King's Highlander Read online

  Cover Copy

  Faith is trusting the truth your heart knows

  Danu, goddess of Wolfkind, has fallen for a mortal. Ever since fate thrust her into the body of a mortal woman, potent desires have plagued her. Surely, returning to her true form will cure her of the longing to fall into bed with the handsome King Magnus. Unfortunately, in her current state, she has no power to transform herself. Worse, she has no power to save her people from the wicked demigod intent on subjugating them.

  King Magnus has waited fifty years for Seona, the human woman prophesied to become his queen and the mother of his heir. Now that he has her, she wants nothing to do with him. Until a terrible accident steals her memory. Where Seona once hated him, she now flirts with him. Where she once fled his protective custody, she now marvels at every nuance of life within his castle walls.

  Magnus has been betrayed too many times to trust easily. Seona’s new behavior is suspect. But try as he might, he cannot deny his growing passion for her. Just when he begins to believe Seona will finally be his in every way, he learns a truth that rocks him to his core and puts his kingdom in peril. To save his people, he must rely on a new, fragile faith that challenges everything he thought he knew, and risk losing a love that transcends mortality.

  Highlight

  Magnus had honored Anya’s request to give Seona time. He’d kept his distance when he’d wanted nothing more than to be close to her in hopes of sparking his dormant affection. No more.

  Seona was his, damn the moon. No one would keep him from her again.

  King’s Highlander

  By Jessi Gage

  Dedication

  To each and every wonderful reader who demanded this story be told. Magnus would not have gotten his happy-ever-after without you.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my wonderful friends and critique partners, Amy Raby and Janice Whiteaker for your brainstorming help, critiques, and good company. Thank you, Shane for your love and support. I couldn’t do this without you. That goes for you too, Mom. Between babysitting, plotting help, proofreading, laundry, and just listening when I need to talk, you make it possible for me to follow my dream. Thank you, Piper Denna for editing this manuscript and Damonza for the gorgeous cover. Thank you, beta readers Michele Engebretson, Patti Kilcullen, Mina Waldron, Sarah Wallhauser, and Paulina Woods for your enthusiasm, comments, and patience as I know each one of you waited for EVER for this book. You all helped me make this finished product the best it can be.

  Prologue

  Footsteps sounded on stairs of stone as Danu’s jailor descended to her.

  Within her cell, she drew herself to her full height. All she had left was her pride. It was the one thing Hyrk could never take from her.

  “Good morning, my fair goddess.” His voice slithered through the silence. The torches in the walls, ever glowing with crimson light, caused slashes of shadow where rocks jutted from the dungeon floor. Hyrk sailed gracefully around the obstacles, so familiar with the path, he could no doubt walk it blindfolded. Clothed in his usual finery and smelling of lavender baths, he reminded her of the luxuries she’d once taken for granted.

  Hatred pulsed in her chest. If she weren’t surrounded by bars of cold-iron, she would use that hatred to sear him where he stood. The immortal demigod wouldn’t die from it, sadly, but it would take him time to heal, time during which she would not have to suffer his presence.

  “I have the most wonderful news, my dear.” Framed by hair the color of fresh blood, his pale face beamed.

  What would he crow about this time? Had he acquired a new follower? Had the population of her precious wolfkind dropped more quickly than usual? In the absence of her blessing, her people had steadily declined in number, especially the women. Each death added thickness to the bars of her cell. Soon, wolfkind would be extinct, and she would be worse than dead, forever sealed inside a box made from her failure as a goddess. Lest she forget her inevitable fate, Hyrk reminded her daily.

  Whatever his news, she did not encourage him to deliver it. Anything Hyrk considered good was sure to displease her.

  “A battle is afoot!” he said, clapping with glee. “My King Bantus and his traitorous, little helper are about to usurp the throne of Marann. What’s left of your wolfkind will soon be under my complete control! No more will your pesky followers stand in my way. At last, I’ll have free rein to shape them into the bloodthirsty race they should have been from the beginning. Isn’t it fantastic?”

  Her fists clenched at her sides with the effort to remain quiet. Over the past two thousand years, she had learned that her rage only fueled her enemy’s excitement.

  “Of course, it doesn’t have to be this way.” his tone sank to slimy depths. “You have the power to free yourself. To save them. We will rule them together. As one flesh, joined by Sacred Tradition. What say you? Is this the day you hold to your word and become my wife?” The question was the same every morning.

  As was her answer. “No.”

  Chapter 1

  “Hear my prayer, Goddess. Answer the plight of your people. Shine your favor on us once more, I beg you.” Smooth marble cooled King Magnus’s forehead as he prostrated himself before Danu’s altar.

  He’d greeted each new day of his reign thus, at the temple where generations of Marann’s kings had sought their creator’s wisdom and truth. Of late, his prayers had grown in urgency, but the news he’d woken to this winter’s morn’ caused his plea to pour forth with even greater desperation.

  Along with the expected handful of male deaths this week, a lady had gone to Danu’s breast.

  Her name was Massabel. Mother to eight sons, granddame to twelve, great granddame to eight, and great-great granddame to one, she had lived one hundred thirty-seven years, leaving behind her pledgemate, a governor in Chroina’s Financial District. Aged but not ancient, Massabel had been the very definition of health until a tooth abscess had caused her to stop taking food. Fever had claimed her life only days later.

  The most skilled tooth surgeon had gone to Danu’s breast years ago. His two apprentices, who had been thrust into the trade out of necessity, had done all they could for Massabel, but without their master, they had not been able to restore her health.

  Soon the last remaining master physicians would return to the goddess, leaving behind apprentices and texts, but taking with them their long years of experience. It was this way with masons and smiths, bakers and cheesemakers, farmers, tailors, parchment makers, and jewelers. No trade was unaffected.

  It was the way of extinction.

  The number of women remaining was a mere one hundred forty-nine. Those young enough to breed a terrifying thirty-five, none of whom had produced young in more than eleven years.

  Today’s population, unless another death was reported before the breakfast hour, was five thousand nine hundred ninety-seven. With so few women left and none of them producing young, five years would see their numbers reduced by a thousand. Then another thousand. Then another. In twenty years, the world’s population would fit comfortably in Chroina’s city center and there would be no females of breeding age left.

  Unless Danu saved them.

  Two moons ago, hope had surged.

  As autumn had yielded to winter, he’d led his men to victory in Larna and there saw the slaying of his sworn enemy, King Bantus. Twelve women of breeding age had been miraculously discovered in Bantus’s dungeon. But the victory swiftly gave way to chaos.

  Lawlessness abounded in both newly conquered Larna and the far reaches of Marann. Insurrections cropped up more quickly than his dwindling army could put them down. Revolutionists lurked in the royal city of Chroina, eager to place a king of their own choosing on the throne—it would have been his cousin A
ri if Magnus hadn’t discovered the plot and executed Ari for his betrayal.

  As for the women, the joy of their discovery evaporated as word spread that they were not wolfkind, but human, a race with shortened lifespan and delicate build compared to theirs. Some lobbied to include the women in the breeding lottery regardless of their weaker blood. Some wanted to rent the women to men desperate for female attentions. Some, like Magnus, wished to return them to their human realm, for they’d suffered unspeakably at Bantus’s hands and owed wolfkind nothing.

  Except for one woman. Seona.

  Here in this very temple fifty years ago, Danu’s priest confirmed the sacred vision Magnus had experienced the night of his coronation. For his entire reign, he’d waited for the chestnut-haired beauty with a paw print on her cheek, the special lady Danu had promised to him in a dream. For fifty years, he’d anticipated loving her and being loved in return. For fifty years, he’d prepared to make her his lifemate. His queen. She would bear his heir, and, ruling together, they would save wolfkind.

  Only, now that she had been found, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  After the abuse she had suffered in Larna, Seona seemed to hate all wolfkind, especially men—most especially him, a king like the one who had horribly abused her for more than a year.

  With his face pressed to the temple floor, he remembered her panicked shrieking the one and only time he’d entered her chamber. Anya, Seona’s sister and the only individual Seona permitted to tend her, had advised him to give her time. But time was one thing he did not have.

  At twenty-nine years of age, Seona was nearing the end of her pitifully short human breeding period. In order to make his vision a reality, he needed to breed her within the next few years. That left him precious little time to woo her, especially considering she pressed Anya daily for access to the magical gemstone that brought the humans over from their realm.

  He had committed to using the gemstone to send the other eleven home once they had physically recovered from their captivity. That time had come. Physicians had seen to the mending of their wounds, and their frail frames now carried healthy weight. He could stall no longer.

  Indecision ripped his insides to pieces. Return his promised lady to her home, where she longed to go, or keep her and have faith that the goddess who had been silent for decades would open the human’s heart to him, and open her womb to his seed? Keeping her while he sent the others home felt like the wrong thing to do, but how else could Danu’s plan unfold?

  Breath fogging the polished floor, he poured out his heart. “I’ve kept your laws. I’ve honored your name. I’ve cut down your enemies. I’ve sought your wisdom in every matter from large to small, but you have not blessed me with a vision since my coronation. I’ve given you my whole life. What more can I give? Will you not answer me, my Goddess? Will you not guide your servant?”

  Despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded on his forehead. A few drops splashed onto the marble. A temple servant would come with a rag and clean it up once he finished praying.

  Speaking of temple servants, where were they? The sanctuary had been deserted when he’d arrived with his guards. Normally, a youth tended the candles, ensuring none went out during his morning prayer. And where was Assaph? The high priest met him each sunrise for communion. True, Magnus had come early today, as he often did when sleep eluded him, but it was well past sunrise. Assaph should have met him at the foot of the altar by now.

  A thread of unease tickled the back of his neck. He got to his feet.

  “Assaph, I am ready for communion.” He projected his voice toward the priest’s quarters. A door of oak stood between Assaph’s residence and the sanctuary. Usually, it hung open a crack, no doubt so the priest might observe Magnus’s prayer and know when to serve communion. Today, however, the door was shut tight.

  Hearing no response, Magnus strode to the carved wood and rapped. “Assaph.” Perhaps he had overslept.

  Riggs, Magnus’s newest knight, and Anya’s lifemate, left his post by the temple doors. Coming into the sanctuary, he said, “Shall I check on him, Sire?”

  “Yes.” It was unlike Assaph to keep him waiting.

  Riggs tried the latch, but it was locked. “Please stand back, Your Majesty.” With a few steps’ start, Riggs forced his shoulder into the door, which gave as if it had been slammed by a boulder. Magnus was not surprised, since Riggs was the largest of his personal guard, the Knights of the Crescent Moon, not to mention one of the tallest and strongest men he’d ever known.

  Magnus allowed Riggs to enter Assaph’s apartment first. No lamps were lit, suggesting Assaph remained abed. He called the priest’s name again while Riggs, axe at the ready, rounded a corner.

  “Sire,” Riggs called. “He’s here.”

  Magnus followed the call into a sleeping chamber littered with overturned furniture. On the pallet was Assaph, bound and gagged but seemingly unharmed. His wide eyes reflected the gray light from an open window. Its shutters hung crookedly, as if someone had torn them open in haste.

  Riggs drew a hunting knife. He sliced the ropes binding Assaph’s hands before releasing the gag.

  Magnus hurried to fetch a cup from the cabinet. After filling it from the ewer, he crouched by the pallet. Once Assaph had rubbed the feeling back into his hands, Magnus passed him the refreshment.

  He could not imagine anyone brazen enough to raid the apartment of Chroina’s high priest. Whoever had done it would suffer. He would make sure of it.

  Striving to keep the anger from his voice, he said, “What happened? Who did this to you?”

  Assaph drank deeply and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. A simple nightshirt covered all but his legs and bare feet, and Magnus reflected he had never seen the priest without his robe or spectacles. Riggs handed the spectacles to Assaph, having plucked them from the floor.

  Assaph accepted them with a nod and dragged a hand through his close-trimmed hair. Unlike most wolfkind males, priests and temple servants shaved their faces daily. They took pride in their appearance, showing deference to Danu in their morning rituals. A shadow of beard along Assaph’s jaw struck a note of discord with Magnus. Not being allowed to attend his daily ablutions was an insult, not only to Assaph, but to the crown as well.

  Magnus could not help grinding his molars as he awaited Assaph’s answer.

  The priest swallowed the water, cup shaking in his hands. “I wish it were not so, Your Majesty,” he said past chafed lips. “But I swear on the writings of Danu it was your promised lady and a man I did not recognize. They left me like this well before dawn. Perhaps two hours ago.”

  Like a blow from a mace, shock rocked him onto his heels. “Seona? In the custody of a man?” He would have said such an accusation was impossible, but he trusted Assaph implicitly. “But how? She is well-guarded, as are all the women.” Wolfkind or human, it didn’t matter. All were protected like the precious jewels they were.

  “Not in custody, Sire,” Assaph said. “They worked together. She was active and willing in binding me and searching my apartment.”

  He could scarcely believe it. Not only had Seona rarely left her bed since her rescue from Bantus’s dungeon, but she did not tolerate the company of men.

  Riggs said, “Describe the man, please, Your Holiness.”

  Assaph nodded and moistened his lips. Addressing Riggs, he said, “Tall, though not as tall as you. Slender. His hair was not unlike yours with black curls. He wore tattered clothes beneath a gray cloak, and one shoulder hung lower than the other.”

  “Tattered clothes,” Magnus mused. “That could only be a prisoner.” With the population so low and commodities like cloth in abundance, most residents of Chroina possessed fine wardrobes.

  “I know of only one prisoner fitting that description,” Riggs said.

  “The messenger.” Magnus recalled the injured man who had ridden into Chroina two moons ago. Bilkes. He’d falsely accused Riggs of kidnapping Anya when, in fact, it had been Bilkes
who’d attempted to steal her. He’d failed in the attempt, resulting in his shoulder injury when he’d been trampled by horses. Anya had wound up in the hands of King Bantus’s trackers and would have become a prisoner of Bantus, like Seona, if Riggs hadn’t overcome incredible odds to rescue her.

  A member of Breeding First, Bilkes had been part of the conspiracy to usurp the throne and hand it over to Ari. Now, it seemed, he had Seona in his possession. His shoulder injury and the two moons he’d spent in the dungeon were just the beginning. Bilkes would suffer once he was found. He would suffer greatly.

  “Guards!” As Riggs’s three companions arrived at a run, Magnus dispatched them, one to search the dungeon for Bilkes, one to confirm Seona’s absence, and the last to bring Anya to the parlor for interviewing. She was Seona’s sister. Perhaps she knew something.

  To Riggs, he said, “Search the apartment. We must discover whether they took anything.”

  “No need to search, Sire,” Assaph said, pulling a dressing robe over his nightshirt. “They took my keys and nothing else, then left through the sanctuary door.” He motioned toward the door Riggs had forced open.

  Keys. Bilkes must have planned to raid the temple strong room. The writings of Danu were kept there, along with priceless symbols of the goddess and offerings made in her honor.

  “Assaph, if you are recovered, please gather your most trusted temple servants and inspect the strong room for missing items. When you are finished, please find us in the library.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  A quarter hour later Magnus paced the front room of Glendall’s library. Named for his mother, Queen Abigail, the series of rooms contained thousands upon thousands of volumes relating to Marann’s history and people. Every trade and academic subject was represented, preserved for what he hoped would be future generations. His knights arrived and confirmed that Seona and Bilkes were both missing.