The unicorn spoke again. “I have stalled the Mage Duke with my own dark magic, but he will come at the new moon, when his curse calls for a sacrifice. I cannot stop him. He will harvest a soul in payment for the daughter of his heart.”
I met Lucus’s eyes. “My new friend says the Mage Duke will return when the new moon rises.” A shudder ran through me. “He wants to harvest a soul.”
The unicorn’s presence faded from my mind.
“Hey, listen. At least we proved we can fight someone on his level. Right? Let’s enjoy the next few days as best we can. Maybe my unicorn pal will do more than stall him. Maybe everything will be okay.”
“Maybe,” Lucus said. “Should we find the others?”
Picturing Hekla, the Binder, Aurelio, and Nora, I was reminded of gladiators and how they did the whole Eat, Drink, and Be Merry thing before they fought lions. Maybe I wouldn’t mind battling for glory with my fellow warriors.
“One thing is for sure—we won’t go down easy.” I took up the Yew Bow from where I’d stashed it near the couch. “I didn’t snag this baby for nothing.”
Lucus kissed me, then pressed his forehead against mine and smiled. “That’s my queen.”
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Eve also writes epic and high fantasy under the name Alisha Klapheke.
Here is a sneak peek at her Scottish fantasy romance, The Edinburgh Seer!
Note from Eve/Alisha:
I wrote this book because I am obsessed with all things Scotland. I have traveled around the country to marvel over its beauty and history, its people and its haunting atmosphere.
When I was in the highlands, a woman told me a story about the Coronation Stone, about how the Scots didn’t want to give up the ancient artifact to the nasty English king. I began to research and this trilogy full of romance, alternate history, and ghosts was born.
Summer, 2017, Fifteenth Year of John III’s Reign
The morning sun had just managed to paint a pale yellow light over Edinburgh’s Old Town, and, as usual, Aini MacGregor had already run three errands and set up her father’s candy lab for the day’s work. Pots, scrubbed and warmed, on the stove. Measuring spoons shined to make the morning sun jealous. Bags of powdered sugar and vials of hormones and chemicals standing in place like disciplined kingsmen. Everything was exactly where it needed to be.
The tower was chilly this time of day and goosebumps hurried over Aini’s skin as she unscrewed a jar and shifted the newly purchased cinnamon into its tidy home. She inhaled the lovely scent. Tears burned her eyes—not because of the many spices she had at her fingertips, but because of the rasping voice carried on the wind through the cracked, leaded window above her head—the voice of Nathair Campbell, the very powerful man who would shoot her dead if he knew what she was.
A sixth-senser.
Demanding her skittering heart to quit distracting her, Aini continued about her work. Today would be a great one for her father, Lewis MacGregor, crafter of the nobility’s beloved sweets. Together, with the apprentices’ help, they shaped goodies that not only tasted divine, but gave the eater certain short-term abilities usually enjoyed by birds or insects, or only dreamed up by wild imaginations. They’d been a hit at the king’s last birthday party. The British king was a terrible man—Aini couldn’t change that—but at least his parties helped with business. With the vision-inducing gum they were about to craft and test, the MacGregor business, Enliven, was poised to rule the boutique sweets market. If only the stupid thugs, the Campbells, would leave well enough alone.
Clan Campbell worked for the king, maintaining his rules here in Scotland. But lately…they seemed to have become very full of themselves and were taking on projects that Aini was certain the king himself knew nothing about.
“Who is shouting to wake the dead in the Grassmarket?” Neve demanded in place of a Good Morning. Father’s female apprentice padded into the room. When she wasn’t working in the lab, Neve took tourists around Scotland with Caledonia Tours. She knew her history, that was for sure.
With quick fingers and a smile, the Edinburgh native pulled her hair into two high buns and secured them with pins. All the girls here wore their hair like that. Aini tugged at one of her own heavy, black locks. It refused to be tied up, but even though it made her stand out—not many half Balinese girls in Scotland—she couldn’t hate it. It reminded her of her mom, a woman who hadn’t been perfect, but who’d loved her completely.
Aini straightened her lab coat and eyed the king’s rules hanging on the wall. An identical list of “Scottish citizens cannot do this” and “All citizens and colonials must do that” were posted in every pub, home, and store in the entire British Empire. Even across the pond in the rebellious Dominion of New England colonies. Aini wondered if they’d ever get over their 18th century loss. They were nearly as bad as the Scottish rebels here.
Blinking, she remembered Neve’s earlier question. “Nathair Campbell is down there, dirtying the morning.”
Neve made a Scottish sound of disgust in the back of her throat. Aini couldn’t have agreed more. “I’m excited about that new gum recipe,” Neve said.
Perfectly on time—because Aini perfectly timed it—the gum base started to bubble on the stove.
“Your white pepper idea for the gum is going to work. I can feel it.” Aini wiped her hands on a towel, breathing in the sweet smells. “I really think it’ll trigger the chewer’s schema for fire.”
Neve grinned, and Aini realized her Dominion of New England accent was blazing again.
Thane loped into the lab, and Aini’s heart whirred like a broken taffy puller and pushed every other thought out of her head. At six-foot-four, the Scotsman dominated the room, all broad
