For the Reign (For the Blood Book 3) by Debbie Cassidy

Author:Debbie Cassidy [Cassidy, Debbie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-03-18T16:00:00+00:00

The beautiful stranger carried me toward the silent village. Closer to the sound of the bells. We left the blizzard behind at the border to the village, where a sign saying Merryville hung suspended between two thick wooden posts. The bells continued to ring, but where was the sound coming from?

The man carried me past a frozen fountain and over frosted cobblestones and awnings heavy with snowfall. There was no one about, and if not for the lights in the windows I’d have labeled it a dead town.

“I can walk.” I pushed against the stranger’s chest.

“Very well.”

He set me on my feet and then looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Follow me. Sage is at the tavern.”

We cut across the square where a small brick arch took the spotlight, a large curved horn hanging from it, balanced on two large hooks. The bells grew louder.

I covered my ears. “Damn, do those bells ring incessantly?”

He turned to me with a frown, and the bells stopped ringing as if someone had flicked a switch. His gaze slipped over my head and settled on the horn.

“The horn of Cernunnos,” he said softly.

“Cernunnos?”

He raked me over, and this time his regard was slightly too intense. “Cernunnos was a friend, a warrior, and god able to tame the dead. Cernunnos was the reaper of souls, but he’s gone now.” His gaze flicked up to the sky. “Come.”

He led me quickly toward a quaint building with shuttered windows and a sign that read The Silver Mask. The stranger rapped three times on the door, paused, and then rapped twice more. After a long beat, the door swung open. Delicious heat blasted out into the night, caressing my face and drawing me forward. The beautiful man ushered me in first and then followed, closing the door firmly behind him.

The aroma of spice and cooking meat hit me next, and then the room broke into a cacophony of sound.

“You found the lass.”

“Of course he did.”

“Look at the mite, frightened little thing.”

“Elsi, hot water and bandages,” the stranger demanded.

Voices, so many voices and faces—kindly, weathered, young, and old—the people dressed in colorful tunics, long dresses, and winter boots. Wooden tables and jugs and tankards dotted the room and a bar stretched along the back. The place was something out of a fairy-tale. Apt considering this was Faerie.

The stranger leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Merryville is one of the few villages that prefers to do things the old-fashioned way. The magic here is primitive but the people are golden.”

A buxom middle-aged woman came hurrying out from behind the bar carrying a bowl. She headed toward us, inclined her head in our direction, and then placed the bowl of water, washcloth, and bandages on a table to our left. She reached into her pocket and took out a small tub, unscrewed the lid to reveal some green goop, and placed that on the table too.

The man pulled out a seat. “Sit so that I may tend you?” he said to me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.