Impossible

By Jill Gregory

A novella from New York Times Bestselling Author Jill Gregory. When love and magic come together NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE.

Beautiful Princess Erinn of Marlbury comes from a long line of sorcerers -- but she feels like a failure. Though her mother was a powerful witch, Erinn has never come into her own powers and she needs them now -- desperately -- to defend her castle from the Duke of Bordmoor, her family's longtime foe. But how can an enchantress without powers save her home and her people after she is kidnapped by her enemy? Love and magic swirl delightfully as enemies find destiny and joy in each others arms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jill Gregory
• Release date: Nov 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463895283

Book preview

IMPOSSIBLE

Jill Gregory

Copyright 2002; Digital Edition published by Jill Gregory, 2018

Cover design by Tammy Seidick Design

Digital formatting by A Thirsty Mind Publishing and Design

Smashwords Edition, 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, may be reproduced in any form by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic and print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. The author appreciates your support.

With love and kisses to Larry and to Rachel,

and to my favorite magical ladies, Nora, Marianne, and Ruth.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

List of Titles

About the Author

Reviews

Prologue

A golden moon rose over the Cliffs of Murgullen as Cyrus the Sorcerer stood in a patch of moonlight and frowned down at his three young protégés, huddling in their cloaks upon the damp grass. Their faces shone pale and hopeful in the shimmering light.

Each of you, Cyrus said in a thin, disgusted tone, "has failed. Failed abominably. Not one of you, not a single one—Cyrus’s voice boomed out and the sea tossing fitfully below began to churn—has received a passing grade upon this, your final and most important test."

Young wizard-in-training Barnaby threw his long, thin body backward with a groan, sprawling upon the earth in abject frustration. Red-haired Ophelia covered her freckled face with her hands and gave a great quivering sigh. Elwas, whose father was a quarter elf, and whose great-grandmother had been a sorceress of some repute, banged his fist on the ground. His pointed ears twitched as he glared at his mentor.

With all due respect, sir, that is not our fault, but yours. That exam you gave us was impossible. The things you asked us to do—no wizard can do such things. It goes beyond what we’ve been taught.

He’s right, sir. Barnaby pushed himself up to a sitting position. His narrow, handsome face was even paler than usual, and he struggled to keep his voice calm. ‘We don’t mean any disrespect, but if you’d asked us to perform something reasonable for our exam, like changing an oaf into a prince, or concocting a healing potion for boils, or making grass grow in the dead of winter, rather than something quite impossible."

Enough! Cyrus fixed him with a quelling glance. What I asked of each of you was nothing more than to apply yourselves, to incorporate all that you have learned in several areas of our craft, plus a touch of imagination, ingenuity, and intelligence. Being a wizard is not merely about charms and tricks—only fools believe that. One needs creativity to make real magic!

But, sir. Ophelia swallowed hard as she gazed up at the imposing figure of the sorcerer in his pointed hat, with his tangled gray beard and flowing robes the color of the mist swirling at his feet. You wanted us to end the feud between King Vort of Marlbury and Duke Tynon of Bordmoor. Everyone knows that their noble families have been fighting one another for a hundred years!

And what does that have to do with anything? Cyrus shot a cold glare at her.

Well, it’s just... impossible! she sputtered. How are we to end such a deep and long-standing feud?

Especially since wizards are not allowed to tamper with the minds or hearts of humans, Elwas pointed out. You taught us that yourself, sir!

And for a century the royal family of Marlbury and the Ilachland dukes of Bordmoor have despised each other, killed each other, killed each other—

Precisely, Cyrus snapped. And that is why this was a challenging but certainly not impossible test of your powers. The fact that each of you failed does not reflect upon the challenge, it reflects upon your own abilities. Obviously none of you is ready to advance to the next level of your training.

Sir, we are ready. We are proficient in every area. But this... this is impossible!

So you say. Cyrus’s displeasure was clear in the downward curve of his lips.

No wizard or sorceress could meet this challenge! Barnaby burst out. Why, even you, sir, could not stop a feud like this. There is simply no way—

Is there not? Now Cyrus’s voice had become silken. But it was edged in ice. He looked at each of his pupils in turn, and there was thinly veiled impatience in his countenance. "There is a way. to meet this challenge. There is always a way. Would I have presented it to you otherwise? I think not."

The three shrank a little beneath the glitter of his eyes. Cyrus noted the confusion, despair, and frustration on each face. He fought his own disappointment and reminded himself that teaching required patience. His students truly had no notion how to proceed. Each of the three before him had great potential and shining talent, but clearly they were not ready to advance. He sighed.

Ending this feud is by no means impossible. He spoke in a more level tone. Any wizard with skill, experience, and a drop of imagination can accomplish it. He cleared his throat, then lifted his arms, so that the flowing robes blew in the sudden wild gust of the wind.

Cyrus closed his eyes. Watch. His arms lifted still higher, above his head, as if reaching, reaching toward the stars. And... He shouted over the rising rush of the wind. It grew to a low roar. The students grabbed at the earth as they were nearly blown over the side of the cliff.

"Learn!"

Chapter One

Two days later

The vision woke her in the blackest hour of night.

Erinn lurched up in her bed in the high-ceilinged chamber, staring without recognition at the crimson silk bed-hangings, which blew softly in the breeze. For one terrifying moment she didn’t recognize anything around her, not the satin coverlet upon her bed, or the gilded bench before the flickering hearth fire, or the twin bronze chests near the foot of the bed.

Golden moonlight glimmered across the room, but she saw only the man, the man in her vision. He filled her mind. His face was lean, dark, so incredibly handsome that she could scarcely breathe—handsome in spite of the scar slashing down the left side of his jaw—or perhaps because of it. It added to the aura of strength and toughness and danger that clung to him, real as armor. His hair was dark as the night sky, his body strong. His eyes pierced hers. They were bluer than the Sea of Azul. So blue they hurt. Then the scent of musk touched her, whisked past her even as the vision faded into blackness, and the man’s face, which had so forcefully and completely filled her mind, vanished like mist.

And her own bedchamber reappeared, cool and flowing with moonlight. Erinn drew a deep breath, trembling still, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She was shivering, but not from the chill night air. From the vision. The man.

Who is he? she muttered to herself, as she hastily dressed, yanking on a dark-green woolen gown, fumbling in the darkness.

My lady? She heard Tira, her lady-in-waiting, stir in the antechamber.

She called out softly, No, Tira, stay abed. There is nothing I want.

Very well, then, my lady, the sleepy voice murmured, and the bedcoverings rustled once more.

Erinn waited a moment before snatching up her fur-trimmed crimson cloak and tossing it around her shoulders. Quietly, she eased open the chamber door and edged out into the stone corridor.

The castle was asleep, and only dimly lit by tapers, as she made her way silently down a curving staircase, through a long hallway, and then outside, bypassing the great hall and the kitchen in favor of a side door that led to the courtyard.

Her mind was roiling as she made her way to the gardens, where tiny spring buds were just beginning to sprout upon the peach and apple trees and delicate flowers nestled just beneath the earth. Moonlight spilled upon the smooth stone bench, and there was little wind—yet still, the night was cold. Early spring in Marlbury was like that—but in another fortnight everything would be abloom and the nights would become soft, soft as a lover’s kiss, she thought—and then gave her head a tiny shake.

What would you know about a lover’s kiss? she asked herself silently, hugging her arms around her body as she huddled on the bench and watched the swimming stars above. She’d never had a lover; in fact, she’d only been kissed twice. Her ever-vigilant brothers had seen to that. Though Cadur and Braden amused themselves with every unmarried wench in the kingdom, they felt no one was good enough for their little sister, and no matter how much Erinn complained to her father about their constant interference whenever a young knight or noble tried to engage her in conversation, Cadur and Braden did just as they pleased.

They insisted that when the time came they would find her a suitable husband. In the meantime, they took turns planting themselves beside her at every ball and feast, glowering watchfully at any male guest who dared speak to her. Once, though, Sir Rudyan had followed her after a round of dancing, and stolen a kiss just outside the great hall. He’d been drunk, though, and the kiss had been rough and wet and unpleasant—not to mention that it had gone on far too long. She hadn’t enjoyed it in the least. That had been quite disappointing, for she’d always dreamed about her first kiss and how wonderful it would be.

There had been one more after that. This time, it was the charming fair-haired son of the Duke of Chalmers, a young man her father had often told her would make a good match for her. He had paid quite a bit of attention to her when they’d met at a feast in Amelonia, and even Cadur and Braden had kept their distance, at her father’s instructions, though they hadn’t looked pleased about it. And young