Queens of Wings & Storms

by Angela Sanders et al.

  Edrick climbed on the back of the second, and I behind him, nearly falling over from astonishment. Sister Cloris. The one elder who I’d thought hated me and sought my demise was now assisting in our escape and requesting I take my place as High Priestess. Mother had been right. A traitor was indeed among us, but I had been terribly wrong… Sister Cloris, although she wasn’t an easy witch to deal with at times, did, in fact, have the covens’ best interest at heart.

  After recovering from my momentary shock and seating myself comfortably on the eagle’s back, I could feel that Edrick was weak. “Not to worry, I won’t let you fall.” I stretched my arms around his waist, holding on tightly.

  “I know. That’s not who you are, Nova.” He raised one of my hands and kissed the back of it, and then placed it around his waist once more, while he held on to the eagle’s feathers.

  We took flight. The eagle stretched out his wings, and I wondered at its beauty. Its wings extended even further and glided across the sky, leaving the advancing soldiers to appear as little more than ants beneath us.

  With the odds against us, I wasn’t certain how we’d formed this bond—the witch and the dragon—or how we, this motley crew, were supposed to save the kingdom from what was now the most powerful of sorcery.

  If there was ever a time I would need to depend on that of the goddess, it was now.

  But it also left me wondering: if Aurora was capable of selling her daughter to be sacrificed for a price, what was her role in my mother’s death?

  ***This is not the end***

  This is a tester book as we discover new stories in the world Of Dragons and Sorcery. If you’ve enjoyed this story, connect with us and let us know! If it’s well received, book two will be Of Dragons and Treachery, the third, Of Dragons and Shadows. All of which will be released immediately after this set is taken down. So, please don’t be shy! Email us and let us know what you liked, disliked, or enjoyed the most. Tina and I would love to hear from you. (There will be more *dragons* in the following books!)

  For information on new releases, giveaways, and book-related everything, sign up for International Bestselling Author Angela Sanders’ newsletter and receive a free book to begin her Delphine Rising Series: http://subscribe.angelasandersbooks.com/u2w2v8_copy

  Angela Sanders website: https://angelasandersbooks.com/

  For information on new releases, giveaways, and book-related news, sign up for USA Today Bestselling Author Tina Glasneck’s newsletter and stay in touch! You’ll also grab the first in her well-received and bestselling series, The Hell Chronicles, titled, Hellish! : https://www.subscribepage.com/Hellish

  Tina Glasneck’s website: http://www.tinaglasneck.com/

  About the Authors

  Angela Sanders is an International Bestselling author of Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Urban Fantasy. She's a multi-genre author who also writes psychological thrillers and murder mysteries, her debut novel being, NEVER AGAIN.

  As a retired Navy Chief, wife, and mother, Angela lives in Kentucky where she enjoys writing, editing, reading, or all three.

  Her son is the key to her heart; he has the writing bug, wanting to be like his mommy when he grows up. She began her writing journey, first in the political world (yuck), and then left it all behind to explore the more fantastical world of fiction. She’s in love with all things magic, and, well, anything that goes bump in the night. With the help and support of several authors pushing her along, she published her first book in June 2017 and has been writing since.

  Tina Glasneck is a USA Today bestselling author of fantasy, myth, magic, and murder. She enjoys creating fantastical tales starring Norse gods, like Loki, Thor, Odin and Freyja, dragons, and magic. When she is not researching mythological creatures, legends, and folklore, she can be found discussing time travel, alternate history, and the epicness of all things dragons. One day she hopes to travel to Asgard and see what all the fuss is about.

  Tina is described as a "must read" by her fans, who say that "history seems to come alive as nothing in the past did for me before," and "holy cow, I cannot wait to read the rest of her books." Each book is a "fantastic story filled with history, mystery, wonder and time travel, "are "dense with character, detail, action, emotion, intrigue," and are "one journey you don't want to miss!"

  Freeing the Hamadryad

  By Claire Davon

  Chapter 1

  When the boy showed up on the roof, she was a tree.

  He hadn’t come from the access door. There was one key and her mother guarded it zealously. He couldn’t have gotten there from the fire escape—it stopped at the fifth-floor windows and didn’t extend to the top of the building. There was no way to climb up that she was aware of, she had checked all the spaces and the only access point was the stairs. It should have been impossible. Yet he was there.

  He paced through the planters full of flowers, herbs, and tomatoes. He gazed at the vines that twined through the arbor and the flowers that draped down.

  In her sixteen years of life, few besides her family had been up there. Most who lived in her mother’s building didn’t even realize it had a garden. She was curious about the teenager who had found his way up to this place. Nobody else had bothered—or dared.

  Hester, the old-timer who was one floor below them, told her there had once been a time when the roof was open to all the residents. But that had been before her mother had gone to Europe and came back with a Hamadryad sapling and planted her in the garden. After her mother carried the tree up to the rooftop, which had been a place of picnics and barbeques, it had become off limits to all. The former tenants grumbled, but after a while, they stopped fighting it. Over the last fifteen years, as she’d grown, they had forgotten until the one person who recalled that time, was a stout old woman who couldn’t climb up, anyway. Now this area belonged to her and her plant friends.

  In this form, Taimi rose to fifteen feet high, threatening to spill out of her large pot.

  Her human shape was much less, just a little over five feet of a still-growing adolescent. Taimi rustled her leaves and estimated it was another half hour until sunrise. The boy had better be gone before that time or he would be in for a surprise.

  She wasn’t sure she would mind that. He was attractive in a way: lean, thin, his pants a bit too short as though he were either making a fashion statement or had grown out of them and had yet to buy new ones. His floppy brown hair kept sliding over his forehead, and he pushed it back with a frustrated shove. She would have expected sweat on him as he had to have climbed to get on the rooftop, but there was no sign of any.

  Taimi rustled her leaves again. While she wasn’t mobile in this form, she had power over her branches.

  The boy studied her, his face a mixture of curiosity and fear. She shouldn’t be that strange. Lots of New York City rooftops had trees on them. In a city that couldn’t grow out, it was natural to grow up and bring some of the pleasures of nature with you.

  “Huh,” he said and patted her trunk. She rustled her leaves, the unexpected caress sending a strange sensation bolting down her tree form. “I wouldn’t have expected a dogwood. Birches and maples are more common.” He shook his head. “Rich folks. Putting gardens on roofs that we could use for other things.”

  He stepped back and turned away. Taimi dipped a branch toward him, stung by his dismissal. Something in him made her shiver. She had limited contact with people outside of school so it could be as simple as the fact that he was close in age to her. When her mother did allow company, it was with like-minded witches and warlocks, women and men who understood what Taimi was and helped her mother with her care.

  The boy put his hand on her trunk again, and Taimi had a sensation that was almost like he was patting her bare skin. She was rarely touched, both as a tree and as a person, and wasn’t sure what to make of this shivery feeling.

  His head swiveled toward the locked door to the staircase leading below. Footsteps. The sun was starting to come up and soon she would t
ransform. Her mother was coming to visit.

  The boy bolted for the back of the building. He disappeared behind a corner. Then there was the clang of metal as the latch squealed and the door began to open.

  Sorry for the loss of the boy, Taimi waited for her mother.

  That had been too close.

  Drawing the drapes closed against the rising sun, Ranger gulped in air until his heart slowed. Every nerve ending was alert from his near discovery. His aunt’s words came back to him: Nobody is allowed on the roof. It’s off limits. Be careful when you investigate.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, he had thought at the time. Rooftops in this urban jungle of New York City were one of the rare places where you could go and not be surrounded by people. He wished he’d had more time to explore. He should have gone earlier, but he’d had to gather up the nerve to risk the flight. The garden was about what he’d expected. Some trees, vines, herbs and flowers, pretty typical for the area. He missed the Queens apartment he’d been forced to leave, the way he could just loll about on the roof, unguarded and protected. Sometimes he could even shift, if he was careful.

  That was the whole reason he was here. His talent—and the tree.

  Ranger glanced at the clock. He needed to start getting ready for school. He flashed back to the garden, and that dogwood tree that was his mission in the middle. He ran his fingers over his palm, remembering the energy that had coursed through him when he touched it, like bursts of electricity running up his arm. It was a little scary and yet welcome at the same time. He had been almost grateful that someone was coming. A part of him had desired to climb up and learn what secrets the dogwood held, but it didn’t look like it could support his weight. Sitting on the branches of her might break them off. He wasn’t aware of what happened when you hurt a dryad’s tree.

  Ranger turned to the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast. Maybe he would take the train into Queens, visit friends, or find his secluded spot and stretch his wings. It was rare he had a chance to shift to his other form now that his home had been taken away, but those were the breaks. Life wasn’t fair. Blah blah blah blah blah. It was temporary, that’s what his parents said. He was there for a reason. The sooner he finished it, the sooner they could come back and he could go home.

  He needed to stop obsessing about stuff he couldn’t change. He would tackle one thing at a time and not worry about his dragon, or strange trees that made him think of brown-haired girls with moss green eyes. Rescuing her was tomorrow’s problem.

  “I brought you breakfast,” her mother said, setting down a bag from Cinnamon Girl. Taimi dug in the sack for her favorite sweet while the other woman plucked out a raisin bagel.

  Taimi stretched her neck, rolling it from one side to the other, feeling the small bones crack along her spinal cord. Sometimes she was ravenous when she returned to being human. Other days she’d absorbed enough energy from the moon through her leaves that her appetite was nonexistent.

  “Thanks, Mom,” she managed and snatched up the croissant.

  She was dying to go and check the computer for the night’s events.

  They ate in silence for a moment. Her mother—although she wasn’t her mother, of course, but she was the only one Taimi had—regarded the area and Taimi wondered if she suspected something.

  She could ask her mother about the mysterious boy who had trespassed on the rooftop, but in the end, she didn’t. She should tell her, but a strange reluctance to do so kept her silent.

  “How…” Taimi stumbled over the word, still adjusting to human speech. “How was your night? Anything interesting happening?” That was safe enough.

  Her mother took a sip of her iced coffee. “Nothing too unusual. Hester was complaining about the laundry facilities. Lizzy has a boy staying with her, and he took up the washer and dryer for hours. She was very upset. Told me to do something about ‘that child.’”

  Taimi was barely able to control the thrill at learning the boy who had visited her was staying in the building. It had to be him. Normally her mother was stingier with facts, leaving Taimi to search them out on the Internet. She took another bite of her croissant and strove for an innocent countenance.

  “I didn’t think Lizzy had any kids. You never mentioned any.”

  At thirty-five, if Melinda had been her mother, she would have been young when she had Taimi. She showed few effects of aging, with just a handful of lines and a slight lack of tension to her skin. She still moved like a teenager and there was no grey in her hair. Of course that could have been hair dye, but when Taimi was left alone in the apartment, she hadn’t turned up any evidence of such. She always knew the locked cabinet was where Miranda stored her witch gear, but there could be beauty supplies there as well.

  “She doesn’t have any. This boy is her nephew. He needed a place to stay and came here.” She sniffed, a clear sign of disapproval. “Lizzy didn’t ask me, just moved him in. I will tolerate it for now—she is a good tenant, but I am not sure I will allow it to stand.”

  Her mother had tried to homeschool her, but it caused problems. She’d let Taimi go to the local public school, although Taimi had a compulsion not to discuss her tree self. She had experienced the classrooms bursting full of kids, and recess, all the normal stuff of a teenage girl, except she had to come straight home afterward. In a class as large as hers, it wasn’t hard to be anonymous. It would be nice to have some company other than her mom and the occasional witch. Someone like…Lizzy’s nephew.

  She shut that thought down before it could go anywhere. Her mother said she had little ability to read minds, but Taimi couldn’t be sure that was true.

  She remembered when Child Protective Services had visited, tipped off by a former tenant, perhaps someone who was suspicious of Taimi’s nocturnal whereabouts. It was one of the rare occasions she had been spelled out of her other form in the nighttime. Moonlight upon skin and not her leaves and bark had been an unfamiliar sensation to her. Her mother had kept her in human form until CPS finished their investigation. By then, she had become used to the feel of the city at night. Without her cooperation, Miranda had warned, they could take Taimi away and then what would happen to her when she turned into a tree at sunset? Once CPS had gone, the brief respite was over, and she had to return to being a teenager by day and a tree by night.

  Memory of a pair of brown eyes flashed before Taimi’s mind. She schooled her face to show no reaction.

  She hoped he would visit again soon.

  The boy flopped down on the bench and stretched out his sneaker-clad feet. He rested his head on the back of the seat and sighed.

  She used her leaves and branches to “see” in the direction of the stairs, but the door was just as closed and locked as it always was. How he had gotten up there was as much of a puzzle as ever.

  He stared up at the tree with a troubled air. She bent a branch toward him, feeling compassion swell within her at his obvious distress. He let out another sigh and continued to gaze straight up.

  “God damn it,” he said in a low voice. The other plants rustled.

  If she were human, she could reach out to this strange boy and try to find out what was bothering him. Once upon a time, when she was younger, she had struggled against her restrictions. She had asked her mother why she had to be a tree every night, and why couldn’t she be a girl at least some of that time? Her mother had retaliated by keeping Taimi in her Hamadryad form for over a week, until her spirit had been broken. She had never raised the question again. Sometimes, when she was asking too many questions, her mother hinted she could be spelled for months…years…or forever.

  She heard a noise on the air and lifted her leaves, which served as her vision in this form. The sound came again, not from the boy, but from the high-rise that loomed over them. It sighed on the wind like a half-remembered song, just low enough so she couldn’t grasp it.

  The teen shifted in the direction of the noise, scanning the horizon. His body was tense, and he shot a glance toward the door. The so
und came again: the rustle of leaves and the creak of branches. It was strong, urgent, as though something was trying to get their attention.

  But that made little sense. Her mother had told her all other Hamadryads were on another continent. She said there weren’t dryads in New York, and since Taimi had never encountered any, she had to believe her.

  “Sucks,” her visitor said, rising and shoving his hands in his pockets. Then he went around the corner and was gone.

  Ranger’s aunt came in, banging the door behind her while holding a grocery bag from the local Duane Reade. She set it on the counter and exhaled.

  “Did you do as I asked?”

  He nodded, wishing he’d just gone up to the oasis to get away from things. Instead of being a spy. Sure, there were lots of crazy things in this world, but a tree that was a girl?

  “I did,” he said, taking the groceries out of the bag and putting them in the refrigerator in the pass-through kitchen.

  “What did you discover?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t share his experience up there, sure that she would think him weird. But he couldn’t think fast enough to cover a lie, and he couldn’t not tell her anything.

  “It’s a tree. A dogwood. It’s a nice tree, and it’s one of those overpriced rooftop gardens.” He glanced at his aunt, who was too young to be called auntie, but at thirty was ancient compared to him. “You sure there’s a girl there?”

  His aunt gave him a stare reserved for morons and fools. “We are sure. It’s why I…persuaded…the last tenant of this apartment to leave five years ago. We’ve been waiting ever since but haven’t found a way to get up there. Not without the witch finding out. You’re different. You don’t get up by human means.”