The Winter Witch: Season of the Witch, #1

By Karpov Kinrade and Heather Hildenbrand

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

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In the remote village of Willowdale there lives a people haunted by an ancient curse. Once a prosperous and lush land, for thousands of years the kingdom has suffered under perpetual winter. Crops refuse to grow, poverty and hunger spread. People die.

Their only chance of survival depends on trade. But the one road between the lands passes through the treacherous Ice Mountains, where the cursed and banished prince lives. The prince who holds his kingdom in an icy grip.

To keep the trade path open, the prince demands a sacrifice. Once a year, a villager is chosen and must trek to the peak of the Ice Mountains to offer their life in exchange for safe passage between lands.

This year, I'm the sacrifice.

There's one big difference, however. I'm not an ordinary villager being sent to die. I'm a powerful winter witch, the first born to our village in over a thousand years, and I've been sent to kill.

But when the banished prince saves me from imminent death, everything changes. He's not the monster I believed him to be, and his tenderness and keen intelligence grips my heart and makes me question everything I once thought true.

Now I must decide the impossible. Do I kill him to save my kingdom? Or let what is growing between us save us both, thus damning everyone I love in the process?

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The Winter Witch is a standalone love story that blends fairytale elements of Beauty and the Beast and the Bulgarian fable The Little Girl and the Winter Whirlwinds 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.

For more from Karpov Kinrade and Heather Hildenbrand, check out The Spring Witch (Season of the Witch, 2).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daring Books
• Release date: Oct 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393779445

Book preview

The Winter WitchFull Page Image

To all the witches who never stopped believing, and to all the witches who are just now starting to believe again. We see you.

~Lux & Heather

#HeatLuxBooks #BadWitchesUnite

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Copyright © 2019 Karpov Kinrade & Heather Hildenbrand

Cover Art Copyright © 2019 Karpov Kinrade

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Published by Daring Books

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First Edition

ISBN: 978-1-939559-64-7

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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: The Spring Witch

TEASER: Forever Bound by Karpov Kinrade

TEASER: Midnight Mate by Heather Hildenbrand

About Karpov Kinrade

About Heather Hildenbrand

Also by Karpov Kinrade

Also by Heather Hildenbrand

Chapter 1

Awisp of light pierces the darkness, the candle flickering bravely against the penetrating night, and then, in a blink, thousands of flames join the first, illuminating the ancient forest in which we are gathered.

Our matriarch stands before the largest Sophos Tree in our village, her arms outstretched, the long white robe she wears blending into the white bark of the tree and the winter snow that blankets our world. Her voice is melodic and firm. Each light, alone, is nothing. But together, we can outshine the sun.

The villagers chant back, repeating her words.

I'm kneeled before her in my own white cloak, my long dark hair undone and trailing down my back in soft curls. The cold bite of our never-ending winter nips at my ears and nose, and I sniff as quietly as I can and pray to the goddess I do not sneeze and ruin the ceremony.

Tonight, we baptize Adara Alexander with the sacred waters of the Ice Rivers. Adara is the flame born in the cold, the defender of humankind, sent to free us from the curse that plagues our land and our people. A Winter Witch, the first to be born in our village in over a thousand years, and the strongest we have ever seen. Our prayers to the goddess have been answered. We have been sent a savior. May the goddess bless Adara, she says.

May the goddess bless Adara, the villagers respond.

I look towards the ground, focusing my attention on the crust of snow forming over the forest mulch, and she pours the pitcher of ice water over my head. I force myself not to shiver as my hair instantly freezes.

May the goddess guide her path, she says.

The villagers once again repeat her litany, a chorus of voices adding their magic to the words spoken each year over a new sacrifice.

But this year the words are different.

This year, I'm the difference.

Normally, the chosen one would be selected by lottery. There isn't a family in Willowdale who hasn't lost someone to this annual slaughter. But this year, we all knew I would be the one to go. I came of age last month, just in time to be offered.

But I am not being sent to die like the others.

I'm being sent to kill.

I’ve known it my whole life. Trained. Studied. Prepared. And now it is time.

As she completes the ceremony, I stand to face her, and she pulls me into a hug, kissing both my wet cheeks. Carry the flames of the sun in your heart, my sweet granddaughter. And come home to me.

Tears sting my eyes as my grandmother releases me and turns me to face our clan. Tonight, we celebrate the Festival of Lights. Drink, Eat and Be Merry, good people. Our fates will soon turn toward the better. I have spoken.

The crowd cheers, and as I help my grandmother slip her thick cloak over her frail shoulders, someone begins playing a fiddle. I toss my own cloak on, wrapping my wet hair and tucking it away. Then I smile as everyone begins singing the familiar folk song as they make their way back to town.

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The candles lit

Darkness outwit

We sing to usher in the dawn

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The sun will rise

As winter dies

We sing until the snow is gone

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Ho Ho Halliho the light

No No Nevermore the night

Ho Ho Halliho the dawn

No No Winter now be gone

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After the first round, harmonies are added and the melodic refrains echoes throughout town, which tonight is decked out with tables laden with food and wine. There will be dancing, entertainment, and all manner of revelry that lasts until morning.

It's normally my favorite night of the year. Even as a child I was allowed to stay up all night, eat whatever I wanted and run wild with the magic of the evening.

But tonight, I will partake of very little, as I need my sleep before my treacherous journey tomorrow. Always, I’ve wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of the merriment. To be the sacrifice, celebrated in glory for one night, only to die the next. Now I know. It is a somber thing even if I’m not going to my death.

My grandmother takes my arm, and we walk slowly together, trailing the others and enjoying the stillness of the cool winter night.

What if I fail? I ask, the fear weighing heavy on my soul.

I clutch at the vial that hangs around my neck and feel the warmth of it to the depths of my soul. I have collected a drop of blood from every villager and mixed it with the sap of the Sophos Tree and a crushed petal of a Fire Flower. Legend has it these bold red beauties were a summer flower before the curse, yet they continue to dot the snowy landscape of the mountains to the west even still, and are a symbol of the enduring persistence of hope. The last ingredient was my magic, infused into it over the course of a full moon cycle using a spell I created over many years; the most complicated one I've ever performed. It is now ready, and so am I.

At least, I hope I am.

You will not fail, my grandmother says softly, her lilting voice a comfort as it has been all my life. You have the sun's fire in your heart. It will guide you.

We walk the rest of the way in companionable silence, the sound of music and laughter spilling out from the village square, audible even from this distance.

A symphony of night birds sings from the highest branches of the trees, sharing their secrets with one another. What do you see, little birds? I wonder, glancing up into the canopy that shines with moonbeams and twinkles with