Black Hellebore
The love story of Brishen and Ildiko continues in this Wraith Kings novella, set after the events in THE IPPOS KING – WK #3.
To protect his people and save his kingdom from destruction, Brishen Khaskem made an unthinkable sacrifice, stripping all but the youngest Kai of their magic in order to transform himself and four others into powerful Wraith Kings who would battle the ancient malice known as the galla.
But victory comes at a high price. The loss of their sorcerous heritage is a bitter consequence for the Kai. When an unexpected enemy threatens the lives of his beloved wife Ildiko and his adopted daughter, the queen regnant, Brishen may pay the highest price of all. What will be the ultimate cost of reviving a dead legacy and regaining a lost hope?
A tale of trust and deception.
Excerpt
Satisfied there was no enemy waiting on the other side, Brishen pushed the door wider a third time, stepping over the body that held it closed. A quick sweep of the nursery confirmed his worst fears. Tarawin’s two nurses lay unconscious on the floor in front of the chairs on which they must have been seated. A pair of teacups and an overturned teapot lay between them.
He turned to check the guard. Dendarah, one of the royal guards who’d risked her life to bring the newly orphaned queen of Bast-Haradis safely to Saggara and ensure the continuity of the Khaskem line, lay much like the sentries outside, senseless. Whatever had reduced her to this state hadn’t worked quickly enough. He glanced at the door bar raised out of its brackets so that it listed to one side on the bracket closest to the hinge. Dendarah’s fingertips rested against it, as if she’d managed to lift it enough before collapsing. A guard, a pair of nurses, but no child queen regnant to be found in the nursery.
His heartbeat didn’t slow as he approached the door connecting the nursery to his and Ildiko’s chamber. There was no bar on either side, and no locks. Hope was a thing unconquered even in the face of grim reality. He knew what he would—or wouldn’t—find there, yet still he hoped.
Unlike the nursery, his bedchamber remained shuttered against the day, still swathed in shadows. But Night, and her sister Darkness, hid nothing from him. He saw the empty bed with its covers neatly made, and the table where he sometimes shared a private meal with Ildiko, its surface set with a teapot and two cups. The chair she always claimed as hers was shoved to one side as if she’d risen abruptly from her seat. Beyond that, the room was undisturbed, unoccupied, and Brishen drowned in the horror of it.
Someone had taken his wife and daughter.