*Enjoy this sample! "Champion of the Fey" coming soon!*
The enchanted gold dust spiraled in a vortex as if a miniature tornado spun within the vial. The glass container itself was not much longer or wider than Lugh’s index finger. Magic twinkled off the dust, as though chips of stars mixed with the gold.
Lugh glanced up from the vial to the row of terraced houses. They had the architectural appeal of bay windows and artistic brickwork. Even still, this neighborhood in Bristol appeared unremarkable compared to most other modern, middle class neighborhoods in England. If not for the reaction of the gold dust in the vial, Lugh would not have guessed that one of the artifacts might have found its way to such an unassuming place. Somewhere in the heart of this mundane humanity, seemingly devoid of even the faintest spark of magic, lay a fragment of the ancient realm of fey.
Even this bit of magic in his hand, this vial of enchantment, seemed ridiculously insignificant in the hands of a Sidhe. And yet held within its simple magicraft it harbored the fragile hope that might save what little survived of the fey. The notion was laughable. The likelihood of success so slim as to be the width of a fairy’s eyelash from total impossibility. Fool’s errand this might be, what else had he? Accept defeat and surrender to the Fade with noble stoicism?
For most of the morning, Lugh watched the house from his perch on the top of a stone garden wall just across the narrow lane. Secure in the belief that his Glamour rendered him invisible to the eyes of mortals, Lugh debated his options. Direct assault? Not his usual strategy, but not beneath him, either. The double-paned, wood-framed windows likely would shatter beneath a precise kick. Then there was the consideration of someone summoning the constables and that was always a needless hassle.
Without having seen inside the building, Lugh could not merely teleport into the house. How ignoble of him to contemplate peeping through the window like a tomcat. Still, if it brought him the prize he sought, then nicety must give way to necessity.
As Lugh debated his options, a young blonde woman emerged from the house. Her loose hair fell in unkempt locks down her back and shoulders. The patchwork peasant skirt flattered her lovely, long legs. The skirt had a gypsy look to it, as did the odd choices of tops. The long, pale blue sleeves flared around delicate forearms, and a dark, tight-fitting top covered it, so the elbow-length sleeves contoured to her thin arms and the feminine curves of her chest.
A seductive grin tugged at his lips. Now charming beautiful women was one of his specialties.
*end of sample*
"Champion of the Fey" coming soon!