by M. J. Scott
The Forbidden Heir
A Novel of the Four Arts
M.J. Scott
emscott enterprises
Contents
Praise for M.J. Scott
Free Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Want more Four Arts books?
About the Author
Also by M.J. Scott
Excerpt from Shadow Kin
Praise for M.J. Scott
The Shattered Court
Nominated for Best Paranormal Romance in the 2016 RITA® Awards.
“Scott (the Half-Light City series) opens her Four Arts fantasy series with the portrait of a young woman who’s thrust into the center of dangerous political machinations… Romance fans will enjoy the growing relationship between Cameron and Sophie, but the story’s real strength lies in the web of intrigue Scott creates around her characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
* * *
“Fans of high fantasy and court politics will enjoy The Shattered Court. Sophie is such a great heroine...”
—RT Book Reviews
Fire Kin
“Entertaining…Scott’s dramatic story will satisfy both fans and new readers.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This is one urban fantasy series that I will continue to come back to…Fans of authors Christina Henry of the Madeline Black series and Keri Arthur of the Dark Angels series will love the Half-Light City series.”
—Seeing Night Book Reviews
Iron Kin
“Strong and complex world building, emotionally layered relationships, and enough action to keep me up long past my bedtime. I want to know what’s going to happen next to the DuCaines and their chosen partners, and I want to know now.”
—Vampire Book Club
“Iron Kin was jam-packed with action, juicy politics, and a lot of loose ends left over for the next book to resolve that it’s still a good read for series fans.”
—All Things Urban Fantasy
* * *
“Scott’s writing is rather superb.”
—Bookworm Blues
Blood Kin
“Not only was this book just as entertaining and immensely readable as Shadow Kin—it sang in harmony with it and spun its own story all the while continuing the grander symphony that is slowly becoming the Half-Light City story. . . . Smart, funny, dangerous, addictive, and seductive in its languorous sexuality, I can think of no better book to recommend to anyone to read this summer. I loved every single page except the last one, and that’s only because it meant the story was done. For now, at least.”
—seattlepi.com
“Blood Kin was one of those books that I really didn’t want to put down, as it hit all of my buttons for an entertaining story. It had the intrigue and danger of a spy novel, intense action scenes, and a romance that evolved organically over the course of the story. . . . Whether this is your first visit to Half-Light City or you’re already a fan, Blood Kin expertly weaves the events from Shadow Kin throughout this sequel in a way that entices new readers without boring old ones. I am really looking forward to continuing this enthralling ride.”
—All Things Urban Fantasy
* * *
“Blood Kin had everything I love about urban fantasies: kick-butt action, fantastic characters, romance that makes the heart beat fast, and a plot that was fast-paced all the way through. Even more so the villains are meaner, stronger, and downright fantastic—I never knew what they were going to do next. You don’t want to miss out on this series.”
—Seeing Night Book Reviews
* * *
“An exciting thriller . . . fast-paced and well written.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
Shadow Kin
“M. J. Scott’s Shadow Kin is a steampunky romantic fantasy with vampires that doesn’t miss its mark.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Patricia Briggs
“Shadow Kin is an entertaining novel. Lily and Simon are sympathetic characters who feel the weight of past actions and secrets as they respond to their attraction for each other.”
—New York Times bestselling author Anne Bishop
* * *
“M. J. Scott weaves a fantastic tale of love, betrayal, hope, and sacrifice against a world broken by darkness and light, where the only chance for survival rests within the strength of a woman made of shadow and the faith of a man made of light.”
—National bestselling author Devon Monk
* * *
“Had me hooked from the very first page.”
—New York Times bestselling author Keri Arthur
* * *
“Exciting and rife with political intrigue and magic, Shadow Kin is hard to put down right from the start. Magic, faeries, vampires, werewolves, and Templar knights all come together to create an intriguing story with a unique take on all these fantasy tropes. . . . The lore and history of Scott’s world is well fleshed out and the action scenes are exhilarating and fast.”
—Romantic Times
Sign up to my newsletter and I’ll send you an exclusive deleted scene and bonus content from Shadow Kin, the first book in my award-nominated Half-Light City fantasy series.
Click here to sign up.
Copyright © 2017 by M.J. Scott
Excerpt from Shadow Kin © 2017 by M.J. Scott
All rights reserved.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by emscott enterprises.
Cover design by Katie Anderson.
Created with Vellum
For everyone who kept asking me about this book
Acknowledgments
This book has been a bit of a journey. And it might not be here if lots of the usual suspects hadn’t been there for me. Thank you to Kate, Allison, Sarah, Lissa, and Alyssa for awesome feedback and Ainslie the blurb goddess. Thank you, as always, to my lovely Lulus for writer sanity and to Bec for motivation, info, and travel adventures. Love always to my folks who always cheer me on. And finally, all praise to Katie Anderson for my beeyootiful cover.
Deep the earth
Its harvest life
Bright the blood
Sharpest in strife
Swift the air
To hide and fool
False the water
The deadly pool
Chapter 1
“Welcome to Illvya.”
The words echoed around Sophie Mackenzie’s head and she suddenly felt oddly detached from her body. “I think—” She took a step forward, swayed, and then steadied as her husband’s arm came around her waist.
“Sophie?” Cameron said urgently at the same time as Henri Matin said, “Madame?”
“I am quite—” Sophie started, but the room spun around her and she squeezed her eyes shut against the sensa
tion.
“Lord Scardale, perhaps you should help your wife to a chair,” Henri said. His voice was deep, the musical tones of the Illvyan accent underscored with concern or something close to it, which eased the swirl of fear in her head and stomach somewhat.
The next moment, Cameron swung her up, around—which made her head whirl faster—and then settled her into a chair. She kept her eyes closed, still feeling as though the room was spinning around her, focusing on trying to convince herself she was sitting still and safe. The knot in her stomach had loosened into a writhing sensation that was far more unpleasant. She breathed through her nose, determined not to throw up.
“It’s been a long journey,” Cameron said, sounding fierce. “She needs to rest.”
No. She needed to know that they were safe. She couldn’t rest until they were safe. They had fled from the palace in Kingswell in the dark of night, leaving a dead assassin behind them. They had risked everything to leave Anglion and cross the ocean to the country that was Anglion’s sworn enemy. It was entirely possible they had merely jumped from frying pan to fire, and she could not let her guard slip until she knew if that were the case.
She opened her eyes. “I am quite well.” There. She managed the entire phrase that time, though the sentiment was no truer than it had been on her previous attempt.
Cameron’s face came into focus, above her. He stood by the chair, clear blue eyes darkened by fatigue and worry. Henri stood next to him. His eyes, lighter by several shades than her husband’s, were a blue closer to the pale silver of his hair. And they were, in comparison, far more composed. But there was an equal amount of skepticism in each of their gazes. Clearly neither man believed her claim. She couldn’t fault them for that. She didn’t believe it herself.
But she was determined to go on. “Mis—I’m sorry, I do not know the correct form of address,” she said to Henri apologetically, struggling for the words. Her Illvyan was not fluent by any stretch of the imagination, and her education in the language had definitely not included the finer details of wizardly protocol. Given that Anglion considered the wizards of Illvya to be anathema and heretics, her teachers presumably hadn’t thought such things necessary.
“The correct term is Venable, for a wizard. Venable Matin. I’m not sure how you would say it exactly in Anglion—no, you say Anglish, do you not? Mine is not perfect,” Henri said with a small flick of his fingers, as if to indicate that he took no offense in her ignorance.
“Since we are in your country, it does not seem to matter what we Anglions call the language,” Cameron said. “And your grasp of it, however you name it, seems admirable.”
Henri nodded once. “That is kind of you to say. Perhaps it will improve further on your acquaintance. Still, I do not know the precise translation of Venable. Honored wise one would come close, I suppose. And, if you do not care to correct me on what your language is called, then I shall not quibble over my titles tonight. Besides, as I am master here at the Academe, you may call me Maistre Matin, to be more exactly correct. It is simpler.”
Sophie smiled, hoping the expression didn’t reveal the depths of her exhaustion. Her stomach was settling, but that only left her more aware of how much the rest of her ached for sleep. “Maistre Matin, then. I would like to know where my husband and I stand. We are seeking asylum here in Illvya. At least for a time. We need to know if it will be granted to us. And under what conditions.”
Henri pursed his lips. “It is a long time since an Anglion witch—at least one of your status—made her way to these shores.” His eyes looked oddly dark for a moment. Then he blinked and they were as before.
“My status? I’m not sure I understand you,” Sophie said.
“We get a small number of Anglions arriving here, of course. It is not common but it does happen. Though, more often, men than women. And of the women, more often those without any power, or only some small power, already dedicated to your goddess. But I do not recall the last time there was a royal witch on our shores. Let alone an unbound one. I imagine we’d have to dig into the history books quite far back to find someone in that state.” He pushed the fabric of his robe back from where it had fallen over his arm and the cloth seemed to shimmer slightly, catching the light with a dark rainbow gleam that was echoed in the black jewel in his heavy gold ring.
“Unbound?” Her stomach clenched again. How did he know that? What did an Illvyan know of the rites of the goddess? Or that, in her case, they had failed.
“Is that not the right term? Undedicated, perhaps?” The maistre pursed his lips, gaze intent on her. Then he glanced at Cameron. “Though perhaps . . . not entirely unentangled.”
Unentangled. Cameron went tense beside her. Sophie didn’t let her gaze stray to her husband. Could Maistre Matin sense the bond between them? If he could tell that she was not bound to the temple, then the answer was almost certainly yes.
“Relax, Lord Scardale, I mean no harm to you or your wife. And, to be frank, my fam would stop you before you could draw your sword or your gun. They are very fast, the familiaris sanctii.”
“You have a demon here? In this room?” Sophie’s heart began to pound and only the fact that she was so tired kept her seated. A demon. The stuff of every tale of horror she had ever been told as a child. A creature like the one that had greeted them at the door to the Academe, skin the color of stone and dark metal, eyes black and knowing. It was a measure of how exhausted she was that she hadn’t managed to react with more than mild alarm at the sight. Or stepped within the doors of L’Academe di Sages at all.
“Do not look so worried, Lady Scardale. I assure you that Martius is perfectly safe. And as for what unbound means, well, I’m sure you know that as well as I. Though, I will confess, I am intrigued to learn how a royal witch in full possession of her powers did not undergo your temple’s so-called ritual.” His lips pursed again, as though he had tasted something sour.
Sophie swallowed, unsure what was safe to tell him. She needed time to think. To adjust to their new reality. To rest. But there was no rest if there was no safety. “I—”
“That is a story for another time,” Cameron interrupted. “My wife asked you a question. Do you grant us asylum?”
Henri shrugged. “Asylum is not mine to give, Lord Scardale. For now, I will grant you the safety of the Academe and such protection as we can offer. Other details will be . . . decided later.”
“Decided by whom?” Cam demanded.
Henri looked amused. “By those who rule here in Illvya. Or rather, those who make decisions. Namely the emperor and his parliament. The latter like to think they wield some influence. Though I’m sure you are familiar with that idea from your home country.”
“Queen Eloisa rules alone,” Cameron said stoutly.
“I hope for her sake that that is true,” Henri said. “Though your presence here may suggest otherwise. Unless—” He broke off. “But come. Your lovely wife needs sleep and food, Lord Scardale, and I imagine that such things would not be unwelcome for you either.”
“Our safety?” Sophie managed, even as visions of a soft place to lie down began filling her head, so enticing that she suddenly wanted to cry. She swallowed. She could endure a little longer.
“Is guaranteed for tonight,” Henri said. “In the morning, I will have to inform the emperor of your arrival.”
“But—” Cameron started.
Henri cut him off with a gesture. “It cannot be avoided, my lord. And it is better that he hears it directly from me rather than from rumor.”
“What happens then?” Cameron demanded. He looked poised to . . . what? Fight his way out? That couldn’t possibly work. Not when the venables had demons at their beck and call.
“The emperor will decide what happens next. But he is not in the habit of harming Anglion refugees. I doubt he will change his methods with the two of you. But for now, the best thing you can do is rest. You have my word, no one will harm you under my roof. So come, Willem will take you to your acco
mmodations. You can eat and sleep and bathe, and perhaps, in the morning, you will do me the kindness of telling me news of my daughter.”
He looked suddenly wistful and Sophie hid a wince. Chloe de Montesse had been a refugee in Kingswell for close to ten years. That must be how long it had been since Henri had seen her. Might be how long it had been since he’d had any news or word of his daughter at all. Was that how it would be with Sophie’s family? Would she never see them again?
No. She couldn’t think about that. If she did, then she would definitely cry. She formed a polite smile with an effort and the instincts ingrained from her time at court. “Of course, sir. I only know your daughter a little, but I would be glad to tell you what I can about her.”
“As will I,” Cameron said. He touched Sophie’s shoulder lightly and then offered his hand to help her up. “But for now, we would be grateful for that food and a chance to sleep.”
* * *
The young man—Willem—who had shown them to the maistre’s chambers was waiting outside the door when Henri opened it again to usher Sophie and Cam out. Perhaps he had been waiting there, he and the two young crows who had accompanied them on their journey through the Academe, the whole time.