Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Belmary House Book Six
by Cassidy Cayman
Belmary House Book Six
Owen Povest has fled to his family’s village in hopes of getting a grasp on his uncontrollable power.
Reeling with guilt over ruining Owen’s and Maria’s happiness, Ariana is hiding out in her chosen future. A future that is about to repeat itself with deadly consequences.
Tilly and Ashford can’t face the thought that they’ve lost their only daughter, and trying to find her is threatening to tear them apart. In order to save his family, Ashford may have to do something that will ultimately destroy it.
And something is wrong with Maria.
Chapter 1
Owen Povest collapsed onto his back in the ditch, staring at the sky. “I guess pride does goeth before a fall,” he said with a dazed groan.
It had been three days of nearly non-stop trudging since anyone offered him a ride. About that long since he’d had anything to eat. The ferns growing at the edge of the woods nearby looked temptingly delicious to him. Like the green salads his Aunt Tilly loved so much.
He rolled to his side to try to contain the gnawing hunger. Why did he thunder off like a petulant child? His parents were agreeable to his plan to visit the Povest side of the family in Moldavia. In fact, they seemed eager to get rid of him, not that he could blame them after what he’d done. They would have given him money. His uncle Julian would have given him a horse and more money.
But he was too proud, too angry. The exact same things he’d berated Ariana for. He hoped she was all right, wherever and whenever she was. Foolish lass.
“And you’re just as foolish,” he said, closing his eyes against the midday sun that seemed to burn right through his tired retinas.
He wasn’t sure how far he was from the village in Moldavia where his cousin Sorin presided over a powerful coven of witches. He wasn’t even sure he was headed in the right direction anymore. Learning about his magical legacy seemed unimportant after the long weeks of hard travel. He only wanted something to eat. Anything. He reached for the lacy ferns. If they were poisonous, at least he’d die with a full belly.
“I was wrong,” he said to the plants. “I was a wee idiot. I need help.”
“About bloody time,” a voice behind and far above him said.
God? Had God deigned to help him? Despite all the mistakes he’d made? Tears clouded his eyes but he was too dehydrated for them to fall. He rolled over to see a man, medium tall in height, brown hair, an impish grin on his face. Probably not God.
“I couldn’t find you until you called for help,” he said, holding out his good hand.
“Cousin Sorin?” Owen asked, still lying in the ditch. “Is it you?”
“None other. Has it been so long that you don’t recognize me? And why on earth would you cloak yourself like that? I’ve been traipsing around for days trying to find you.”
Owen finally accepted the outstretched hand. “If I did, I didn’t mean to. I’m off magic until I can better understand it.”
Sorin surveyed him from head to foot, a wry twist to his friendly, weathered face. “Well, it’s not off you, that’s for certain. Hungry, are you? You’re looking at me like I’m a roasted ham.”
Owen’s stomach growled ferociously at the mention of such a delicacy. He doubled over, clutching his twisting gut.
“I’m near starving,” he said.
His second cousin snapped his fingers and two horses ambled out from the trees. He pulled a saddle bag off one and handed it to Owen. He greedily tore through it, cramming a loaf of stale bread into his mouth and nearly choking. With a shake of his head, Sorin handed him a leather-wrapped jug. The wine had him reeling after days of no food but it was like heaven on his tongue. After he wolfed down the bread and a hunk of dried pork, he was able to smile at Sorin.
“Better?” Sorin asked. “Feel like a human again?”
“Much better,” Owen said. He felt rejuvenated, as if he could walk for another three days. It seemed the second horse meant he wouldn’t have to, though. “Thank you for coming to get me,” he said, then frowned. “But how did you know I was on my way?”
Sorin motioned toward the horses, clearly eager to be on his way. “I guess you could say I had a messenger.”
“My father?” he asked, stomach sinking. Had they changed their minds about letting him go?
“Nooo, not your father,” he said cagily. “Someone who’s itching to see you, though. She’s been a right pain in my nether regions, wreaking havoc at the village. So let’s hurry, shall we? Perhaps you can sort her out. I certainly can’t.”
Owen didn’t have any time to feel curious. It seemed like he had barely mounted the horse when he was faced with a large set of gates. He turned around to see a vast path leading through the woods but had no recollection of entering the woods.
“Is this the village?” he asked, a shiver of excitement racing up his back. His family lay beyond those gates. Hopefully willing to accept him and eager to help him learn. “How did we get here so fast? Was I that close to making it?”
Sorin chuckled. “You might not be doing magic but that doesn’t mean I’m not. I wandered around the hard way for weeks looking for you, so got us home a bit quicker. And you not only weren’t close, you were heading too far north so would have missed us had you kept walking the way you were.” Sorin looked at him sternly. “Don’t be such a fool next time. Ask for help. It’s what family’s for.”
“Yes, sir, you’re right.”
“I know I am and don’t call me
