the meadow with her sheep and laughed together like two old friends.
When did he think of this idea to marry me? She should have foreseen a proposal. What man would devote so much time to a young lady without some other intention?
Ahnalyn blushed. She was naïve.
From their afternoons together, Ahnalyn knew Brenin was a confident man, though not overly sure. He loved to smile, laugh, and enjoy a simple life. His eyes expressed a passion for life, and his untamable curls fell at his cheekbones, hinting at a wildly free spirit. When Brenin grinned, the creases around his mouth tried hard to be dimples but failed.
I could be happy with him. In the light of this new day, she could fall in love with Brenin. The thought made Ahnalyn’s stomach flutter.
Spewing a cloud of dust in its wake, the escort arrived at her door.
Ahnalyn clutched her father, heedless of the men’s looks. “I love you, Tad.” She savored the feel of her father’s arms around her and hoped it would be a short while until they met again.
“My dearest Ahnalyn, you are my treasure. I love you.” Owein squeezed her tighter and leaned into her. “If that boy doesn’t make you happy, he’ll have to answer to me.”
Ahnalyn laughed, but she had to swipe a tear away. What will I do without Tad?
After many quiet tears, Ahnalyn bid her father goodbye. She hoped the men, upon seeing the tears of such a youthful woman, wouldn’t judge her before they knew her. Praying she’d have the grace to stay on and not be a fool, Ahnalyn mounted a horse that seemed much too intimidating for her.
She had nothing but the clothes on her back, including the cloak around her shoulders, her father’s knife, and her mother’s necklace. She had no other worldly possessions worth bringing.