Prologue
She watched out her window in horror, and her breath left her body. The doors were breached.
Never, in a thousand years, would she have thought this possible. The Covenant had held for millennia, there had been peace. Prosperity. No one had ever dared to break it. Power was never meant to held by one kinhold. How were they here? Why had they come?
It didn’t matter now, she realized.
Where was Roarke? Was he okay? Was he alive? She knew, with both pride and sorrow, that whatever happened, he would hold them off until his last breath.
She exhaled, stilling her mind and her body. It was time.
“Get Heath,” she breathed to her second, her eyes still closed. The female nodded, arming herself with a belt of daggers as she headed for the door.
All of those close to them were highly trained. It brought Margot a measure of peace after she bore her three children, to know that they were well protected at all times. But never did she think they wouldn’t be safe in their own home, the strongest fortress in the realm.
Margot moved to the enormous stone hearth at the far wall. She walked her fingers along the thick stone mantel above her head, feeling for the stones above. It had been decades since the last time she had practiced, an exercise for something she never thought would come to pass.
The dust was thick in some spots, and it took a moment before she located what she was looking for – a round stone, slightly smaller than the others. She rose to her tiptoes and placed her palm over its smooth surface, channeling into it.
A groan sounded as the old mechanism engaged. Dust fell from above, and then the stones that she stood upon, along with the entire hearth, began to swing.
She stepped off and around to the dark hallway that emerged behind. Pausing at sounds in the hallway, she hurried faster, stepping inside.
The air was musty and stale, and a low sucking wind pulling at her into the darkness. She made her way along the back wall, 10 paces, then crouched and found the smooth stone in the floor by feel in the dimness. She removed a hairpin and pricked her finger, pressing it into a small groove in the stone. She waited for the light click and pried it open. Letting energy flow through her body and into her hand, she reached in and wrapped her fingers around leather bound book. She pulled it out, dusting off the cover. The ivory and onyx of the carved wolves on the front glinted in the faint light, and she lowered her head.
She replaced the stone just as the door opened. Whirling, she tucked the book behind her back as she stepped to see who entered.
Heath. She relaxed her arms back to her side, cradling the book.
“Oh thank the gods,” her eyes threatened to overflow with tears as Emeline emerged behind Heath holding her daughter, with Kat behind her, babe in arms, pulling a sleepy Alandric into the room by his hand. Heath turned, sliding the heavy bolt across the door behind them.
The females' eyes were wide, flashing, but she looked only to Heath, hoping against hope. He returned her gaze, his face solemn, and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Her heart sank, just as she braced herself for what had to be done.
“Go,” she said hoarsely, stepping aside to clear the path to the gaping secret hallway.
“I’m not leaving you, your grace,” Heath’s voice cracked. “Come with us.”
Margot squared her shoulders. “I said go.”
Heath’s jaw tightened and he lowered his head. “We will protect them with our lives.”
She handed him the book. “You know this cannot fall into the wrong hands,” she said. Her hand shook despite her effort to quiet it.
Heath nodded, gently taking it and tucking it into his tunic.
She looked at her beautiful children, her eyes glistening. Lyra’s face rested on Emeline’s shoulder, her dark eyelashes resting peacefully on her cheek, her blonde tendrils curling around her ears and neck, damp with dewy sweat. How many times had she run her fingers through those curls. The baby rested peacefully in Kat’s arms and Margot couldn’t help but to reach out and touch his soft, downy head, just as she had done since the moment he was placed into her arms. Alandric, the one who had made her a mother, clutched his stuffy and rubbed his sleepy eyes.
She had hoped, had prayed, that they would be blessed and privileged, that they would be raised with love and joy, one day becoming beloved, strong leaders. That they would never have to carry the heavy burden of their heritage in a world without family, without protection.
But they have protection, she reminded herself. They had their people. This kinhold would not easily be erased.
Please, she prayed silently. Keep them safe. Let them find their way, no matter what comes next.
Noise escalated in the hallway. She kissed their heads, wiping away the tears she could not hold in.
“Be brave,” she said to Alandric, who looked up at her and furrowed his little brow in sleepy confusion.
“I am brave, mama,” his little voice tugged at her heart anew.
She touched his soft hair and smiled at him. “I know. Now go.”
The small group entered the hidden hallway. While she wished to watch after them, to take in every second of what might be her last glimpse of her children, she couldn’t. She found the stone and pushed it. The wall groaned and swung.
Just as she wished to fall apart, an axe cracked through the thick wooden door. She moved to grab her sword and dagger, checking to make sure the hearth was closed. She kicked a rug over the floor in front of it to cover any marks, then readied herself.
She took a deep breath, in and out, clearing her mind and finding her balanced fighting stance as she had done so many times in her life. She was the most powerful female leader in her line, and in this realm. She was a mother. No one was more fierce, no one more ready to fight wildly, with all of their heart and soul, to protect their children. She was ready.
The door splintered. A huge male punched out the remaining wood and stepped in, followed by another behind him, and another. Margot threw her dagger, catching the first in the throat.
