Heir of the High Warlock: Daughters of the Warlock, #4

By Maggie Shaw

As a witch with the most powerful genetics in the magical Universe, I have a choice. Do the Council's bidding…or risk their wrath.

I've had enough of hiding, of pretending I don't exist. I'm the daughter of a powerful Witch and the most well-known Warlock in the Magical realms, and its time everyone knew it. But I'm charged with treason against the High Warlock and if the Council win their case, I'm dead.

After a grueling trial with my Fae lover at my side, I win my case, and am given the power of the Heir to the Covens. But they want me to relinquish all control of my life, even the choice of my future husband. Which leaves me no choice but to fight my life, and a love I'd die for.

Scroll up and one click to start reading 'Heir of the Coven' today, and see why readers are drawn to this fast-paced romantic adventure

 

*** The Daughters of the Warlock series is now suitable for all readers, with closed door/fade to black love scenes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harley Romance Publishing
• Release date: Jun 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201405687

Book preview

Chapter 1

TO SAY I WAS NERVOUS about the up and coming trial, was the understatement of my life. My stomach constantly churned and the hairs on my neck stood on end, waiting for the axe to fall.

Currently, I sat at my bureau, brushing my long blond hair over and over again. It soothed me, as it normally did when my sister Bella used to do it after a particularly bitter fight with my mother.

My heart clenched. My mother was gone now. I never thought I would miss those fights, but I was wrong.

Good morning, Ava. Matlock, otherwise known as the High Warlock of the magical realms, also known as... my father, knocked on the door frame of my open door as he walked into my room.

Morning, I said, turning around to smile at him. I didn’t want him to see me nervous, so I hoped the smile wasn’t strained.

When the Council had agreed to give me a second chance at a trial to defend myself against the allegation of treason, they had demanded that I not leave the premises of the Council building my father resided in.

Father, with his magical powers, had built me a room adjacent to his offices within the Council building. It had a large bed, its own separate bathroom, a lounge area and a small desk.

It was a great set up, and if this was any other time in my life, I would have been ecstatic to be so close to my father, and to have him standing by me in this stressful time. I hadn’t known him growing up. My mother refused to tell us anything, and now I had a chance to learn more.

But it wasn’t a normal week, and today wasn’t a normal day, so enjoying the closeness to the father I’d never had, unfortunately had to wait.

What’s up? I asked with a forced relaxedness to my voice. I was pretty sure he’d come to get me for court. His dark hair was brushed to a bright shine and he wore his official cape and robes.

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

They called to say we need to be in the trial rooms by twelve, he said. He laced his fingers together and rested them in front of his body, obviously trying to show me how calm he was. But I could see him twiddling his thumbs.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, inhaling sharply as my stomach quivered. That was in fifteen minutes!

Had Matlock only just found out? Or had he waited until the last minute to tell me so that I wouldn’t get too nervous? I realized it didn’t matter.

The time had come, and he was supporting me in this massive step forward to becoming his heir. What else could I ask for?

I sighed, setting down my brush and taking a deep breath. All right. I think I’m ready.

I hadn’t exactly dressed for the occasion, wearing a comfy pair of jeans and a black top, but the last thing I wanted was to look intimidating. I didn’t need that added to my list of crimes. On the other hand, would I be attacked for being too informal? Would they automatically assume I wasn’t taking this as seriously as I should be?

I didn’t know.

I couldn’t let myself be bothered by it, though. I had to focus on what was important, and that was making sure I gave myself the best chance to win this fight against them. Letting frivolous possibilities cloud my judgment wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

I stood up and my father smiled at me, pride evident in his expression. I was only recently getting used to that look. It felt strange, as though I didn’t deserve it, especially not from him. From a man who didn’t even know me.

You’re so much like your mother, Ava, he said, and I realized from his gentle tone that it was meant as a compliment. So brave.

I shrugged, tension tugging at my upper back and shoulders. I never thought of my mother as brave.

She had hidden in her own private realm for over twenty years. Seemed kind of... weak to me. Scared.

I glanced over at the jewelry box where my locket lay buried for the moment. I’d taken to not wearing the necklace as often lately.

I didn’t really like my mother’s voice being in my head all the time. Especially when the only reason I was fighting for my life was because she’d chosen to break some pretty major rules when she’d had me. It hurt me because she didn’t seem to care about the consequences of her actions. She didn’t seem to care how it would be for us—her three daughters.

If I was being honest, the reason I was here, trying to have some kind of a relationship with my father was because she prevented me from having one with him in the first place. The day she passed away, I set out to change that, to figure out who I was.

And now I was here, on trial for being his daughter.

Matlock smiled again and this time there was brighter warmth in his face.

Well, she was fierce at school and up until she disappeared, he pointed out. No-one went up against her, not even me. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything, and I can only imagine that raising you... We didn’t mention my sisters in case there were people listening. Well, that would have taken an iron will.

I shrugged. I didn’t really want to talk about her again. That was all we seemed to do. Talk about how to unravel the mess my mother, Genevieve Melfi, had landed us all in. Quite frankly, I already knew about the mess and was more concerned about how we were going to get out of it.

I grabbed my mother’s journal from the table and slid it into my bag. My secret weapon. The book Bella had made sure I brought with me when I’d left our realm. I hadn’t known what it was when Bell had given it to me, but when I finally opened it up to read what was inside, I understood why my sister had insisted that I take it.

And, as usual with Bella, it was a stroke of genius. Definitely not my realm of expertise, but that was okay. We all had our specialties.

I hadn’t told my father, or Tavlor, what the book was, let alone what was written in it. Because the book Bella had given me, was mother’s journal. Amazingly Tavlor hadn’t asked, probably assuming I’d tell him if it was important.

In that assumption he and my father were wrong. This book was important to the case, very important. But only if the Council decided to change their tack and go after my father at my trial. If they chose to charge him with treason, when I proved they couldn’t go after me, well... I had something to fight back with, now.

I probably should have felt more guilty at keeping something like this from Tavlor and my father, but quite honestly, I didn’t. I would only use it if it was absolutely necessary. If it wasn’t, it wasn’t their place to know about the journal at all.

Until then, my mother’s innermost thoughts and secrets were staying under wraps. Especially as the later chapters of her journal also mentioned my sisters, and the Council could not find out about my sisters. If they were ready to go to war with me simply for being my father’s daughter, I could only imagine how they’d react when they discovered there were three of us. If I did use the diary to prove my father’s innocence in all this, I had to work out a way to only show the integral parts of the text without ruining the integrity or authenticity of the writing itself.

And I hadn’t yet figured out that part.

My father gestured to the door. Let’s go then. Tavlor will meet us there.

Oh, good. I wasn’t sure what role Tavlor was going to play today, but his presence was always bolstering for my mood. My heart fluttered just thinking about seeing my lover, and I cleared my throat to keep myself from allowing Tavlor to distract me.

I followed my father out the door and into his chambers, then through the many portals required to get to our destination. It was a long, intricate maze that he had designed to keep me protected. My feet ached from the walking, but I did appreciate what my father was trying to do.

I glanced at him, worry coursing through me. He’d offered to stand by me, fight with me so that I could remain with him, not only as his illegitimate daughter, but as his heir to the ‘throne’.

Not that I was sure I wanted the responsibility and power that came with his position, but the situation had got to the point where it was all or nothing, and nothing just wasn’t an option anymore.

But my biggest concern was that, in standing up for me and putting himself in the same boat as I was, he’d shown his cards. Made it clear to the Council where his allegiance lay.

In theory, that was fine. And I was proud that my father wanted me as his heir. Prouder than I could possibly say. It was more than I could have expected from someone who found out about me only a couple of months ago.

But what if he’d chosen the losing side?

If I sank, we both did, and I didn’t want him paying for my—and my mother’s—mistakes. Our choices.

Because, when it came down to it, revealing who I was to him had been my choice. I’d been tricked into showing how powerful I was to the Council, but I could have found another way into the Magic Realm, I was sure of it. I had spent a lot of time here, staring at these walls, going over those choices again and again, only to come up with the same conclusion: I could have figured out a different way.

And the guilt of those decisions—decisions I made when I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself—ate at me like a cancer.

We stepped through the final gateway, and I stopped dead. My stomach constricted painfully. We were inside the court room once again. The same one where they’d sentenced me to death without a thought, only a few weeks ago.

It was difficult for me to knowingly walk through a door that could lead to a horrible fate. Matlock seemed to notice I wasn’t matching his steps and stopped. He did not urge me forward, but gave me the space to wait, to take my time.

That simple gesture meant more to me than he probably realized.

I focused on the room, noting each element and the fact that this time, there was a difference. Slowly, I began to make my way in, with Matlock next to me, offering me his presence as a way to protect me. Had the Council really stuck to the agreement about giving me a fair trial? That would surprise me. They were known for their heartless and devious ways.

And yet, the pews of the court room were filled with people I could only describe as ‘normal’. Witches and warlocks I would have seen on the streets around the cafes. Not members of the Council, nor their families. Not that I could be one hundred percent sure of that... of course. The Council had vast amounts of power.

These people could be a ruse for all I knew.

And there was another issue too. Even if these ‘normal’ people decided I was innocent, I still wasn’t sure what sort of consensus we needed to win. Hell, I didn’t even know what winning actually meant.

The Council had said they would have the final vote no matter what, so did these normal people matter in the end? Did they make a difference?

Was it all or nothing? I hoped not.

Ava, Tavlor said as he stepped up beside me, not touching, but close enough that I could almost feel the heat of him.

God, I’d missed him.

I nearly closed my eyes and swallowed. I wanted him to wrap his big, bulky arms around me, to tuck my head under his chin and tell me everything was going to be all right. He always had a knack for making me feel safe when I was scared or unsure.

Truth be told, I was just glad he was here, that I got to see him in the first place. He’d been away in a Fae Realm, researching the laws and looking for things to help me with the trial. I wasn’t sure if he’d found anything, and this wasn’t the time to ask, unfortunately.

How are you feeling? he asked, his brow furrowed with worry. He kept his voice low to ensure no one could overhear our conversation. We got a couple of stares from some of the normal people. It reminded me that hybrids—a half-fae, half-warlock like Tavlor—weren’t welcome in most parts of society.

They could kindly fuck off, for all I cared.

I shrugged. As good as can be expected, I think. I lowered my voice, unable to stop myself from asking him. Have you heard anything new?

He stepped even closer and said, Not really. Though from what I can gather, they are running this as fairly as we’ve asked them to.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Really?

His lips thinned. "However, it is the Council."

I snorted. He didn’t finish the sentence, because some unknown part of Tavlor still couldn’t bring himself to openly go up against the people who had oppressed him for so long.

Tavlor had stood by while they’d tested me, accused me, attacked me, and then sentenced me. Yes... he had come through in the end with a rescue plan and was here now, but would he stand by as they put my head on the chopping block once again?

I wish I knew without a doubt he wouldn’t do that again, but I couldn’t be sure. Tavlor respected authority. It was the biggest issue we had in our relationship. I didn’t know if he would pick me at the end of it all.

I glanced toward my father, who, somehow, had become quite mute since we’d walked in the doors. He wasn’t looking like his normal self and he’d totally ignored Tavlor’s presence. Which was most unlike him.

Matlock, I called out, keeping my voice low. Are you okay?

The main doors swung open and three Councilors walked in. I didn’t recognize them by their faces, but I knew who they were from the way they held their heads, and the richness of their clothes.

Pompous assholes.

Ava Melfi. To the accused’s box, the main guy said, and I suddenly recognized him from the other day at my father’s office. He’d been one of the men to bring the official document by and picked up that Rasslor warlock who my father had knocked out with magic. He was a weasel, that one.

He pointed to a chair in the middle of the room.

I lifted my chin. Before I do, I’d like to know how this is going to work. Are there questions, a jury, a judge?

Because I had been sheltered my whole life, the only sense of trials I got was from Bella’s mystery books which took place in the Human Realm. Besides that, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

The man—I think his name was Thomas—turned red and I saw him fighting the need to yell at me, to demand I get in place.

But he calmed himself somehow. We have gathered thirty regular witches and warlocks to listen to the trial, and they will come together at the end to discuss their verdict.

I stared at him, surprised. And that’s it? They have final say?

I doubt that very much.

Thomas pursed his lips and his nostrils flared. "No. Their decision will be taken into account with our final decision."

I crossed my arms over my chest. That wasn’t the original agreement.

We hadn’t had a formal agreement in place on who got the final say, but I still expected some sense of fairness.

It’s the best you’re going to get, missy.

He nodded to where I was supposed to go.

I glanced around. Where was my father? He’d disappeared all of a sudden, when he’d just been right beside me. Had they taken him away when I hadn’t been looking? Had he willingly left?

Panic began to eat into my gut. And who is going to be on my side? Am I allowed counsel? Someone to represent me?

Thomas’ lips grimaced into a triumphant smile. Of course. Whom do you choose?

So, they had taken my father away so he couldn’t represent me? That would be right. Dirty sneaks didn’t know how to play fair.

I... I didn’t know. Why hadn’t I spoken to my father about this before now? Did witches have a version of a defense attorney? Would my father be willing to defend me, or was that some sort of conflict of interest? I wished I knew more about this so I could prepare. Right now, I felt like a sitting duck.

I’ll defend Ava. The call out was unexpected, but completely welcome.

We all turned toward Tavlor, who was standing straight and proud beside me.

Thomas’ eyebrows rose high on his forehead. But you can’t... you shouldn’t...

He didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence.

Tavlor, who’d obviously never stood up to a member of the Council before, smiled.

I can, and I will. He cleared his throat, his shoulders tense. Clearly, he didn’t like the attention. There’s nothing that says I can’t.

He turned to me, and love for this incredible man spilled over into every cell in my body.

Ava, please take a seat on the chair in the middle of the room, and I’ll be in the first row, ready to help, if you need me, he said in a low voice.

I nodded once, and went straight to my chair, in case they caught me grinning.

He was here to help me!

I sat in the chair designed to torture me and a sense of pure happiness washed over me.

Now, I had a chance.

Chapter 2

SHOWING ANY SIGN OF weakness to a bully is the worst thing to do.

So, I calmly sat down on the ‘accused’s chair’ and crossed my legs even though everything inside of me urged me to get up, to fight, to demand to be treated fairly.

I would get my chance, I assured myself. Tavlor was right here, helping me, when he didn’t have to. Everything would be okay. I took what I hoped was a calming breath. Then I looked up at Thomas and waited for the questions to begin.

I had to stay calm and rational. After all, if I stuck to the truth, they simply couldn’t find me guilty a second time. Their arguments didn’t make sense and I needed to trust that the normal people of this realm would see that. The Council was grasping at straws if they used all the same upside-down logic they had last time, logic that didn’t make sense except to power-hungry people who were all afraid of change. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. And yet they wanted to condemn me.

I was the child of an affair. I’d had nothing to do with it. But I was the proof. The victim. And blaming the victim in any situation is wrong... although humans seem to do it all the time.

Tavlor sat at the front of the pews of people, next to my father who had magically reappeared. He didn’t look impressed, his eyebrows lowered into a scowl, but he wasn’t acting or speaking in any way.

Had they put some sort of spell over him?