by H. D. Gordon
She tore two daggers free of her cloak and rushed toward her uncle, tears streaming down her face, which was twisted in anger and agony.
She cried out again as she reached him, and stabbed both daggers through his chest as deep as they would go.
Her uncle’s eyes widened to disks, his breath rushing out in one huge sigh. She twisted the knives, and blood spouted from her uncle’s mouth, making a beard of red on his chin.
Surah let go of the weapons, and Gregory’s body slumped to the ground with a thud, his legs jerking twice before going still forever.
She paid him no mind as she crawled onto the bed beside her father, pressing her shaking hands to his throat and hoping beyond hope that there was still time.
She wrapped her hand around the stones at her neck and recited a healing spell, watching through blurry eyes as the wound on her father’s throat slowly healed itself.
She laid her head against his chest and listened for his heartbeat, her own heart stopping as she heard nothing but silence.
She refused to believe it. Refused to accept it. It just could not be so.
She began reciting every healing spell she knew, praying to the Gods to bring him back.
Just bring him back. She would give anything, do anything. Just please, don’t take him away from her, too.
At that moment, the doors to her father’s chambers burst open, and Theodine Gray entered the room, five Hunters following on his heels.
Surah paid them no mind, but Samson turned and hissed loudly, swiping at them as they tried to advance forward.
Theo and the Hunters backed up, freezing as they took in the scene. Several times they made attempts to approach the bed where their dead king lie, but the tiger would not let them even get close.
After several long moments, as Surah sat beside her father, rocking slowly back and forth and muttering spell after spell like a crazy person in a white room, Theo quietly instructed the other Hunters to leave, and they did as they were told, their faces as white as paper, their heads lowered in respect.
Then, it was just Samson, Theo, Surah, and the two bodies in the room. Theo took a step forward, and Samson growled again.
When Theo spoke, Surah heard him, but couldn’t comprehend the words.
“I’m not going to harm her, Samson,” Theo said gently, holding his hands up in front of him. “I would never harm her. Please, let me help her.”
Samson looked over at Surah, who was still rocking back and forth and chanting lowly. He wanted to refuse the Head Hunter, but could see that Surah definitely needed help.
In fact, if he was being honest, he had never seen her look as fragile as she did now, and it frightened him.
Her lavender hair stood out all over her head, and her face had gone as white as her dead father’s. Blood covered her hands and cloak, and some of it was even smeared across her face. Her violet eyes were distant, as if she were looking at the whole thing from far, far away.
Samson turned his back on Theo and approached Surah slowly. When he reached her, he put his large head in her lap and looked up at her with his big amber eyes, wishing he could pull the pain out of her and suffer in her place.
Surah paid him no mind. She just continued rocking. Continued chanting. At last, Samson could take it no longer.
“It’s too late, Surah,” he told her. “He’s gone.”
Surah’s eyes flashed with anger so fierce that Samson took an involuntary step back, knowing the emotion was not for him, but aching from it nonetheless.
A little admiration for the Head Hunter swirled in the tiger when Theo stepped forward and met Surah’s gaze levelly. He knelt down in front of her, covering her hands gently with his own.
Surah surprised all of them when she fell into Theo’s arms and buried her head against his cloak.
Theo stood wide-eyed for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.
Samson stood off to the side, watching the two of them with a sinking of his own heart.
He moved over to the window and climbed up onto the sill, staring out at the night beyond, where clouds had moved in, covering the sky, blotting out the stars.
“What can I do to help?” Sam silently asked his mistress.
There was no hesitation in her answer. “You can help me kill Charlie Redmine’s brother,” she said.
Sam stared out at the storm gathering over the night.
“And what about Charlie?” the tiger asked gently.
Surah’s violet eyes were hard when Sam looked back at her.
“Gods help him if he gets in our way,” she told him.
What Sam thought was, Gods help us all.
The End…For Now
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Throne of Magic (Heiress of Magic Trilogy: Book 3)
Available now in the Kindle Store
Throne of Magic
Well-behaved women rarely defeat tyrants.
The kingdom is in chaos, and as heir to the Sorcerer throne, Surah Stormsong has somehow found herself a public enemy along with the man she loves.
Her beloved’s brother is a dark Sorcerer hell-bent on stealing the kingdom and ushering in a new rule, forcing Charlie to make a tough choice, and decide where his heart truly lies.
With the help of her great tiger and loyal followers, Surah will defend what is rightfully hers, or die trying.
Throne of Magic is the final book in the Heiress of Magic Trilogy.
Copyright © 2018 H. D. Gordon
Published by H. D. Gordon Books
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
For my family
Chapter 1
Surah
Chaos ran unchecked through the streets.
Stacks of black smoke rose into the air, flames burning through the buildings below them.
Alarms sounded, many having been set off when the surge of magic returned to their world. The cries of mothers, children, and men alike could be heard even from where Surah Stormsong sat looking down at the madness below, high upon the balcony of her father’s castle.
Her castle.
It was no longer her father’s. It was her castle now. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to that.
And, really, if things continued in the trend they seemed to have adopted, she might not have to get used to it. She was smart enough to know when the foundation of things was being threatened. If Black Heart and the crazy Fae Queen had their way, a new regime was already on its way in.
Surah could feel his presence behind her even before his enormous head rested upon her shoulder, the soft fur there tickling her neck.
“There will be no change in regime, love,” Samson told her, his deep voice sounding only in her mind.
Surah answered aloud, but found she did not recognize the sound of her own voice. It was as if something essential had been lost. She supposed it had.
“I am the last of the Stormsong line,” she said, voice inflectionless. “Not another soul walking this earth shares the same blood as mine.”
Samson moved around to the front of her, blocking the worst of the view below from her sight with his large, black-and-blue striped body. His amber cat eyes met the violet of hers and held firm.
“Yes,” he agreed. “You are the last of the Stormsong line, and rightful heir to the throne. You are the daughter of kings and scholars, the blood of the highest men. You have suffered, my dear heart, and lost more than most coul
d stand. On your shoulders rests the fate of your people, a weight too much for most to bear. You are not most. You are Queen Surah Stormsong, and that is your city down there, and your people tearing it apart.”
Samson paused, licking her hand with his warm, rough tongue and nuzzling his head against the thick velvet of her cloak.
“So tell me, my queen,” he continued, “what do you intend to do about it?”
Surah’s head lifted, and the broken pieces of her heart seemed to shiver in her chest—not quite beating again, but warmed by the faith of her best friend. Yes, she had lost her family, her father, the faith of her people… and Charlie.
But she was indeed Queen Surah Stormsong, first of her name and rightful heir to the Sorcerer’s throne, and whether they liked it or not, those were her people down there.
Surah stood, her chin lifting and shoulders squaring, and released a deep breath, thanking her giant tiger with a rub behind the ears, which Samson accepted happily.
“I’m going to get control of my kingdom,” she said. “And then I’m going to lay my father to rest… After that, I suppose I have a Sorcerer and a Fae Queen to attend to.”
“And what about Charlie Redmine? What are you going to do about him?”
Surah sighed and shook her head. If she spoke on that matter, she was afraid she just might cry. And there was no time for that. There was no room for weakness. War was upon them, and war called for warriors.
Samson’s mouth opened wide in a yawn, and he stretched his lean body, running his tongue out over his face. He knew her well enough to know when not to push something.
“First things first, then”, he told her, “we need to pay the council a visit. We don’t know what Theodine Gray has told them, and the death of both your father and your uncle will soon spread. We don’t want the council members even entertaining unseating you. “
Surah nodded, grateful for the change in subject and happy to feel something through the numbness that had befallen her, even if it was just a burning hatred for her late uncle, Gregory Brightstar, Head of the Royal Council.
Her heart wrenched when she thought about how she’d found her traitorous uncle standing over her father’s dead body, and how she had taken her own daggers to her uncle for his treachery.
It had been righteous, the killing of Gregory Brightstar, but righteous or no, a king and the head of his council were now dead, and Gods only knew what Theodine Gray and the council members were planning on doing about it.
Everyone who shared her blood had died within this legacy, and she would be damned if they would take it from her.
“Let’s go put some people in their places, Sam,” she said.
The giant cat’s mouth twitched in a way that Surah knew was his feline version of a smirk.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
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Also by H. D. Gordon
The Blood Pack Trilogy
Moon of Fire
Moon of Shadows
The Alexa Montgomery Series
Blood Warrior
Half Black Soul
The Rise
Redemption
The Aria Fae Series
The Halfling
The Masked Maiden
The Blue Beast
The Haunted Hero
The Wolf Wars Series
Moon Burned
Moon Broken
Moon Born
Heiress of Magic Trilogy
Born of Magic
Thief of Magic
Throne of Magic
About the Author
H. D. Gordon is the author of several urban fantasy novels. She is the mother of two amazing daughters, and a lover of kick-ass females, beautiful places, and nerdy t-shirts.
She believes our actions have ripple effects, and in the sacred mission of bringing love and light to the world.
When she isn’t reading or writing, she spends her time with family and taking strolls by the sea.
H. D. resides in southern New Jersey—which she insists is really quite lovely.
For more information, please visit:
www.hdgordonbooks.com
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