The Moon Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

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  Read on for an excerpt from the next book in the series, The Star Witch

  The Star Witch

  Living high in the imperial palace, Isadora had barely felt the passing of winter. Thick walls, well-fed fireplaces, and luxurious clothing and blankets kept the residents of Level One quite comfortable—even the witch whose duty it was to care for the Empress Liane and her unborn child.

  Unborn children, to be precise. Twin boys, though no one knew that but Isadora and the empress herself. The Emperor Sebestyen would be furious when he found out that his wife was carrying two sons, rather than one. It would muddy the imperial bloodline to have two heirs born at almost the precise same moment.

  Spring was coming. On occasion Isadora would open the window of her small room and breathe in the warming air as if it fed her soul. She was tired of this damned palace. Tired of the people and the chores and even the luxury.

  But until she was strong again and could find her sisters, this was her place. Liane needed her. She had pledged to protect the empress and her children, but once the babies arrived, there would be no reason to stay.

  The strength of her magic had begun to return slowly, but with a certainty she felt to the depths of her soul. The destruction of the past several months had depleted her powers; it was only through protection that the magic grew strong again. On his final visit to her, the spirit of her late husband had told her that she must choose. Dark or light. Goodness or evil. For a long time she had danced on the edge of both, but one could not live forever in that gray domain.

  There were times when she believed that destruction came to her more naturally than protection, but in order for that power to grow she would need to embrace it fully. Over the years her sisters—and her beloved Will, before and after his death—had kept the protective side of Isadora’s nature alive and thriving. They were not here, now.

  She could not believe that Juliet was dead, as Bors had reported before his death at the emperor’s hand. Sophie might be safe in the company of her husband, but still, she would need her sisters again. Juliet had said as much on the night the soldiers had kidnapped them and burned the cabin that had stood for more than three hundred years. Where her sisters were concerned, Juliet was rarely wrong. Rarely, not never.

  Isadora knew she could not remain in this place. With the coming of spring, the return of her magical strengths, and the birth of Emperor Sebestyen’s heirs, would also come the time for Isadora Fyne to leave this dreadful place.

  Standing at the window of her quarters on Level One, Isadora closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the air. It was the first truly warm day of spring, and she longed to be out of this palace, away from the crowded city of Arthes, away from all these people who were not her own.

  She longed to be on Fyne Mountain, surrounded by the land she loved and close to her sisters. They would rebuild the cabin Emperor Sebestyen’s soldiers had burned to the ground, and things would be as they had once been. Sophie would cook and sing and smile and embrace the world around her. Juliet would tend the gardens and treat those women who were brave enough to seek out a healer who was also a witch. And Isadora would protect her sisters with every ounce of power she possessed.

  On Fyne Mountain she could care for her sisters, and live in isolation, and mourn the husband who had been gone so long.

  Will’s spirit had not visited her in months. She expected him to be true to his promise and never visit her again, which meant he was finally truly gone. In the past few months, Isadora had been thrown into a new type of mourning. She’d buried Will’s body years ago; now she had to bury his spirit just as deeply.

  It was harder than she had imagined anything could ever be.

  “Isadora.” The breathless voice came with the opening of the door to the tiny room she now called home.

  Recognizing the voice, Isadora turned slowly and glared at the intruder. Mahri’s eyes widened. She backed into the hallway, closed the door solidly, and knocked.

  “Come in,” Isadora said.

  Again, the door swung open. “I’m sorry,” the young girl said. “I forgot. The Empress Liane wishes to speak with you. Now.”

  Isadora sighed as she headed for the doorway. She was quite sure Liane had never been gifted with patience, but becoming empress had only exacerbated the failing. Pregnancy had not softened the empress. Instead, she grew more strident and demanding with every passing day. Liane expected her orders to be obeyed immediately, and she was quite comfortable with issuing orders. If she wasn’t family—Liane’s brother Kane had married the youngest Fyne sister, Sophie—Isadora would not feel compelled to stay here one minute longer.

  The twins Liane carried would be Sophie’s nephews. The Emperor Sebestyen was blissfully ignorant of his wife’s relation to the rebel Kane Varden, which was a blessing. Sebestyen in a foul mood was a frightening sight, indeed. Learning that his beloved wife was the sister of one of the rebels who was trying to overthrow him would definitely cause a nasty turn in his disposition.

  Liane had been confined to bed for several weeks in order that her children might have time to grow before they were delivered into this world. She had not taken to her ordered bed rest very well. The empress was irritable, demanding, and potentially dangerous, so it was odd that in a twisted sort of way she and the witch who tended to her had become friends. It was possible neither of them had ever had a true friend until this moment in time.

  Isadora entered the imperial bedchamber just as Liane grabbed a pretty vase of greenery and rare flowers—courtesy of her husband—and threw them at the man who was trying to deliver her an early supper. The servant ducked at an appropriate moment, and the vase flew past his shoulder and shattered against the wall.

  “How dare you deliver such a pathetic excuse for a meal!” Liane shouted at the terrified servant.

  Isadora studied the remains of that meal, which were scattered across the floor. Roasted meat of some sort, an assortment of vegetables, freshly baked bread. There was nothing pathetic about it

  “What would you like for supper?” Isadora asked in a calm voice. “Whatever you wish, it can be arranged, as you well know.”

  Liane glared at Isadora with steely green eyes. “I wish to have this man’s head on a silver platter.”

  The servant edged toward the door. Isadora glanced at the poor man. His face had gone red, and his knees wobbled visibly. “He doesn’t look at all tasty to me.” She gave him permission to leave the room with a gentle wave of her hand, and when he was gone, Liane relaxed against her mountain of pillows. She did not continue to yell, but she did pout. She pouted in the same way she did everything else: to extreme.

  “What’s the real problem?” Isadora asked.

  “The roast was overdone, and I do not care for that sort of bread, and—”

  “No,” Isadora interrupted. “What’s the real problem.” It was likely no one had spoken so plainly with the empress for a very long time. It was certain that no one else in the palace, with the exception of her husband, would dare to interrupt her.

  The empress and her emperor were well matched, when it came to bad tempers.

  The pout did not fade. “Sebestyen is entertaining a very important guest for supper tonight, and I’m stuck here, confined to bed like an invalid or an ancient old biddy, or a...a...”

  “A mother-to-be who wishes only the best for her children,” Isadora supplied.

  “I’m doing very well, you said so yourself. Could I not leave my bed for just this one evening? I promise not to overexert myself or indulge in any excitement. I won’t even speak, if you tell me that silence is best.”

  “Just who is this guest who has you so anxious to leave your bed?”

  Liane smiled, as if she’d already won. “Have you met Esmun Hern?”

  Isadora curled her lip. “Briefly.” Esmun Hern was handsome enough, that’s true, but he was also a blatant rogue who apparently thought himself charming. He had impregnated one of the concu
bines, Elya, on that day when Sophie had wielded her magic in a way that had left so many of the women in this palace with child—including the empress. Since that time Esmun Hern had left the palace for his native Tryfyn, returned to see Elya, and made a general nuisance of himself by all but laying claim to one of the emperor’s concubines. Sebestyen was wary of annoying the man, since he represented one of the larger clans. Their help would be needed, if Sebestyen was to defeat the rebels once and for all. It was the only reason Hern lived.

  “Esmun has decided he wants to marry Elya.”

  “Surely she is not foolish enough to agree,” Isadora said. After all, the man was an outrageous flirt, and if he had been faithful to Elya in his time here, it would be a miracle.

  “She did agree, and now Esmun must have his elder brother’s permission.”

  “A fully grown man asks his brother’s permission to marry?”

  Liane shrugged her shoulders. “It is the way in Tryfyn, or in their clan. In any case, Esmun’s brother arrived last night.”

  “And you wish to see him,” Isadora said. “Is it worth risking an early delivery?”

  Liane sighed in that annoyed way she had. “I have heard that he is quite extraordinary. Sebestyen said he’s a member of the Circle of Bacwyr.”

  “The Circle of Bacwyr is a myth,” Isadora said. “And if the Circle is not a myth, then its time is so far past it might as well be.”

  Liane sat up, as much as she could. “It is said that only the finest of men are admitted to the Circle. It is said that no ten men can defeat one Bacwyr warrior in battle.”

  “You have never before struck me as being gullible, Liane.”

  She did not take offense. “No, but I have always been curious, as you well know.”

  Isadora ignored the empress and began to pick up the dishes from the floor. Some pieces were broken, others were not. Food had been scattered everywhere.

  “You could come with me,” Liane said in a lilting, singsong voice.

  “I’m sure the Emperor Sebestyen wouldn’t approve of your midwife standing behind your chair while he entertains this important man.”

  “Well, no. We could dress you in one of my old gowns and tell everyone that you’re my cousin, come to stay with me until the baby is born.” She sounded quite proud of herself for coming up with the plan.

  “That’s very devious of you,” Isadora said.

  “And while we’re dining with a warrior from the Circle of Bacwyr, someone else can clean up this mess. The empress’s cousin should certainly not be assigned such a demeaning chore.”

  Isadora lifted her head; Liane was grinning. “It will be such fun,” the empress said softly. “It will be an adventure. When was the last time you allowed yourself to have an adventure?”

  In truth, Isadora had had enough adventure to last a lifetime, mostly in the past six months. None of it had been of the pleasant sort. None of it had been fun.

  “We will play dress-up, Isadora,” Liane said in a coaxing voice. “When was the last time you donned a luxurious gown and had your hair fixed and wore imperial jewels?”

  “Never,” Isadora answered plainly.

  Liane cast her a smile of victory. “Oh, dear. In that case, it is time.”

  About the Author

  Linda's first book, the historical romance Guardian Angel, was released in 1994, and in the years since she's written in several romance sub-genres under several names. In order of appearance, Linda Winstead; Linda Jones; Linda Winstead Jones; Linda Devlin; and Linda Fallon. She's a six time finalist for the RITA Award and a winner (for Shades of Midnight, writing as Linda Fallon) in the paranormal category. She’s a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than seventy books. Most recently she's been writing as Linda Jones in a couple of joint projects with Linda Howard, and rereleasing some of her backlist in ebook format. Information is always available at www.lindawinsteadjones.com.

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  Also by Linda Winstead Jones

  The Columbyana books

  The Sun Witch; The Moon Witch; The Star Witch

  Prince of Magic; Prince of Fire; Prince of Swords

  Untouchable; 22 Nights; Bride by Command

  Bride by Midnight

  Firebird, a novella

  Dragonstone Dance

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  Fairy Tale Romance

  Into the Woods

  DeButy and the Beast

  Someone’s Been Sleeping in My Bed

  Big Bad Wolf

  Let Me Come In

  Cinderfella

  One Day, My Prince

  Jackie and the Giant

  Let Down Your Hair

  * * *

  Time Travel Romance

  Desperado’s Gold

  On a Wicked Wind

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  For other titles, visit Linda’s website.

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  Also by Linda Winstead Jones

  Children of the Sun

  Prince of Magic

  Prince of Fire

  Prince of Swords

  Columbyana finale

  Bride by Midnight

  Firebird

  Dragonstone Dance

  Fairy Tale Romance

  Into the Woods

  DeButy and the Beast

  Someone's Been Sleeping in My Bed

  Big Bad Wolf

  Let Me Come In

  Cinderfella

  One Day, My Prince

  Jackie and the Giant

  Let Down Your Hair

  The Emperor's Brides

  Untouchable

  22 Nights

  Bride by Command

  The Fyne Witches

  The Sun Witch

  The Moon Witch

  The Star Witch

  The Rock Creek Six

  Sullivan

  Jed

  Cash

  The Shades Trilogy

  Shades of Midnight

  Shades of Winter

  Shades of Scarlet

  Standalone

  The Rock Creek Six: The Complete Set

  Bridger's Last Stand

  Jingle Bell Rock

  Moonlight Becomes You: A Short Story

  Haunted Honeymoon

  Children of the Sun

  Midnight Moonlight: A Short Story

  Warrior Rising

  Behind the Mask

  Clint's Wild Ride

  Running Scared

  Desperado's Gold

  On a Wicked Wind

  Calling After Midnight

  Forever Mine

  Resolution

  Watch for more at Linda Winstead Jones’s site.

  About the Author

  After publishing more than seventy books, I’ve finally admitted to myself that I just can’t make up my mind about what, exactly, I want to write. Since 1994 I’ve written romance in several different sub-genres. Historical; fairy tale; romantic suspense; paranormal; fantasy; contemporary. As so many authors do, I write what speaks to me in that moment. Who knows what will come next? Whatever the genre, I believe the perfect romance should provide a tear and a couple of laughs, a chill or two, and by the time the story is over, the reader should be left with a smile and the feeling that all is right with the world in that moment. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story you just read. For more information please check out my website at www.lindawinsteadjones.com. You can sign up for my news
letter there, if you'd like. Free to drop me a note at lindawinsteadjonesauthor@gmail.com, or visit me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LindaWinsteadJones or www.facebook.com/LindaHowardLindaJones. I'm also on Twitter, @LWJbooks. Best Regards, Linda

  Read more at Linda Winstead Jones’s site.