By Love Reclaimed: The Lost Shrines, #4

By Amberlyn Holland

Ranulf never expected to return to the home of his family's oldest rival. But to stop the violent plans of a blood-sorcerer, he must protect the island's magic. And face the only woman he ever loved. He doesn't expect it to be easy, but the family is stonewalling him at every turn and Ran knows something more than an ancient feud is behind the deception.

Years ago, Tara was forced to make a choice: Ran or her family. She's never regretted staying for her siblings, but she's never forgotten the boy she loved. Now he's back and she's facing the choice all over again. Protect the family's dark secret by lying to him? Or trust him with her heart and risk destroying everything generations of Tirnan's had built?

With enemy ships only days away, Tara and Ran have to move past the hurt and secrets if there is any hope of saving the island and stopping a madman bent on ruling the world with blood magic and terror.

Check out in this clean fantasy romance series featuring Hound-shifters, determined heroines, adventure, magic and happily-ever-afters. 

Or binge read the complete Lost Shrines series:

By Vengeance Guided, Book 1:  
Torn between love and duty, Lia and Wyn confront the blood magic menacing everything they're sworn to protect. Even though it means sacrificing the connection growing between them.
By Destiny Bound, Book 2: 
Yve and Maddyn overcome distrust  and secrets to find a mythical labyrinth and stop an assasin before he unleashes dark magic. 
By Blood Betrayed, Book 3:
With an army approaching and dark sorcery threatening, Selena and Phelan brave enemy territory together in a desperate attempt to protect a shrine and Selena's family.
By Love Reclaimed, Book 4:
Tara and Ran have to move the beyond the hurt and secrets of their past if there is any hope of stopping a madman bent on ruling the world with blood magic and terror.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amberlyn Holland
• Release date: Jul 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386762454

Amberlyn Holland

Amberlyn writes epic fantasy romance and re-imagined fairy tales featuring dragon-shifters, fierce princesses, magic, and happily-ever-afters. She grew up reading her older sister’s SFF collection and her mother’s category romances so it’s only natural her storytelling leans toward magic, romance and adventure. Amberlyn currently lives in Northern New York where her writing schedule, and life, revolve around the whims of her dog. When not catering to a demanding terrier or getting lost in books, she enjoys crafting, watching football and hockey, and hanging out with her husband. If you want to keep up to date on new releases and special events, as well as receive exclusive content like a free digital copy of Kiss the Dragon, sign up for her newsletter at http://www.amberlynholland.com/newsletter/   

Book preview

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Tirnan House, Milesan Isles

RANULF of Alwyn had arrived.

The thought pounded along with the too-fast thud of her heartbeat as Tara rushed through the halls of Tirnan House. Haphazardly, she twisted her damp hair into some semblance of order as she went, knowing it was a futile effort. Tara damned the impulse that caught her halfway across the island when the winds died down and the rain eased. When the unseasonable storm that had kept the weekly dispatch ship at bay for three days finally relented and allowed it to dock.

Along with the usual messages and supplies, this run it carried a man she hadn't seen in years. A man she had never forgotten.

A man who could bring to light buried secrets. Who could ruin her family and destroy everything generations of Tirnans had built.

Despite the urgency she felt, Tara paused to shrug out of the cloak that had kept the worst of the rain off her. Then she smoothed the creases out her dress as best as she could. Using the momentary diversion to take a few bracing deep breaths, Tara tried to settle her nerves before entering the vaulted entry hall. Before she had to greet Ranulf and pretend everything was fine.

Unfortunately, her respite lasted a breath too long.

The front doors opened with a rushing surge of wind, only to be slammed closed again seconds later.

Ranulf, Lord of Alwyn. Tavers, butler for two generations of Tirnans, announced the arrival with traditional formality.

Welcome to Tirnan House.

Tara winced when she realized her older brother had beaten her to the entry to greet their unwanted guest. Veryn’s irritation and anger cooled the greeting. 

"However, as I informed the Council, the vineyards take a great deal of energy and focus at this time of year.  Too much for uninvited guests to expect the family's attention. Tavers will be available, though, should you need anything during your brief stay."

The sharp, icy disdain of Veryn's voice echoed through the cavernous front entry, and Tara bit her lip to hold back her groan.

Tara understood Veryn's frustration and the unease fueling it. But antagonizing the man as soon as he set foot in their home was not going to help them keep Ran from asking uncomfortable questions.

Despite her trepidation at seeing Ran again, Tara needed to intervene before Veryn said, or did, something to make the precarious situation even worse. Normally, she envied her brother's forthright, aggressive approach. Things were already so out of hand, though, she feared the slightest misstep might plunge them over a dangerous precipice their family would never recover from.

Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Tirnan. Lord Caerwyn sends his greetings and gratitude as well, Ran responded politely, no hint of rancor or sarcasm in his tone.

The voice, strong and deep, stopped her in her tracks. It reverberated through her with a dozen memories she'd tried to forget. For a moment, Tara forgot how to breathe.

She'd had weeks to prepare herself for his arrival. No matter how much they'd tried to convince Ran and the Council his visit to their island wasn't necessary, she'd known, deep down, it was a futile effort.

The Warlord Tresk and his sorcerer were finally showing their hand, and even the Council could no longer hide their head in the sand. Could no longer pretend there was no threat to the Milesan Isles or its people. When Ran's brother shoved incontrovertible proof under their noses, they'd had no choice but to take serious the danger Tresk and Hafgan posed.

Now they were scrambling to prove they deserved their appointment to the ruling body. The Council was eager to undo past mistakes and insistent on everyone working with Alwyn to protect the treasures and magic of the Isles. Ran's visit had initially been couched as a request that Veryn put off with a variety of excuses. When the requests became demands worded in diplomatic language, Veryn protested that the Tirnans had protected their island and the Sword for generations without any help from rival noble families. He'd implied the demand was an insult to their family, but his argument fell on deaf ears.

The request ultimately became a Council decree after weeks of back and forth. Then, of course, the storm had blown up to keep Ran's ship at sea.

Tara had ample time to prepare herself to see him again. And, until his voice wrapped around her, she really believed she had. Believed she'd put aside the childish infatuation.

With her lip caught between her teeth, Tara inhaled deeply before slowly let it out, forcing herself to shove down the memories. Those stolen moments, when the entire world had narrowed down to two teenagers sharing their first kiss.

Grudgingly, her brother intoned the appropriate greeting. A little late, but it gave Tara a reprieve. Maybe she wouldn't have to interfere after all. Maybe she could take a few more hours to gird herself for small talk and meaningless pleasantries over dinner.

Edging closer to the stairs, and feeling like a coward, Tara stayed in the shadows and contemplated Ranulf, safely unseen in her hiding place.

He was older, of course. Taller and broader than the boy in her memory. Now, he towered several inches over Veryn.

Yet he still looked very much like the Ran who had held her, careful of his own strength. The pale hair spilling past his shoulders, twisted with traditional braids of his Tribe heritage. The light blue eyes that always watched her with patience and earnest, bare emotion.

Always, except for those last moments.

After her father discovered them together on the beach near the cave. After he'd berated and reviled Ran, mocking him for his barbarian blood and his unnatural Attribute.

Ran hadn't looked at her with gentle adoration then.

Their last time together, he had stared at her with confused betrayal while she turned her back on him and walked away without a word.

She'd seen him with his brothers a time or two in the years since, at Council gatherings and celebrations.

It surprised her how much they looked alike. Yet how very different they seemed. Even from a distance. Despite Ran's size, there was a gentleness in his eyes and his voice. All three of the Hounds, along with their foster brother, Lord Alwyn, were the embodiment of Milesan warriors. But something in the way Ran held himself, the careful way he didn't loom or impose, made him feel safe to Tara. His brothers all had a sharper bite of cynicism in their eyes. A dangerous set to their shoulders. And a charm that smoothed over those rougher edges.

Ran was a quiet well. A protector and defender more than a militant soldier, taking the fight to the enemy.

Or, perhaps, that was a fancy fueled by the fact that he'd been her first love. Only love.

I'm here to warn you that Hafgan may have targeted Tirnan, Ran said into the harsh silence Veryn allowed to drag out. There is a possibility he's going to attempt to infiltrate or invade the island. I'm just here to help.

You're only here because Caerwyn bullied the Council into agreeing to force you on us. There is no danger to the Sword. Tirnans have been protecting it for centuries. We've never needed any help. We especially have no need of a counterfeit Alwyn to take care of our own.

Tara wanted to groan, but she wasn't ready to draw attention to herself just yet.

Her brother had a knack for insulting people without even trying. And today he was trying.

"My brother didn't bully anyone. Ran kept his voice even and calm, though he emphasized his relationship to Caerwyn. Adopted or not, she knew how close Ran felt to the Alwyns. There is a very real danger, and the Council agrees. I'm not here because anyone thinks you're not competent. I'm here because we've spent years learning what Tresk and Hafgan are capable of. I have experience with the enemy that you don't."

Veryn snorted, disgust and disbelief obvious in the sound.

If there really is a danger, no doubt you and your brothers brought it on us with your never-ending quest for vengeance. You see Hafgan's shadow wherever you look. But he's not here. And there's no need for you to be either.

Ran’s mouth tightened, for the first time hinting at the frustration simmering beneath the calm but the rest of his expression remained smooth and polite.

There's a possibility Hafgan and Tresk will be coming here. The magic Hafgan has been relying on in Marnak is failing him, and we've narrowed down three places they may try to usurp in order to replenish his power. Tirnan is one of them. This island is in danger.

We can protect the Sword. Without help, Veryn reiterated. Then tilted his head slyly. We've been doing it for centuries without a single thief ever entering the Temple. No one has even come close to touching the treasure we were tasked to safeguard.

The slight was uncalled for, and Tara winced again, wishing she was near enough to pinch her brother. Ran's foster parents died protecting the Cauldron from the sorceress who'd infiltrated their island and attempted to steal it for Hafgan.

Ran's expression remained impassive, though the line of his jaw was a little tighter, the set of his shoulders a little tenser.

It's not just the Sword, Ran said, an edge creeping into his voice. There is a cave somewhere on the island that may be what Hafgan is really after.

Tara tensed. This was their greatest fear realized. It had been worrying enough that he might notice the unusual atmosphere on the island, but if he discovered the cave...

If he found the altar cave, there would be no hiding their troubling secret.

There are several caves around the island, Veryn growled, words hard and tight, spoken around his clenched jaw. Nothing different than on Alwyn. If you and your brothers spent a little more time on your home island rather than chasing demons, you might remember what happens when water wears away at rock.

This is a special cave, one used as a shrine to the Goddess in ancient times. As you mentioned, my brothers and I have gained a lot of experience chasing those demons. Ran relaxed back into a calm posture, his expression bland. We've become very good at protecting and defending these sorts of things. You can go back to worrying about your grapes. I'll take care of keeping everyone here safe and protect the Isles from the danger Hafgan and Tresk represent.

Tara pressed her fingers to her mouth to stifle her reaction.

Suggesting that Veryn couldn't defend the island or their family without help was a low, deliberate blow and Tara knew she couldn't hide any longer. Ran was seconds away from goading her brother into violence. Committing that kind of violation against hospitality was certain to call even more unwanted attention from the Alwyns and the Council. She needed to interrupt before Veryn did something irreversible.

Shoving all the newly stirred up memories and emotions deep, Tara schooled her face into a cool, placid expression and stepped out of concealment.

His eyes were on the landing before she moved into view, and she remembered, too late, how his shapeshifter gift enhanced all his senses. No doubt, he'd known someone was hiding in the shadows the entire time. For a second, she wanted to duck out of sight again and run far away. Unfortunately, they lived on an island, and that wasn't nearly far enough to flee.

Instead, she pinched her lips into a thin line, lifted her chin and descended the stairs at an unhurried pace.

***

You can go back to worrying about your grapes. I'll take care of keeping everyone here safe and protect the Isles from the danger Hafgan and Tresk represent.

Ran knew he was over the line. That skirting the edges of insult was not going to ingratiate him with the angry, inhospitable Lord of Tirnan. But he'd had enough of the dismissive condescension last time he was on this island. He wasn't going to stand for it this time. Couldn't afford to. There was too much at stake for him to roll over and slink away. The mission. His family's safety. Pretty much the entire continent and the Isles themselves were at risk if Hafgan's plan succeeded.

Failing here could mean the end of everything. And he'd already lost too much time, wrangling with Tirnan before Caerwyn convinced the Council to intercede. And the unexpected storm had put him further behind. While it seemed unlikely Veryn would call on the magic of his Attribute for what was ultimately a brief irritant, Ran couldn't completely dismiss the possibility.

Veryn's lips parted, no doubt to say something scathing, but the sound of footsteps hurrying across the upper landing distracted them both.

Ran had known Tara was there all along but had tried not to dwell on her presence.

She'd been impossible to ignore, and while he'd pretended to keep his attention steady on Veryn, he'd been unabashedly aware of her every movement.

The soft rush of her steps, the hesitant pause just out of sight. Her scent, lemon and mint, exactly as he remembered it. Unchanged in the intervening years. It had drifted down, enveloping him in memories and heartache best left forgotten. Her breath and her heartbeat, rising and falling and racing in time to the increasingly heated conversation, had been a distraction he'd refused to allow himself to indulge in.

A conflicted itch crawled through his chest, uncertain whether to be hurt or relieved that she was hiding from him.

Because, despite what he'd assured his brothers and Lia, what he'd told himself over and over again on the journey here, Ran wasn't prepared to see her.

Tara stepped out into the glowing afternoon light streaming over the wide landing of the grand staircase and the itch in his chest became a sharp, desperate constriction.

Beautiful.

Even more than he remembered. Her pale hair had deepened into golden waves. Rather than the simple braid she'd once worn, it was now twisted loosely on top of her head and it spilled in delicate twists to frame soft hazel eyes. The last of her adolescent uncertainty had burned away, though she maintained the aura of softness that belied the steel he knew lurked under the surface. Years of only occasional glimpses across ballrooms and Council Halls had done nothing to prepare Ran for the bone-deep shiver of need that trembled through him when she appeared at the top of the stairs.

There was no time to indulge himself in regrets and lost chances. This wasn't the time or the place. There was too much else to consider.

Even if he had the luxury to allow his feelings and memories free reign, Tara had made it clear he wasn't enough. Nothing had changed in the intervening years.