Swept Away

By Clair Gardenwell

Rora Nepas has a dream, to leave the lonely piece of storm battered seashore that she has called home for too many years. Letting the legacy of being a thief's daughter fade into the dust of her slowly crumbling cottage, if only she could control the impulse to steal everything that glitters. 

Cyraes is the mysterious eight legged merman who washes ashore, dripping blue blood from a serious injury and bound in seaweed. Bringing with him the ultimate temptation, a beautiful jeweled hairpin that tempts Rora's will. For so long, she had dreamed of nothing but the stars guiding her on a journey all her own. Now she has a new friendship built on lies, but as the threat of the blistering storms battering the coast grows ever stronger. It will only be a matter of time before walls fall down and a choice will be made.

Will she choose her collection of precious treasures and lies? Or will she choose a new life exploring the world under the sea?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clair Gardenwell
• Release date: May 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201374778

Clair Gardenwell

Hi! I'm Clair and thanks for reading my work! I'm a total book nerd and awkward introvert. My favorite things are fairy tales, suspenseful fantasy, steamy slow burn romances, and fluffy dogs and cats. If you would like to keep up to date on all my newest works, please don't hesitate to sign up for the email newsletter. I hope to see you again soon! 

Book preview

Prologue

The Birth Of A Storm

LIGHTING FLASHED QUICK and sharp through the sky, creating patterns of jagged white fangs against a blanket of the deepest gray. It flooded the land in light, the jutting black cliffs looming as far as the eye could see, and the restless beast of the sea surging beneath its touch. A small village laid securely tucked into the curved arm of the cliffs, like a buried treasure known only to a few and standing sturdy through the night.

A storm, only one of many that had plagued the coastline within the last month, roared with unbridled ferocity. The entrance to the monsoon season had arrived in all its glory. The thunder’s force shook the windows in their casings, the torrential rain battered any exposed surface into submission. A few boats bobbed like corks, straining the ropes that kept them tied to the village dock. No fool dared to sail in this type of weather, or even walk along the mud swamped paths save for one. 

A slender figure leaped from roof to roof, each step sure and secure despite the slickness of the slate tiles. A dark cloak flapped in the breeze, creating dark wings born of nothing but illusion and fabric. Wild red curls flared free of the fabric confining them, framing a round face speckled with tiny freckles. A woman, her arms pumping at her sides, leaped across another gap and slithering down a staircase with an innate skill. 

A woman called Rora Nepas, the thief born of thieves.

With the skill born of someone long used to the darkness, she flitted between rows of buildings like the breeze. Returning to the rooftops to bound from gable to gable, each movement was smooth, her precision sharp, and she never missed her goal with each silent step forward. She couldn’t, as to fall was death, and to be discovered was a life in prison. Underneath the length of her coat, a small pouch hung on her left hip, brimming full of new treasures lifted with nimble fingers, and jingled faintly with each step. This was only one of many sounds that reached her keen ears, matching the thunder rolling through the skies above and the breath rasping in her lungs. 

A sudden gust of wind pushed against her body, forming an invisible wall that slowed her steps to a mere crawl. Shifting one hand over her eyes, she darted into the shadowed protection of an alley, wild gray eyes searching the softly lit windows for signs of life, but found none returning her gaze.  

I should have just waited till another night. Stupid storm, some of my new collections will be turned green from all this water. She snarled softly to herself, ripping off the dark hood that bound her wild red curls off her shoulders, and wrung out the excess water. It flowed over the bumps and curves of her bare knuckles, pooling in the small slashes of scars left behind in the grooves of her fingers, and raced to join the pool that was quickly growing around her feet.

Letting out a long sigh, she let her eyes wander far out beyond the cage of buildings down to the distant shore. The waves continued their relentless pounding against the docks, the jutting edges of the wharves shivering in sync with the tide as it pulled back, leaving a dark stretch of sand exposed for a heartbeat before it surged forward to reclaim lost ground. Another bloody storm, that the frail tiles in her roof would probably be leaking, but there would also be lots of debris washed up on the shores tomorrow. Including oysters, one of her favorite items, and quite possibly a few things to help lash her roof together once again. Seaweed was useful for more than just cluttering up the beach after it washed ashore, you know. 

Giving the fabric another few wrings for good measure, she folded it around her face once again, taking care to make sure that it was pulled forward over her forehead and nose before letting her hands drift down to her waist. Attached by a length of rope to a thick leather belt around her hips, the small canvas pouch was roughly the size of her closed fist. Just small enough to be concealed easily under her clothes, but not too small so that it could hold several treasures. The tiny seams were stretched so taut that the outline of the coins inside were easily seen, along with the imprint of a bejeweled bracelet making a long rectangular impression against her fingertips. A second imprint made itself known to her touch, shaped like a crawling beetle, the broach had been an unexpected surprise. Snatched from a cloak left outside in the shade of a door while the owner lingered inside, but a pleasant one at that. A wry smile crossed her lips, sending a spark of excitement firing through her veins. Another beautiful treasure to add to her collection. 

"A thief is always careful to never take more than their target, Rora. Because if you are not quick, then you will die." Her father’s subtle warning flashed to the front of her mind, spoken even while he stole a necklace from a sleeping child, briefly halted her steps as another quickly replaced it. 

You hoard too much, Rora. Like a raven who ultimately destroys its nest, your treasures will kill you one day. Her mother’s words, sharp and brutal, matched the skill that she lifted countless purses with. A clean swipe and the damage was done, the remains falling apart into her waiting hands. The wry smile inched higher, her hand drifting once again to her waist and the pouch of treasures waiting there. Surprise! It was the two of them who were captured in chains and tried as thieves. Locked away in some distant prison to never be heard from again even after their death. All their legacy had left behind was a ramshackle cottage three miles down the shore, and a thief's legacy to her name. 

Maybe you’re right, my treasures will kill me one day. But I won’t be here when it does. She vowed, tipping her head low against a blistering gust of wind, and plunged back into the heart of the storm. Running as fast her legs could carry her, the slick muddy path beneath her feet wound around and down, letting her exit the village towards the docks, and shifted into wet rock and damp sand. The squishy material sucked at each step, clumps of sand sinking between the soles of her boots and curling around her toes. The weight tried to slow her down, make her wait, but to stop was to be caught and to be caught was to die. After all, she still had to face these people in the morning light, and she needed to keep herself as innocent as possible to avoid suspicion. No matter how many knew of her family’s legacy, she couldn’t let herself appear as a thief but as the woman with the cool smile and the dull eyes. Too worn out from living on the storm battered coast to even think about stealing. 

The village behind her blurred, its outline swallowed by the might of the storm, and she slipped into the shadow of a large cliff to take a moment’s breath. The rough edge of the wet rock dug into her back like propping fingers, and her body trembled with the strain of racing so hard against the wind. Even the thunder roaring above couldn’t drown out the pounding of her heart, the constant whooshing giving a curious upbeat tempo. Her brows dipped into a frown, placing one hand against her chest as her breath quickly hissed between her lips. A strong vibration rolled through her feet, both from the thunder and from the tempo that was gradually growing stronger.

That was odd, normally the storms weren’t so musically inclined, but this one was. Letting her gaze follow the strengthening notes, she squinted far out towards the charcoal horizon, the rain creating a curtain that disguised all but the faint oblong shape of something bobbing on the waves. The crashing foamy gray tides tossed the shape back and forth like a child’s toy, and the wind swirled over the water, bringing the thumping tempo right to her ears. That’s odd, She murmured to herself. No sane person would be sailing in this weather.

A spark of interest fizzled in her mind, and her left hand reached around to the back of her belt to find a small rounded item, and slipped it from its strap. Cool metal settled into her hand, creating a small chill that pushed even more cold into her already soaked skin, but vanished as it started to heat up from her touch. A flick of her fingers had it extended out to full length, rising from a small coin sized shape on one end to a wider opening on the other. The spyglass was cradled carefully in her hands as she raised it to her right eye, having to take a