War of the Seasons, book two: The Half-blood

3 Chapter preview:

“Spring has something of mine; he knows what it is.” She smiled coldly. “I need you to bring it to me.”

“And why would I do that?” Story folded her arms over her chest.

A branch from the sidhe’s hair glided out in front of her, bearing a single, small acorn. “Because I poisoned Eírnin.”

One of the tattoos on her shoulder coalesced into a live oak leaf, and she plucked it before standing up and holding it out toward Story. “And if you want the antidote, you will bring me what I seek.”

Story lunged for the leaf, but the Autumn Princess was too quick and crushed it in her hand. “You have until winter’s first frost reaches him. Then, he dies.”

Without waiting for a response, Metirreonn disappeared in a scattering of red-gold leaves and sparks.

* * * * *

Six months after arriving in the world of Ailionora, Story finds herself once again on a quest; only this time it is not to save a dying race but the life of the elf she loves. Along the way, she must face the consequences of her previous choices and battle with enemies both old and new while she races against time.

“Engagingly demonstrates that readers of all ages can get drawn into a world of magic and adventure.” — Karen Lyon, The Hill Rag

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Chapter one

No Need to Argue

What's wrong?" Story took Erinin's proffered hand and let him pull her up onto the wooden dock. Though he’d avoided her gaze, she still caugry in the elf’s eyes. “You’ve been quiet this whole trip.”

“Aye, but I’m always quiet when we travel under the sea.” He kept his tone light, but Eirnin’s accent—Irish-sounding to Story’s ears—rolled out thicker than usual, betraying his agi- tation. “Unlike you, I can’t send my thoughts through water. Besides, you talked enough for both of us.” He said the last with a wink that crinkled up the ailach—his clan’s tribal tattoo—un- derneath his left eye.

As soon as Story cleared Ped’s back, the selkie leapt out of the water and transformed from his seal form into that of an almost horse-sized, floppy-eared Great Dane. He shook himself dry, spraying Story and Eirnin with cold salt water. Blowing out a breath that fluttered his jowls, the selkie put his long, black nose on Eirnin’s tattooed shoulder, begging for his fur to be scratched.

“Not a bit sorry, are you, Ped?” Eirnin obliged him with a quick scratch and gave Story a helpless smile.

Ped whined, and Story laughed, “I don’t think he’ll ever be okay with being number two, after me, in your hierarchy.”

“He’ll get over it.” Eirnin patted the selkie affectionately on the neck, and Ped leaned all his weight against the elf. Like most natives of Ailionora, Eirnin was stronger than a human, which was a good thing, or else he’d have been knocked to the ground while the giant dog tried to show his affection. Sometimes it seemed the selkie didn’t realize how big he was and instead thought he was some sort of lapdog.

The air whistled out of Ped’s nostrils in a high-pitched keen when Eirnin stopped patting his head to reach for a saddle- bag holding their gear. The elf’s darkly tanned skin glistened in the hot, summer sun highlighting the swirling, black tattoos stretched over the toned muscles of his left shoulder, biceps, and forearm.

“You still didn’t answer my question.” Story cocked her head to one side, scattering dozens of shoulder-length, purple and black braids behind her. “I know something’s got you wor- ried, or anxious, or whatever feeling it is you’re trying to hide from me.”