The Spring Witch: Season of the Witch, #2

By Karpov Kinrade and Heather Hildenbrand

From USA Today bestseller and award-winner Karpov Kinrade and award-winning author Heather Hildenbrand and comes a love story that blends fable and fairytale with fantasy romance to create a spellbinding tale.

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The town of Honeysuckle has always dwelled within the shadow of the kingdom of Zyndale, protected by the royal family and their Fae magic. When they were overthrown by the dark fae, Honeysuckle became oppressed by an evil king, as were its people. Now, they live in squalor, fighting over breadcrumbs and abused by the elite who were once sworn to protect them.

I have spent my life on the edge of that town, an outlaw who steals from the rich to give to the poor.

But that's all about to change. The false king is throwing a ball to secure a wife for his son, the future ruler of our lands, and I'm going to crash it and pull off the biggest heist this kingdom has ever seen.

There's just one complication. A mysterious stranger who is too sexy for his—or my—own good, and who is making it impossible to stay invisible. He's given me a way into the ball, but he might be the reason I can't get out.

By the time the clock strikes midnight, the kingdom of Zyndale will be forever changed, and so will my life. Again.

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The Spring Witch is a standalone love story that blends fairytale elements of gender bender Robin Hood and Cinderella with a paranormal romance / fantasy romance twist. We hope you enjoy this standalone novella that is part of the Season of the Witch fantasy world.

Want more books from Karpov Kinrade & Heather Hildenbrand? Look for The Winter Witch.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daring Books
• Release date: Oct 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393874058

Book preview

The Spring WitchFull Page Image

http://KarpovKinrade.com

http://HeatherHildenbrand.com

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Copyright © 2019 Karpov Kinrade & Heather Hildenbrand

Cover Art Copyright © 2020 Karpov Kinrade

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Published by Daring Books

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First Edition

ISBN: 978-1-939559-05-0

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Book License Notes

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You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

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This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your Book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Disclaimer

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10—Epilogue

TEASER: Forever Bound by Karpov Kinrade

TEASER: Midnight Mate by Heather Hildenbrand

About Heather Hildenbrand

About Karpov Kinrade

Also by Heather Hildenbrand

Also by Karpov Kinrade

Chapter 1

The first rule of banditry is this: people see what they want to see, and it's our job to use those prejudices against them. 

When men see me, they don't see a champion archer and swordsperson trained by the most elite--if unexpected--tutors in the world. No. They see a young woman of delicate beauty, with long wavy dark hair and eyes the color of sapphires. Which means I have an advantage when I wave a carriage down that’s traveling along the bumpy road. I limp as if in need of help, my dress just disheveled enough to suggest a level of distress that is neither too minimal for my target to bother with, nor too excessive that I seem more costly a pursuit than I'm worth. 

The Jolly Jesters, my hodgepodge family cobbled together through time and trials, are in place. It is now my turn to perform. I'm not sure which I enjoy most--the acting or the fighting. Both give me a thrill unparalleled by anything else. I never would have thought I would love being an outlaw when I began this life nearly ten years ago. But, for good or for ill, the fates have a way of dragging us into the lives we were meant for, even if they are not the lives we were born to.

I give one more ruffle to my hair and bite my lips to make them extra red, then stumble into the dirt road as I hear horses clomping just around the bend. 

The driver slows as they approach me, and I school my face into the appearance of an innocent and desperate damsel. 

I study the carriage to first make sure this is a worthy target. We never shoot too high or too low. The upper middle class is the safest place to be, targeting those who are wealthy enough they can afford to lose some, and are likely also corrupt enough that my conscience--what little remains, Sharon would say--is eased. But not so high up that we paint an even larger bullseye on ourselves. Most of our marks are human, which makes this easier but also keeps the creatures with power from looking too closely at me.

This particular target seems to fit the bill perfectly. The carriage is lacquered to a bright shine and painted in rich emerald and silver--silver, not gold. Which means it belongs to a baron or well-ranking knight or lord, someone who serves the false king in his evil reign, but isn't a direct member of the royal family. They're off limits, for now at least. 

Quickly determining this is the right target--enough gain with minimal risk--I set the plan in motion. With a grace born of hard training, I fall to the ground, clutching my ankle, and lifting my skirt just enough so that some skin is visible, but not so much that my weapons can be seen.

As expected, the carriage stops, the driver peering down at me with tiny eyes set over a sharp nose. What has befallen you, Miss? he asks in a voice several octaves higher than expected by the look of him.  

I was out riding and got thrown when my horse spooked, I say, wincing ever so gently, as if I'm desperately trying to cover my pain. I fear I've twisted my ankle, I finish, a single tear welling and spilling over my cheek on command.

The driver leans back to confer with his passenger, and a moment later, the door to the carriage opens and the man who steps out momentarily stuns me. I quickly cover my shock, but I do not stop studying him. 

He's tall, at least a head taller than myself, with hair the color of ink, pulled back at the nape of his neck in a leather strap and exposing the delicate tips of his pointed ears. 

Not human then. 

Our risk factor just shot up, and yet, I am too caught in the look of him to let the danger rile me. 

His eyes are silver--not light blue, but genuine silver--and seem to glow in the settling dusk of twilight. His skin is cut like the finest marble, smooth and flawless, with a chiseled jawline, a dimpled chin and high cheekbones. He's unlike any baron or knight or lord I've ever seen. Human or not, I've never seen anyone more beautiful. Dammit woman, get your head on straight. This man is a dark fae. He's everything me and my troupe are fundamentally opposed to. I'm at war with his kind. He’s the reason the light fae have been driven from this land, leaving only the cruel rulers and the humans who serve them--at will and for profit, or by force and for scraps. Mentally smacking myself, I school my face until I am once again merely an injured woman on the side of the road. 

As he approaches me, his hand out, I offer mine. Thank you, kind sir. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along when you did.

His gaze locks with mine, and I suck in a breath as I stumble into the depths of his eyes. Alarmed by my out of character reaction, I pull my hand from his just as our fingertips brush.

Forgive me, I say, turning my face away, but I hope I'm not being an imposition. Inwardly I cringe. May the three-faced goddess forgive me for acting such a fool.

Sharon would laugh outright if she saw me now.

Not at all, the man says, his voice deep and cultured. I am... he pauses, cocking his head. I am Lord Tyler, he says, finally.  Allow me to escort you to your home. Surely you cannot walk in this condition.

I nod shyly, allowing a loose curl of hair to fall over my eyes. He grasps my hand and an electric thrill runs through my arm at the touch. I look up at him and notice his eyes widen. Did he feel it too? 

No matter. Whatever this is, it's a distraction I don't need.

As he pulls me to standing, I stumble, falling against his broad, muscular chest. He doesn't notice when my hand slips into his pocket and pulls out the parchment I’d hoped would be there. 

Goodness, I'm so sorry, I say, righting myself. I am so worried about my horse. Let me try calling for her one more time.

I whistle in the way I know will bring Starlight to my side quickly. When she arrives within moments, the man raises an eyebrow. It would appear she didn't get far at all, he says. 

It would appear. I pull from his support and fling myself onto my horse with ease, not bothering to ride like a lady at all. So sorry for the trouble. Thank you again for your help.

I don't bother waiting for a response. Instead, I turn and take off down the road, giving one short and two longer bird calls to let the Jolly Jesters know