by Alex Lidell
Power of Five
Power of Five, Book 1
Alex Lidell
Danger Bearing Press
Contents
Also by Alex Lidell
Prologue
1. Leralynn
2. Leralynn
3. Tye
4. Coal
5. Leralynn
6. Leralynn
7. Leralynn
8. Leralynn
9. Leralynn
10. Coal
11. Leralynn
12. Leralynn
13. Leralynn
14. Leralynn
15. Leralynn
16. Leralynn
17. Leralynn
18. Leralynn
19. Leralynn
20. Leralynn
21. Leralynn
22. Leralynn
23. River
24. Leralynn
25. Leralynn
26. Tye
27. Leralynn
28. Leralynn
29. Leralynn
30. Leralynn
31. Leralynn
32. Leralynn
33. Leralynn
Also by Alex Lidell
About the Author
Also by Alex Lidell
Young Adult Fantasy Novels
TIDES
FIRST COMMAND (Prequel Novella)
AIR AND ASH
WAR AND WIND
SEA AND SAND
SCOUT
TRACING SHADOWS
UNRAVELING DARKNESS
TILDOR
THE CADET OF TILDOR
New Adult Fantasy Romance
POWER OF FIVE (Reverse Harem Fantasy)
POWER OF FIVE
MISTAKE OF MAGIC
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Prologue
River
“No,” River told the magic pulsing through the wet earth beneath his palm. Not that the magic much cared for River’s opinion. “Bloody no. That cannot be our fifth.”
Stepping up beside him, River’s quint brothers, Tye, Coal, and Shade—the latter in his wolf form—stared down from Mystwood’s overlook to watch a mortal girl of about twenty push a wheelbarrow toward a compost pile. Her lush hair was a fiery brown hue that toyed with the sun’s rays as the girl went about her work, dumping off her load of manure and pushing the wheelbarrow back toward the stable.
The estate on which the girl labored sprawled daringly close to the border to Mystwood, the dense forest separating the mortal lands from the fae’s Lunos territory. Unsurprisingly, minus a handful of inns and taverns catering to the more curious mortals—or lost ones—the closest village lay a full day’s ride away. No one wished to live closer to Mystwood than they had to—no one, it seemed, except the estate’s master.
The girl stopped and brought her hands up to her face, breathing on her fingers. Dressed in too-short pants, oversized boots that stayed up only thanks to old gray stockings, and a threadbare cream tunic that tried and failed to conceal her curves, she had to be freezing in the cool wind. It made River simultaneously want to envelop the girl in his arms and disembowel her overseer. Neither of which would be happening.
“That is female,” Tye said after a moment.
“That is mortal,” Coal added.
“That is a mistake,” River declared with a finality he did not feel. If the girl was a mistake, his entire being wanted to be beside her anyway. His bones tingled with the pull of it even as he straightened to his full height, his voice a mix of command and dismissive closure. “One we must correct as expeditiously as possible.”
“I don’t think you fully appreciate how females work,” said Tye dryly. From the Blaze Court, the southern most of the three fae kingdoms, Tye had thick red hair, a fire-magic affinity, and a propensity for finding a brothel anywhere, anytime—even if one hadn’t existed there before Tye’s arrival. He shifted his shoulders, his eyes locked on the girl. “They don’t morph into males—let alone fae males—just because you order them to.”
“You appreciate how females work enough for the rest of us put together, Tye.” Coal crossed his arms, a stray lock of hair that had escaped his tight bun whipping in the fresh breeze. The warrior’s face was tight, and River well understood Coal’s displeasure. After a decade of seeking a fifth warrior to replace their fallen quint brother, the magic apparently had decided to play a damn jest and bond them with an utterly incompatible being. Quints were fae warrior units, magically chosen, eternally bonded, and harshly trained at the neutral Citadel Court to defend against the threats forever escaping from Mors, the dark realm. “She doesn’t even feel us.”
Coal’s words twisted in River’s chest. Yes, the male was correct. Any bonded fae warrior would be roaring his way toward the quint, unable to resist the pull, even if it meant striding right into Mystwood. The girl, on the other hand, was still shoveling manure.
“What now?” Coal asked, and it was all River could do not to flinch.
“We bring the mortal to the Citadel in Lunos and ask the Elders Council to break the bond.” River turned his back on the girl whose essence now called to him. “Don’t get attached.”
1
Leralynn
“Lera!” Mimi’s voice bounces through the stable, turning horses’ heads.
“Over here,” I call from the backmost stall, running my hand down a gelding’s velvety neck. The horse whickers softly, his warm sides heaving as steam rises from his coat to mix with the stable’s chill air. The earthy scent of hay and leather, tangled with the grassy waft of horse manure, wraps the stable in a familiarity that has become my refuge from Master Zake’s mix of leers and blows.
Leaning my forehead against the horse, I draw long, steadying breaths. I’m on edge, have been since last night, though I can’t put my finger on what’s making my soul churn. Maybe it’s the way Zake has been watching me lately, like I’m water in a drought—that should either be drunk up before it’s gone or else sold for a tidy sum. Or maybe it’s just the wolf from my dream that’s still frightening me. Gray with black around the muzzle, golden eyes, and a powerful maw of sharp teeth. A foolish thing to be uneasy about. The only forest near Zake’s estate is Mystwood, which separates mortal lands from the fae. If there is a wolf in Mystwood, he wouldn’t venture out. Animals don’t like going in and out of those woods. And I don’t blame them. I feel a shiver anytime I go near the forest’s edge.
Actually, no one but Zake likes Mystwood, and he doesn’t so much like the forest as worship it. Someone long ago told him that a clan of fae warriors shall one day emerge from the forest and take a human with them to the immortal lands. Zake filled in the rest of the tale with images of heroic battles, fawning women, and sparkling immortality. Thinking this too great a temptation to resist, the man built himself an estate at Mystwood’s edge and has spent two decades waiting for fortune to show up with an invitation.
Perhaps I am too hard on the man, though—we all need something to dream about. Then again, mortals who try to cross into fae lands never return, though their bones and ravaged bodies sometimes appear at Mystwood’s edge. Not all dreams are safe.
“Oh, bloody stars.” Mimi puts her hands on her waist and regards me critically. “Get out of there before Zake gives you a new set of bruises. He pays you to mulch shit, not hug livestock.”
“Zake pays me?” I say, raising a brow. I might theoretically be earning wages, but after Zake skims off my room and board and other “upkeep,” as the indentured-servant trade calls it, I see little more than pennies.
Mimi grabs my wrist and hauls me out of the stall. She is even shorter than I am, the age my mother might be if she were still alive, and she works in the kitchens, so there is often a piece of
bread or cheese in a pocket for me, together with a smell of flour trailing in her wake. Mimi is as close to family as I’ve had since Zake purchased me from one of the orphan collectors twelve years ago. I don’t remember what happened before then, but I do remember freezing one moment and being hauled atop a warm horse the next.
That was the one and only time I’ve ridden. I think Zake fears that I’ll run off in the middle of the night if I could ride, though there is no place for me to go.
“Zake will give you a great deal more than pennies if you let him.” Mimi brushes stray hay off my mane of auburn hair and arranges the locks over my shoulder. “He’s been waiting for you for years, Leralynn, and I don’t think he’ll put up with your coyness for too much longer.”
“If last week’s whipping was a sign of courtship, I think he might be barking up the wrong tree. Never mind that he is twice my age and in love with a fairy tale.”
Mimi clicks her tongue. “You might be the one in love with fairy tales, dear. Zake is only twice your age, is rough for work, not drink, and he’s never once forced himself on you. How many masters would respect a stable girl’s maidenhead, eh?”
“All the ones who think said maidenhead might fetch them a hefty sum.”
Taking a warm roll from her pocket, Mimi stuffs it into mine, the smell of yeast and fresh bread making me groan. “I, for one, would enjoy calling you ‘mistress.’ You would live in the house, have food and clothing and heat. It would be a better life for you than cleaning stalls.”
“I like cleaning stalls.” Reaching back, I close the gelding’s door, which slides smoothly on oiled wheels. Zake does take good care of his property—when he thinks it will line his pockets.
“Now, then.” Mimi claps her hands. “Pay attention, girl. The kitchens are abuzz with rumors of a wolf stalking the estate grounds. Master Zake’s on his way back here to go hunting, and I thought it might be nice if you had a horse ready for him when he comes. Tell him to stay safe, fuss a bit. It wouldn’t hurt.”
I freeze, my mouth going dry. “Wolf?” I lick my lips. “What kind of wolf, Mimi?”
“I don’t know. The meat-eating kind, I presume.” She sighs. “You are focusing on the wrong part of the news. If you aren’t going to be useful, then perhaps scram before Zake comes, eh? You don’t need to be rejecting the man outright. And you might change your mind too.”
Yes. Leave before Zake arrives heated for a hunt. That’s exactly what I need to be doing.
Except I can’t. I need to save that wolf. And I have no idea why.
“I can’t scram—the horses want their dinner,” I say mildly, as if my heart isn’t galloping. “What has the wolf done?”
“Nothing yet.” Mimi waves a hand dismissively. “With stars’ fortune, Zake’s men can put it down before it causes trouble and brings pack mates to help.”
Pack mates. Yes, the wolf likely has those who’ll mourn him and howl at the moon in loneliness, which I know too well. All because the innocent animal crossed Zake’s property line.
The sounds of men’s voices and clanging weapons ring from outside the barn door, and Mimi’s face tightens. Unlike me, Mimi does what she is told and has almost saved enough to pay off her upkeep debts. “Come, girl. Either support the man or disappear from sight, eh?”
“You go.” I push Mimi out the back stable entrance just as Master Zake pulls open the sliding front door. By the time his heavy boots echo through the stalls, I’m standing in the middle of the aisle again, my thick locks billowing in the sudden gush of wind.
The icy cold cuts my skin, making even my freckles shiver, but I tighten my hold on the hay-filled wheelbarrow and curtsy. “My lord.”
Around forty, Zake is large, healthy, and muscular, with a thick head of wiry brown hair. He’s amassed a series of scars to go along with his sharp temper, including a long slash across his face that gives him a perpetually displeased expression. Frowning at my wheelbarrow, Zake lifts a heavy saddle with one hand and carries it into a stall. “You should have finished with that half an hour ago, Leralynn,” he calls. “Once I return with this damn wolf’s pelt, you and I shall discuss the meaning of punctuality.”
Bile rises in my throat. “Don’t. Please, Master Zake.”
Zake sticks his head out of the stall, his gaze raking my body and making his scar stretch. “Don’t whip you for laziness?” he inquires with more interest than the question warrants.
I hug my arms over my chest. “Don’t hunt the wolf. It . . . it might be a female.” It isn’t. But I don’t know how I know this, or what else to say. All I know, deep inside me, is that hurting that wolf would be very, very bad. “Maybe she has cubs. Little ones who nurse from her and need her and—”
“Shade is most definitely not nursing cubs.” The unfamiliar voice, rich and musical, comes from the open stable door. Where there was only wind moments ago, now I see a tall man with deeply carved muscles, red hair, and amused emerald-green eyes. Dressed in supple brown leather armor that bares his long, corded arms, he moves with a feline grace that should be impossible to achieve. His mouth, which seems to be caught in a permanent smile, flashes white teeth with just a hint of point on the canines.
I’ve never seen something so beautiful.
He cocks his head at me and my breath catches.
Ears. Delicately pointed ears, one of which is crowned with an intricately worked silver earring. The man isn’t a man at all, but an immortal fae male from beyond the Mystwood forest.
Zake seems to realize the same thing just as I do, and he gasps, eyes wide. Stepping in front of me, my master bows low to the visitor. “Welcome, High One.” Zake’s voice shakes a bit. “I’ve been awaiting you.”
The man—the male—snorts, his eyes skipping over Zake to focus on mine. The nagging feeling inside my core pulses in recognition, but my mind remains blank. I have no idea who this male is, though my body seems to know him. I take a step back, my hand closing around a pitchfork.
The male’s eyes glitter with amusement. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Lera,” he drawls, his voice pulsing with a cockiness that I’ve a sudden desire to knock out of him. I know I should probably be terrified of the male, but instead I’m thinking that, if not for his ears and ethereal beauty, I’d imagine him just a few years older than I am, with his maturity perhaps lagging behind his body’s dominating strength. Gaze firmly on my pitchfork, the male steps neatly around Zake and bows. “I’m Tye. And if it’s an option, lass, I would prefer not to be skewered.”
2
Leralynn
“Please forgive my servant’s impudence, my lord,” Zake says quickly, bowing as he steps between me and the fae warrior again. Zake’s voice drips with desire, like a salivating dog. “It is but a misunderstanding. It is I, not this wench, who’s waited for you here at Mystwood’s edge. I will of course fulfil the honorable request you make of my estate.”
Tye gives Zake a dismissive look and raises a bemused eyebrow at me, as if to say, Who the hell is this?
“Excuse us.” Grabbing my arm, Zake pulls me out the back door of the stable, his large fingers leaving bruises above my elbow. The cold pierces me from all sides, cutting brutally through my thin clothes, but my blood is racing too quickly to worry about the chill. Zake’s nostrils flare, a vein ticking along his temple. “What the hell is this?” he hisses into my face, his rank breath shoving itself inside me. “You think to steal my destiny from under my very nose?”
I try and fail to wrench my arm from his grasp. “I’m not stealing anything.” My breath mists, the words coming quickly as I spot his free hand unbuckling his heavy belt. “I’ve not even laid eyes on a fae male before now, Zake. I swear it on the bloody stars.”
“Is this why you tried to stop my hunt?” Zake snarls into my face. “You wanted to intercept the immortal before he reached me?” His meaty hand turns me around, pressing my head against the barn’s side as the belt uncoils behind me. “What did you offer him, wench? Your maidenhead? Tell me the
truth now, girl—it will only hurt more if you lie.”
“I’m not lying,” I say, my body already bracing for the coming blows. “Zake—” I clamp my mouth shut as the belt whistles through the air. There is no stopping this now, and little reason to waste breath that I’ll need shortly.
A furious growl rips through the air. Just when my back is supposed to explode in flame, a dark shape hurtles out of nowhere. Before I can blink, Zake is in the dirt, a large wolf prowling over him. The wolf’s lips pull back, revealing wet canines that glitter in the sun, its thick gray pelt and black muzzle bringing me straight back to last night’s dream.
I gasp, stepping away—and knock right into a wall of muscle and maleness. Tye, the smiling red-haired fae male, is no longer amused. The green-eyed stare he gives Zake is filled with the promise of violence. Not that there will be much of Zake left if the wolf has his way.
“What’s going on back here?” says a quiet voice. A new fae male strides out of the stable, this one dressed in warrior black and sporting a glare that says he’s one breath away from razing the whole estate to the ground. If Tye is an overgrown adolescent, the newcomer is a deadly killer, with long blond hair tied up in a bun, a chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes that seem to strip me and find me wanting in one glance. The wicked-looking blades strapped to his waist and back complete the effect.