Silverhands

By Megan Derr

Annia was happy being a humble miller alongside her stepbrother—but her stepbrother prefers that Annia agree to be his wife. When she refuses, he brutally cuts off her hands, and Annia flees when he falls asleep. With no one to turn to, and nowhere to go, she leaves the only home she's ever known in hopes a new one might be out there somewhere.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Megan Derr
• Release date: Oct 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393603160

Megan Derr

Megan is a long-time resident of queer romance and keeps herself busy reading and writing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she’s not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her wife and cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers and can be found all over the internet.meganderr.compatreon.com/meganderrmeganderr.blogspot.comfacebook.com/[e-mail]@meganaderr

Book preview

Annia was happy being a humble miller alongside her stepbrother—but her stepbrother prefers that Annia agree to be his wife. When she refuses, he brutally cuts off her hands, and Annia flees when he falls asleep. With no one to turn to, and nowhere to go, she leaves the only home she's ever known in hopes a new one might be out there somewhere.

Silverhands

By Megan Derr

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Samantha M. Derr

Cover designed by Aisha Akeju

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

Third Edition August 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Megan Derr

Printed in the United States of America

SilveRhaNds

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Megan Derr

Once upon a time there was a beautiful young woman, named Annia, who was possessed of flawless dark skin, hair the red-gold of autumn, and eyes the gold of a summer sun. She was admired and envied by all in the village, and many dreamed of making her their bride, but none coveted her more than her stepbrother.

She was lovely in appearance, possessed of a kind heart and a bright smile, but it was her hands he most obsessed over. They were strong hands, from keeping house and assisting in their humble mill all day, but soft, the fingers long and elegant, easy when petting animals and deft when sewing, strong when cooking and gentle when stroking a brow at the end of a long day.

He declared he loved her as the sun loves the sky, and wanted her not for a stepsister, but for a wife. Dismayed at his revelation, she begged him to give up such a notion, that though she loved him as any sister loved a brother, she had no desire to be his wife.

Her stepbrother begged and pleaded, but still she would not give in. He raged and ranted, screamed and shouted, but still she refused and urged him to let the notion go, to let them be happy siblings once more.

Enraged beyond all reason, he determined that if he could not have what he wanted, no one would—not even her. Dragging her out to the chopping block, he there took an ax and cut off her hands.

Overcome by pain and fear, Annia passed out.

When she woke in the dark, it was to find someone had carefully bandaged and tended her wounds. The village healer, probably, and bitterness got hold of Annia for a moment at the realization the man had just left her there. Maybe her stepbrother had spun a convincing enough lie.

Heavy snores filled the room, along with the stench of alcohol. Her stepbrother was passed out on a pallet in front of the fire, probably because he'd wanted to keep an eye on her, and later he'd been too drunk to move.

Stifling her tears, Annia did her best to pack what food and supplies she could and fled the only home she had ever known.

On and on she traveled, resting only in brief bursts, keeping hidden whenever she heard people approaching. Eventually, however, her food ran out and exhaustion got the better of her, and Annia was forced to seek shelter in the hollow of a great tree.

The sound of horses and murmuring voices woke her a second time, and she cried out in fear—only to be stopped by a man with kind gray eyes and a warm smile. He was a handsome man, with brown skin and soft-looking, dark curly hair, dressed in the finest clothes she'd ever seen.

Though she was at first afraid, eventually the man convinced her to let him help her, and into his carriage she went.