New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Donna
Grant blends the magic of Scottish and Norse tradition in the final installment
of her acclaimed Kindred: The Fated series.
Magic holds both
beauty and danger…
As Lady of the
Varroki, Malene was powerful and revered. But after a battle, she awakens in
Norway as Dagny, a witch with no memories of her past. Her identity fragmented,
Dagny finds herself entangled in a life far removed from the path she once trod
and seduced by the lure of power. Until that need shifts to passion for the one
who has imprisoned her, hoping to make her remember.
As a warrior and the
Lady’s right hand, Armir will not stop searching for Malene. When he does,
she’s not the woman he remembers. Driven by an undying love that transcends the
boundaries of time and space, Armir risks everything for her. But enemies lurk
in the shadows, waiting to strike. Will he and Malene overcome their pasts to
find a future together?
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Teaser Excerpt:
Fall
Armir took a deep breath and looked into
the dark depths of the cave. He had used it countless times, but it wasn’t his
home. It was a place to rest, to escape. It had also been the location he
expected his life to end. Some of his darkest days had been spent within the
cold stone walls. He had spent hours roaring his anger and bellowing his grief.
And then, just when he had lost all
hope, he felt her magic.
Armir held out his hand as a ball of
fire swirled in his palm. He shot it toward the ground. Sparks flared to life
in what was left of the ash. He looked down at the flames jumping and dancing.
He fought not to look over his shoulder where she lay unconscious. He had held
her too tightly, stared too long as he carried her to the cave. But he had
thought never to see her again.
He swallowed and checked the area once
more. Then he walked through the cave to the entrance. He paused and looked out
at the rain as it fell in sheets too thick to see more than a few feet. Armir
unsheathed his dagger and cut his forearm. Blood welled and dripped onto the
stone. The words of an ancient spell he’d never thought to utter fell from his
lips as he walked across the entryway, trailing his blood with him.
When he reached the other side, he
pulled out a strip of cloth and wrapped it around the wound. For better or
worse, neither he nor Malene would be leaving the cave anytime soon. It was the
right thing to do. He had a duty to their people—to everyone—to figure out what
had happened to her. Why, then, did it feel as if the weight of the world now
rested on his shoulders?
He was weary. Tired of losing hope,
tired of the guilt. Just…beat. He’d lived his life for the Varroki, to
safeguard Blackglade. It had been the greatest of honors to be chosen to stand
beside the Lady of the Varroki—and he had stood beside a few. Yet none had been
like Malene.
Armir dropped his chin to his chest. The
Varroki were a strong people, their magic unmatched. They had descendants of
the Celts and Norse, merging the two cultures into one. Because of that, they
had chosen to live in a hidden city. At one time, their numbers had been great,
but strict rules and the war with the Coven had decimated their ranks to the
point of extinction.
He turned and made his way back to the
cavern. Malene was on her side, her long, flaxen hair spread around her. He
almost hadn’t recognized her in the breeches, leather, and chainmail covering
her. He had taught her battle magic, but what he’d seen when he came upon her
and Asa locked in combat was something else entirely. It had been merciless and
brutal. She had been cold and ruthless. The opposite of the woman he knew.
Like all the Ladies chosen by destiny or
fate, Malene had to be convinced to leave her family, life, and home for
Blackglade. It was rare for a Lady to reign for more than five years. Many died
within the first. But not Malene. There had been a few times he hadn’t thought
she would survive. He had believed her too fragile, too vulnerable. However,
her inner strength surfaced when her back was to the wall. She hadn’t just
survived, she had thrived.
She had known nothing of magic when he
found her. He had questioned why she had been chosen as Lady of the Varroki,
but the longer he was around her, and the longer she ruled, the more he
understood. She had fought the confines of her role, all the while worrying
over the Varroki.
Finally, she stopped fighting her
destiny and instead grasped it with both hands. He could still remember how her
soft gray eyes had danced with excitement when he agreed to teach her to read.
It had been her first order to him. Once she grasped it, she had been
voracious, combing through every tome in Blackglade at least once.
That’s how she’d discovered the decrees
of celibacy for many positions within the Varroki—including his—that had long
stood in their culture. She had overturned all of them in an effort to help
grow their ranks once more. Yet years of being forbidden to touch a Lady
couldn’t be wiped away with a snap of the fingers. No matter how much he might
want to reach for Malene, he hadn’t.
He couldn’t.
Armir didn’t know when he had begun to
love her. The emotion was just there one day, and there was no way to put it
back into a box. Or ignore it. So, he had silently dreamed and yearned. And
hoped.
Just when he was ready to tell her how
he felt, they had gone into battle against the Coven. He should’ve told Malene
about his feelings before they walked onto that battlefield. Instead, he had
chosen to keep quiet and let her focus on the upcoming clash. It had turned out
to be his greatest mistake because he lost Malene that day.
Being at Blackglade without her had been
unbearable. He hadn’t found a body, so he refused to believe she was dead and
set out to find her, intending to comb the Earth. Every day that passed without
uncovering a clue had eventually worn him down, hollowing him out and creating
a hole in his heart.
Some days, he couldn’t do anything but
sit with his memories. Other days, he covered dozens of miles, stopping anyone
he came across to ask if they had seen someone matching Malene’s description.
And all the while, a sense of dread had grown within him that she was gone.
Lost to him forever.
Armir lowered himself to the ground and
looked across the fire at the woman who had ensnared him utterly, completely.
He stared at her heart-shaped face with her high cheekbones and plump lips. He
had looked into her large eyes so many times, captivated by their color and the
wisdom staring back at him.
No one was supposed to touch the Lady of
the Varroki. But he had. He could recount each time down to the last detail.
Somehow, that made his yearning grow until she was all he could think about. He
hadn’t wanted her to go into battle because he had feared losing her. She
reminded him she was the Lady, chosen to bear the magic of the blue radiance.
He knew her power, her strength. It was why he hadn’t believed her dead.
And he’d been right.
