Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3: Robin of Larkspur Boxed Sets, #1

By Melinda Kucsera

When her daughter disappears without a trace, Robin embarks on a perilous quest to find her that tests her courage and determination in Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3. Join Robin on three thrilling adventures and risk it all to find her daughter.

 

In Hunter's Night, Robin treks through a treacherous winter wonderland filled with wolves, shapeshifters, and sentient trees to seek help from the Rangers of Mount Eredren. En route, she discovers a strange power that might help her if she could figure out how to keep it from imprisoning her.

 

In Rogue Night, Robin discovers the Rangers have a deadly secret they will kill to protect. Robin must face a powerful golem and win the help of the mage bound to it. But the new magic she found complicates things, and that help may cost more than she can pay.

 

In Rogue Ranger, Robin treks back into the enchanted forest with a powerful mage and his enigmatic companion as her guide and trackers. But one of her allies is not who they seem. Encounters with shapeshifters, fallen gods, overzealous guardians, and strange magic spells threaten to turn the trio against each other. Will their alliance last long enough for Robin to find her daughter?

 

Don't miss out on this must-read for fans of women-led epic fantasy and sword & sorcery stories. Get Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3 today and discover the true meaning of motherhood and heroism.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melinda Kucsera
• Release date: Oct 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223547167

Melinda Kucsera

I write fantasy and science fiction novels and short stories usually at sword point. Everyone should have such eager characters......Hello readers!Yes, this is a fictional character speaking to you. My fellow characters just locked our scribe (Melinda) in a tower. She needs to finish our latest adventure.Want to meet us? Hop on over to get our first adventure for FREE: http://www.mkucsera.com/enchantedWe’re eager to entertain you with our magical mayhem. So go download our book! We're waiting for you.

Book preview

Copyright

Hunter’s Night © 2019 Melinda Kucsera

Rogue Night © 2019 Melinda Kucsera

Rogue Ranger is © by Melinda Kucsera 2022

The cover is © by Melinda Kucsera 2022

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Robin of Larkspur Series

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Acknowledgments

About Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3

Author’s Note

HUNTER’S NIGHT

About Hunter’s Night

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

ROGUE NIGHT

About Rogue Night

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

ROGUE RANGER

About Rogue Ranger

Author’s note

Betrayed

Doubts Enter In

Shadows of the Past

Allies No More

An Uneasy Alliance

Claws Test Them

Shady Dealings

Friends By Starlight

The Great Escape

Mage Down

All Wrapped Up

Shades of Gray

Betrayed in the Dark

For My Angel

A Witch’s Word

Spying Times

Strings & Remnants of Things

Magical Gateways

Those Troublesome Threads

Arise, My Angel

An Unexpected Problem

Branching Out

Shades of Blame

Slide Away With Me

No Escape

Attack of the Strings

Not On My Watch

See How She Spins

What the Demon Wants

Taking Strings Literally

How Do We Help Her?

All Things Gray And Strange

The Blame Game

A Truce And A Journey

Mine, I Name You

Be My Hands

A Note About Shade

A Note About Curses

Why Did Rogue Ranger Take Three Years?

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Memoriam

About The Author

I’d Love To Hear From You!

Robin of Larkspur

The Curse Breaker Series

Curse Breaker Boxed Sets

His Angelic Keeper Series

Curse Breaker’s Companion

Divergent Heroes

Robin of Larkspur Series

A high-fantasy action/adventure series full of magic and mayhem, starring a single mother and her friends. Other books in the Robin of Larkspur Series:

(Suggested Reading Order)

HUNTER’S NIGHT

ROGUE NIGHT

ROGUE RANGER*

ROGUE RESCUE*

ROGUE GODS*

ROGUE GIFT*

*Forthcoming

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—The cast of the Curse Breaker Series

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As fictional characters, we appreciate the feedback we receive. Reviews also help readers choose our book. Since we exist only when someone’s reading our stories, reviews are very important to us. So, if you’re enjoying the magical mayhem in this book, please consider letting everyone know by leaving a review. And tell everyone you meet about us.

Thank you for reading Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to all our supporters on Patreon and Substack, especially:

Glenda Andre

Without your generous support, this book might not have happened. Thank you so much for being a part of this journey.

If you would like to support the characters who entertain you and get access to our books before anyone else, along with whatever else Ran dreams up, head over to Patreon or Substack to join us.

About Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3

When her daughter disappears without a trace, Robin embarks on a perilous quest to find her that tests her courage and determination in Robin of Larkspur Books 1-3. Join Robin on three thrilling adventures and risk it all to find her daughter.

In Hunter’s Night, Robin treks through a treacherous winter wonderland filled with wolves, shapeshifters, and sentient trees to seek help from the Rangers of Mount Eredren. En route, she discovers a strange power that might help her if she could figure out how to keep it from imprisoning her.

In Rogue Night, Robin discovers the Rangers have a deadly secret they will kill to protect. Robin must face a powerful golem and win the help of the mage bound to it. But the new magic she found complicates things, and that help may cost more than she can pay.

In Rogue Ranger, Robin treks back into the enchanted forest with a powerful mage and his enigmatic companion as her guide and trackers. But one of her allies is not who they seem. Encounters with shapeshifters, fallen gods, overzealous guardians, and strange magic spells threaten to turn the trio against each other. Will their alliance last long enough for Robin to find her daughter?

Don't miss out on this must-read for fans of women-led epic fantasy and sword & sorcery stories. Get Robin of Larkspur: Books 1-3 today and discover the true meaning of motherhood and heroism.

Author’s Note

I know it’s annoying for characters to remain nameless or not give their names, but the characters in this book live in an enchanted forest. So they’re well-versed in magic and the power of names. They won’t tell people their names unless they trust them. If you were in the enchanted forest and you encountered a stranger, would you give them your name?

I don’t think you would because you don’t know if the person has any magic, or if they’d use that knowledge against you. So there will be characters in this book that won’t tell anyone their names for that reason. I just wanted to add this note because this drives my editor crazy. But I can’t imagine anyone who grew up in an enchanted forest would ever give out their name when they met a total stranger.

I hope this helps. It’s annoying not knowing everyone’s names, but the characters in this book will just have to gain their trust to get their names. I hope you enjoy this story. It was an uphill battle from page one with Robin, and that’s why it took so long for this book to come out after her second one.

HUNTER’S NIGHT

By Melinda Kucsera

About Hunter’s Night

They took her daughter. Now she’s hunting them.

They kidnapped her baby and vanished without a trace. With no clues to follow and an injured companion to save, Robin must undertake a difficult journey to get help. But a wintry wonderland fraught with dangers lies between her and the one person who could find her daughter. Robin will do anything to save her baby, even become the one hunted in a deadly game.

Hunter’s Night is the first book in the epic fantasy adventure series, Robin of Larkspur, starring a woman warrior who could become the most skilled witch their world has ever known. But only if she survives run-ins with shapeshifters, pagan deities, demons, and other supernatural creatures who will try to stop her from fulfilling her destiny. Get Hunter's Night now!

Chapter 1

Warrior. Mother. She was both now, but could she continue to be? Robin pondered that as she ignored the snores of her tentmate. Outside, night fell, and snow too, but she was warm enough under three blankets.

Robin turned the broken arrow over and listened to the wind whistling through the nearby mountain pass as she ran her finger along the crack in the arrow's shaft. Three months ago, she’d given birth to the healthy baby girl asleep in the wicker bassinet to her left. But she still felt like this arrow—broken inside.

End over end, the arrow spun in her hands. Maybe ‘broken’ was the wrong word. ‘Changed’ might be more apt. Giving birth had changed her body, making it curvier and fuller in places than before. It had also forced her to face the grim reality of her future as a new mother with no prospects. Sure, Robin had a bow and could outshoot most Rangers, but that wouldn’t put a roof over her daughter’s head, not when a stupid law controlled the number of Rangers a settlement could hire.

The last rejection she’d received echoed in her mind as Robin twirled the arrow around her index finger. Sorry, lass, we’ve got no room for anyone else on the roster, the hatchet-faced lieutenant had told her four days ago.

But he’d let her pitch a tent outside the Ranger’s barracks while she’d tried to figure out where to go next. Can’t have a woman and her baby sleep on a bunk in a house full of men. No, sir, that just wouldn’t be seemly. So, Robin had lit out of that forgotten town the next morning without a thought for the weather.

She aimed for a spot well away from her baby and her still snoring tentmate and threw the broken arrow into the darkness. Strella was out cold from the grueling hike up the mountainside, which had become a desperate scramble over icy rocks as the storm raging outside had closed in on them. Robin was just as exhausted, but her mind refused to quiet down and let her sleep, so she stared into the darkness again consumed by worry.

Would Mount Eredren be any different? It was perhaps another two days’ hike depending on the conditions of the trail, and what mother nature had in store for her tomorrow. Mount Eredren was also the next closest settlement and far larger than the two she’d already tried.

Will they have a place for me, or will they be just as full-up as the last one? Robin asked aloud even though only her baby was listening. As she shifted on her pallet, that question hung there in the darkness, tormenting her.

Robin rubbed her aching breasts through her red leather brigandine. Though calling the uncomfortably cold thing she lay on a ‘pallet’ was a misnomer. Handfuls of pine needles and leaves on the frozen ground with a couple of blankets thrown over them hardly counted as a fit surface for sleeping. But it was the only accommodation available this deep in the hinterlands.

Rosalie whimpered in her sleep, reminding Robin she wasn’t alone in her discomfort.

I know, girl. This was a bad idea. I should have toughed it out until spring. Robin sighed and pushed away that regret. It couldn’t warm her or her baby.

Outside, the wind howled as it buffeted the tent again. The storm must be intensifying, but the tent’s construction was sound enough to withstand its onslaught. Thank all that was holy for that small mercy. In the silence between gusts, snow blanketed the precipice and covered the trail she’d hike tomorrow.

I really must start thinking instead of reacting. A little forethought could have landed us in a much better position. But her gut had told Robin to grab her daughter and go, and she hadn’t questioned it. Maybe she should have.

Rosalie grunted even though she was too young to understand. She was probably just responding to the tone of her voice. Robin wasn't sure she’d made the right decision.

At twenty, she was a single mother with no home, no job, and nothing to her name but the baby listening to her rant and the rucksack under her head. A tear squeezed out before she could stop it. She wanted to scream, but Rosalie beat her to it.

Robin snapped out of her funk into full-mother mode. She might have screwed up their lives for the time being, but she would be the best damned mother despite that.

Don’t cry, sweetheart, Mama’s here. I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. I promise. Robin swiped another tear from her eyes and levered herself up but stopped halfway when a cold, hard object touched her throat. What the—

A knife resolved out of the shadows and above it, two startlingly bright green eyes appeared. They seemed to float in the darkness above Robin. Watery light crept into the tent, revealing the rest of the intruder, and she was definitely not human.

Robin wanted to kick herself for not hearing the strange creature's approach. That’s what she got for letting her insecurities out to play when she should have been on guard. Damn it; she was the daughter of a Ranger. This bitch should not have gotten the drop on her or her tentmate, but she had, and Strella was still dead asleep. If Rosalie’s scream hadn’t even woken her, would Robin’s?

Probably not and the idea of screaming for help like she was some waif in need of a rescue galled Robin. Her pride wouldn’t allow it as she matched stares with the intruder, who was not as solidly built as she was. If she could just get her hands on a knife... Robin hid a smile as a plan formed.

Don’t move, The green-eyed creature said.

Who are you? Robin asked, risking a slice, but the knife didn’t bite into her exposed flesh. Did that mean this creature hadn’t come to kill her?

I said not to move.

The knife didn’t waver as it pressed into Robin’s neck and drew a bead of blood. Point taken. As Robin lay back against her makeshift pallet, she let her arm slide up until her hand touched the rolled-up tunics inside the rucksack she’d been using as a pillow. Robin had unbound her hair earlier, and it hung in a straight dark fall over her shoulder, covering her arm and the hand she shoved into those tunics seeking a weapon.

And I asked you a question. Who are you? While Robin waited for an answer, she grasped the bone handle of her knife but didn’t draw it out of the rolled-up tunics hiding it from view. Her captor hadn’t told her to be quiet, and anger was coiling in her gut like a serpent ready to strike. Robin managed to keep that anger out of her voice but not her eyes.

They blazed with righteous indignation and a promise of retribution, but the fierce look was lost on her captor because there was only a little light filtering into the tent through the unsecured flap. It was enough to backlight her captor but not Robin since that creature’s shadow fell across her.

The temperature dropped as the tent flap parted again, letting in a cold gust of wind and a triangle of pale moonlight. Said light glinted off the buckles holding her assailant’s outfit in place as the womanish creature chuckled. Metal discs connected by silver rings clothed the creature holding a knife to Robin’s throat—if you could call that ‘getup’ clothing.

The metallic ensemble ended at the creature’s midriff. A divided skirt picked up where that left off, but it petered out well before a pair of hooves, not feet. Well, wasn’t that interesting? Enough to finally clear out the last cobwebs from the restless night.

Silver hooves—the sight triggered a vague memory, but it fled when a pair of pale green eyes that glowed captured hers. The creature leaning over her grinned, showing off a set of perfect teeth. She was part deer and part human and just plain creepy.

What do you want?

Robin gripped the knife hidden inside the makeshift pillow under her head. She’d managed to work her whole hand under there without drawing her captor’s notice. Unsheathing it would be risky, but she felt better with a weapon in hand even if she couldn’t use it just yet. Years of training and ingrained muscle memory should help her land at least one solid blow even in this dim lighting. All she needed was an opening. Come on, bitch, give me one.

I think you know what I want. Her visitor traced the tip of her knife along Robin’s throat. I ride the longest night where no light but mine shines. Pay the toll or heads will roll.

The rhyme struck a chord in Robin’s memory. So did the silver horns curving up from either side of her attacker’s heart-shaped face. This thing was part of the Wild Hunt. Oh crap.

Robin stared at her long-necked captor who bore more than a passing resemblance to a deer except hinds didn't usually have horns just stags did. Brown fur so fine it blended to look like human skin kept her exposed bits warm, and there was a generous portion of her curves so exposed to the elements. A riot of brown curls tumbled down the Huntress’ back, and a leather band kept those locks out of her eerie eyes. They were pale green mirrors reflecting Robin’s growing horror.

The Wild Hunt, oh, God, anything but those monsters. Robin looked away, disconcerted by the promise of pain in those eyes. Her nightmare was just beginning. Before it ended, whose lives would it claim? Not my baby, please Mother of God, protect her.

Rosalie wasn’t crying anymore, and the silence inside the tent was becoming as oppressive as the shifting shadows sliding over the Huntress’ sleek fur. A tear slid down Robin’s cheek at the thought of her sweet daughter lying in the bassinet beside her pallet, and the Huntress grinned. Outside, the wind howled and pummeled the tent with invisible fists as it gusted past again. By some miracle, the tent stayed up despite the onslaught.

What do you want? Robin asked again because she needed an answer.

Your life, your death, either will suffice. The Huntress shrugged as if she had no preference, nor any skin in this game.

Nearby, metal clanged, and a woman grunted. That must be Cat. Or had some unlucky band of adventurers lucked on to their camp? Rescue might be only seconds away.

It was possible. This trail had looked well-traveled before a storm had dropped a foot of snow on it. Robin had seen enough evidence to corroborate that assumption, or she wouldn’t have made camp here, and they were heading for one of the most trafficked waterways in the country, the River Nirthal.

Some of her hopes must have written themselves on her face because the Huntress threw back her head and laughed again. The bitch thinks she has me cowed. Not likely, since her father was a Ranger. He’d be scandalized to see his daughter so easily taken.

Robin took advantage of that momentary inattention to swing her knife up and out of hiding. It slammed into the Huntress’ blade, shoving it aside then Robin was rolling aside to avoid that next blow and move the fight away from the bassinet and her too-quiet daughter. She’d have to check on Rosalie after the fight. She couldn't risk doing so now.

The Huntress scowled as she danced aside to avoid the kick Robin had aimed at her. She must drive that creature away from her daughter. Robin frowned when her booted foot didn’t connect with its intended target. Damn, she had so looked forward to sinking her cleated sole into that creature’s face. Well, at least she’d put some space between them.

But Robin was still on the ground, which was a bad place to be a moment later when the enraged Huntress stomped down with her cloven hooves. Robin threw her knife, missed the skinny deer-woman—damn that canny bitch—and had to roll quickly out of the way of another silver hoof aimed at her abdomen.

Robin slammed into another body. Thankfully, this one was supine and much taller than she was. Oh, thank God, Fate, whoever was listening—an ally at last!

Robin shook that blanket-wrapped bundle for all she was worth, hoping her fellow traveler was still alive and armed. The two warrior women sharing her campsite were a lucky find. Fortunately, they’d decided to team up with Robin for a while. What luck that was. Three women traveling together made a less enticing target, especially when they were all armed. Wake up! We’re under attack.

Strella groaned and rolled onto her side, batting Robin’s hands away. How could anyone sleep through this? Strella must really be exhausted. Then let Cat deal with it. It's her watch. Mine just ended, Strella mumbled into her arm.

Get up before you wake up as a shade in the Gray Between Life and Death.

But Strella just snored. Damn her. All that hiking must have caught up with her.

Robin ducked, and a knife just missed her head. She grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a rucksack—and thrust it in front of her like a shield. Why had she sacrificed her knife earlier? Robin could just imagine the lecture her father would have given her if he’d been there. Stupid, stupid, she was better than this.

The Huntress slit the bag open, spilling woolen socks onto the canvas floor, but it stopped her next jab before that wicked blade could do more than graze Robin's red leather brigandine. Robin grabbed a relieved breath when the Huntress frowned.

Having some trouble? Robin asked when the Huntress couldn’t jiggle her blade free. Now, that was more like it. Robin smiled. The Huntress’ knife was caught on something inside the rucksack, so Robin shoved the sack at the Huntress’ face, and the back of the creature’s hand thwacked her pert little nose.

You bitch, seethed the now bleeding Huntress.

Yeah, yeah, cry me a river. It’s just a little nosebleed. And maybe a broken nose too, but Robin wasn’t sure about that since her opponent wasn't completely human.

Robin chucked another bag at the Huntress to keep her off balance. The bassinet was nowhere in sight, but Rosalie was here somewhere. She must be. The tent wasn’t that large. So why hadn’t she made so much as a peep since the fight had begun?

Rosalie? Panic bloomed in her chest, as Robin shoved another bag into the path of the lunging Huntress. It was half the size of a person and just as wide.

When the Huntress dodged it, her hooves caught on a tangle of wet clothes Strella must have stripped off after her watch, and that deer-woman went down. Good, maybe she'd stay tangled up for a little while.

Robin nudged her traveling companion again in passing. Get up! Death's here for a dance, so let's give her one.

But Strella didn’t rise from her blankets at that stirring speech, nor did the large lump under the blanket budge when Robin shoved her a third time. Where was Cat? Was she still fighting out there? How many more of these creeps were there?

In answer, the wind screamed through the mountain pass and pummeled the tent again, ripping one of the tent poles out of the ground. Robin wrestled with yards of unruly canvas as the tent suddenly embraced her. The Huntress crouched, making a smaller target for the wind-whipped canvas to strike until the wind calmed. When it did, the tent listed to one side. One more blow would knock it down then Rosalie would be unprotected from the elements.

The Huntress remained hunched and partially hidden by the sagging canvas. She withdrew a second knife from her sheath. Where was the first one?

Nice knife. I'll take it from your cold dead fingers. Robin shoved loose canvas out of her sightline.

I’d love to see you try. The Huntress extended a forked black tongue and licked her blade. The bloody thing had canine teeth running along its edge, and it looked as hungry for her blood as its wielder. Oh goody, not only would she die, but she might end up on the menu tonight.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now? Robin wondered aloud. She thought she’d left all her troubles behind when she’d lit out on the trail seeking a new life. Apparently not.

Cold seeped through Robin’s clothes as she fumbled through her gear for a weapon or something to throw. Anything would do. Her bow case would be great right now. It was wooden and as long as a quarterstaff. Where was it? Her numb fingers turned up baby paraphernalia but no bassinet, baby or bow case. Damn it. Where were they?

Where’s my baby? The question hung between them while Robin’s thoughts spun in a tight, terrified circle. She shut down that line of thought before panic turned her into a gibbering wreck and tossed three dirty diapers and a rattle in quick succession.

The Huntress dodged the cloth poo-bombs but caught the rattle and did a suggestive hip wiggle before pocketing it. She smirked at Robin, and her eyes glinted in the half-dark.

Robin swallowed, and fear burned all the way down to the worried fist clenched in her belly. Where’s my daughter?

A heavyweight slammed into Robin, knocking her down onto her belly as a new combatant barreled into the tent, collapsing it. A second and a third creature followed him, and several hooves stepped on her back before Robin could roll out of the way. Only the tough leather of her brigandine kept those hooves from biting into her flesh.

Pain lit Robin up, but it was a dull roar compared to the fear for her daughter squeezing her chest. Please don’t trample her. She’s just a baby. Robin tried to throw her arms over her head to shield it, but she was all tangled up in the tent canvas. Something hard collided with her head, and the world winnowed away as an ululating war cry rang out.

Strella? Did you finally get up? Robin tried to ask, but everything faded to black before she could get the words out. Forget me. Save my baby. Robin sent that wordless plea into the darkness to anyone who was listening. Then, she finally passed out.

Chapter 2

Hyntra struggled to escape the canvas imprisoning her. How dare this man-made thing get in her way? She was the Huntress. All things bowed to her or died by her hand. Anger sharpened her claws to fine points, and she slashed them through the collapsed tent, ripping five long, satisfying gashes in it then five more crossways, creating a hole.

Now, that was better. Hyntra crawled through that ragged hole into the moonlight, sparkling on the falling snow. Snowflakes caught on her lashes and melted on her face as Hyntra stood and gave her sleek mane a toss.

As she stood there victorious in the snow, she rested her hands on her hips and retracted her claws. They sank back into the leathery pads of her fingers with a soft click and a deliciously cold tickle. Oh, it was good to be the Huntress, especially in winter when she had the run of the forest and no enchanted trees to interfere with her desires. They all hibernated in the so-called ‘winter sleep’ like every other green thing until spring, and their vaunted ‘three rules’ fell by the wayside because they slept too deeply to enforce them.

Well, she wasn’t hibernating. Far from it. Hyntra chuckled. She just couldn’t help it. Life was so good and about to get even better. She laid a hand on the folded square of cloth in her skirt pocket. Power pulsed in the words an ancient hand had inked on that scrap of cloth, and she tingled all over with anticipation every time she touched it.

But Hyntra wouldn’t be starting any fires or cutting down any trees just to be on the safe side. She didn’t want to wake the forest prematurely. Spring would do that soon enough. But she might harm someone under its boughs if someone came after her, and she hoped someone did. Then she’d have a reason to break one of the enchanted forest’s three rules.

Hyntra skimmed a hand down her rock-hard abs and the short hairs covering those taut muscles then shook herself out of her reverie. She waved the creature stalking toward her to hurry up. She didn’t have all night.

He was a faun and as such, part goat where she was part deer, not gazelle. She was not and had never been related to a cow. The faun, Heshen by name, had good, strong legs and fine-looking hooves perfect for scrambling over uneven ground. His white fur blended perfectly into the snowy night. Only his luminescent green eyes stood out, but all the members of the Wild Hunt had them.

Did you get it? Hyntra asked because this wasn’t their usual hunt. No, they preferred the kind of prey that could run away, fight back, or at the very least enjoy being seduced, like young, strapping boys, and lithe girls, aged fifteen to thirty. They’d hunt them again soon and replenish their ranks, but for now, Hyntra had to deal with this baby business and the complex spell that required them because the outcome far outweighed her distaste for this kind of hunt. It would be over soon, anyway, so she could deal with it in the meantime.

Heshen grasped the staff sticking out of the snowbank and pulled. It held aloft a lumir crystal in a silver cage that glowed a soft green. Its light glinted off the rings of Hyntra’s creative attempt at chainmail, not that she needed the added protection since her hide was tough to pierce.

Snow crunched to her left as another member of the Wild Hunt, this one sporting a full rack of antlers, removed another staff topped by that same luminous crystal. It glowed the same pale green as the others.

Well? Did we get it or not? Hyntra made a give me gesture.

You’ll have to be the judge of that. Heshen shrugged. All human kids look the same to me.

Hyntra glared at him until he glanced away. She should redecorate this clearing with his guts for his impertinence, but a better idea occurred to her, and a wicked smile curved her lips. Then you should bag the next one since you’re so good at telling babies apart.

Realizing his error, Heshen froze. Objections formed in his green eyes, but they never made it to his lips. He pointed at something behind her.

Hyntra felt it too then, a powerful presence, and turned to regard the enchanted forest in the valley below. A shiver raced up her spine, but there was no sign of Her, the Queen of All Trees, just her power probing the night. That giant, ambulatory tree sought something or someone this night. It had better not be the person she intended to hunt next.

Huntress? Heshen finally said.

I know. I felt it too. The Witch Tree's out and about tonight.

Does she know?

That was a good question. Hyntra did something she didn't normally do. She took a moment to consider what she knew of the so-called Queen of All Trees. Could that giant tree know what she planned to do this night? The Queen of All Trees was far cannier than her army of enchanted mega-foliage but…

Hyntra bladed her hand and slashed it through the air to end the discussion and all further speculation. She didn’t have enough facts to rule one way or the other, so she went with her gut. No, she doesn't know, and she won't find out until the deed is done. We’ll move fast on the next one and be on our way before she could possibly figure it out.

There was no way the Queen could know what was inscribed on the cloth in her pocket. Hyntra was strangely certain of that. Besides, the well-preserved fabric had been scribbled on an animal’s hide, not on any member of the Queen of All Trees’ forest. There was just no way that tree could know what it said.

Satisfied by that explanation, Hyntra gave her pocket, and the cloth inside it, an affectionate pat. It would help her put one over on the Queen of All Trees. That bitch would never get the upper hand ever again, and that thought returned the smile to her face.

Are you sure? Heshen glanced about as he asked that, infuriating Hyntra.

She was the de facto leader of the Wild Hunt, and her word was law. He needed a lesson about that after he completed his assigned task. Yes, Hyntra said through clenched teeth. Now get on your way. You have a child to take, and she had business to take care of.

Hyntra waved the two slender creatures that were waiting a discreet distance away to approach her. They were armed like the rest of the Wild Hunt and leading a string of moose. Both had backward curving horns like goats on either side of their too-symmetrical faces. A third one followed them carrying a bassinet.

Yes, bring the child to me. Hyntra extended her hands to receive it. Heshen had not moved though. She glared at him, and he held out his hands in entreaty.

How do I find the brat we seek?

Hyntra rolled her eyes heavenward. Must I do everything?

It was a rhetorical question, so Heshen wisely kept silent. He dropped his gaze to the snow under her silver hooves as if that sign of deference could mollify her or make up for his ineptitude.

Huntress, one of the female fauns said with proper deference as she extended a large basket to her. Inside it, a swaddled infant stopped moving the instant her dark eyes fastened on Hyntra, and that broke the tension.

Huntress? How do I— Heshen asked again when she cut him off.

With this. Hyntra thrust her hand into her pocket and withdrew a white stone.

That rock was one of the rarer types of lumir crystals nowadays but not so in ages past when low-level mages made a living by enchanting stones. Too bad those days were long gone. What she wouldn’t give for a sack of bespelled crystals and a mage to make more. Maybe she’d pick one up tonight.

In addition to its silver glow, the stone functioned like a compass for wishes. Hyntra held the wish stone out and focused all her will on what she needed for the spell to work, the son of a mage. Anyone would do. She just needed the nearest mage-gifted child under the age of two. It didn’t matter if his father was super powerful or just a one-trick wonder. All that mattered was this child had the capacity to one day work magic.

Show me the way, wish-finder, she intoned. Hyntra pictured a blanket-swaddled, pale wriggling little thing with bright green eyes and drool rolling down his dimpled cheek and hoped that would be enough. She’d never had any contact with young kids. But that's what the spell called for, so she sent that wish into the stone.

At first, nothing happened. The crystal lay cool against her palm looking enough like a milky quartz crystal to make her wonder if she’d grabbed the wrong stone. Regular lumir crystals also came in white and gave off that same silver light, but that was all they did. Maybe she did pick up the wrong stone. Wish-finders were a special kind of white lumir crystal and nearly identical to their less gifted brethren.

Just as Hyntra fumed at her carelessness, the rock warmed. Thank Fate. She had grabbed the right one after all. The wish stone oscillated against her palm, and its glow intensified until it was too bright even for her to look upon. Hyntra covered her eyes with her free hand moments before everything whited out. Somewhere on the other side of that light was the child she’d just wished for.

Heshen, go into the light. It’ll take you to the child we seek. Or close enough that he could find that brat on his own, but Hyntra didn't bother to tell him that. Go now. We’ll meet you at the haven. You know where that is, right?

Of course, I've passed it many times. Do you really think it'll let us in? Heshen asked.

Was he stalling? Why didn’t he just walk into that light so it could stop blinding everyone? Hyntra shifted her hand a fraction of an inch then raised it again to shield her eyes as white rays of light stabbed them. That light must be blinding him too. Why didn’t he just go? Just fetch that child. Leave the rest to me.

But what if it won’t let us pass?

Ugh, more stalling. What was next? Excuses? No way. He had his orders. The haven won't have a choice. You’ll see. It'll have to let us in for the good of the children. Hyntra glanced at baby number one but couldn’t see her with all that light shining in her face. She just needed three more kids, then she could begin the ritual.

With her tearing eyes squeezed shut against the light, Hyntra couldn’t tell if Heshen had followed her order. Nor did she hear his hooves crunching on the snow. Why did no one listen to her?

She had a frigging list of things she needed to acquire and a dwindling timetable to keep. After all, their former leader couldn’t resurrect himself. Nope, that was the job of the spell in her pocket, and it required a very specific baby—the son of a mage, which the wish finder had just located.

Hyntra caught someone male by the lapels of his leather vest and shoved him into the light. Hopefully, she’d sent Heshen. In case he needed help, she shoved the next body her hands encountered into the light before it winked out.

The wish stone dropped into the snow and glowed softly, even though its power was spent for the time being. Hyntra rubbed her eyes to clear them of the black afterimages and their purple halos. She bent and scooped up the wish stone. She might need it again later to fetch the last child on her list. That should give it some time to recharge. Would it be enough?

Hyntra nibbled on her lip as she considered that. She had one other bespelled stone, but it wasn’t as powerful as a wish stone nor as versatile. Well, she might have to use it to get to her next destination. It would take longer than if she could just use the wish stone, but that couldn’t be helped. The babies the spell called for had to be collected before anyone realized what was going on, so her people could get in and out with the babies without delay.

If only this spell had come into her hands a few days or even a week earlier. Hyntra shoved her hand into her pocket and squeezed it. What fun she could have had with the parents, but alas, that was not to be. Hyntra shrugged off that flash of disappointment. There’d be other fights and other fools to play with.

Huntress? a female faun cleared her throat. The faun was a little on the gangly side, and she had a death-grip on a basket. Something inside that basket mewled. Oh right, the baby they’d just procured.

Let me see her. Hyntra held out her arms to collect the bassinet and inspect its unhappy occupant, but the faun held tightly to it. Her eyes were hard and dark and gave away nothing.

Fine, be that way if you must. Hyntra shook her head.

Without their proper leader, the Wild Hunt was fragmenting into splinter groups along species lines, and she wasn't helping that by sending all the fauns on the dangerous missions instead of her own kind. But Hyntra sloughed off that concern. Soon, she’d be free of all those petty jealousies to do as she wished. In three days’ time, they’d be someone else’s problem, and the thought made her smile as she reached into the bassinet and lifted the baby out.

Be careful. You must support her head and neck like this. The faun shifted Hyntra’s grip, so the baby's head and neck rested on her arm.

Thank you, Hyntra scowled as she tried to recall this particular faun’s name. Nothing came to mind. Oh well. She turned her attention back to the baby she’d gone to so much trouble to take and wasn’t impressed by it. So, you’re the witch’s daughter?

The baby blinked stupidly at her, but she was only a few months old. Maybe that was normal?

She isn't speaking yet? Hyntra didn't even try to hide her disappointment.

Human children were so weak and needy. She’d thought the gifted ones would come into the world better equipped to handle its manifold dangers, of which she was one, but that wasn't the case with this child unless she’d made a mistake. Hyntra juggled the kid until she had a hand free, but the wish-finder stayed dark. Damn, she’d have to verify this child’s identity another way.

Here, hold this. Hyntra handed the baby back to the faun.

Into the basket, the fussing child went. The wind died as the faun covered the child from head to toe with a blanket. Only her wind-burned face was visible.

She’ll freeze if you unwrap her, the faun said.

True, but I need to know if she’s the one.

And if she is? The chill would be too much for her. Don’t risk it. Wait until we’re somewhere warm to check. The faun girl lowered her eyes to soften her demand, but that was unnecessary since she had a point.

You’re right. If this is the right baby, why chance it? We have barely enough time as it is to get everything in place, Hyntra conceded.

A pair of sleepy brown eyes blinked at Hyntra. The poor babe probably couldn’t decide what to make of her. Aww, the little thing must not have ever seen such a perfect blend of human and deer, Hyntra said to the faun, who just nodded as was proper. And you know what, Witchling? I’m that unique. That’s right, Little One. Gaze in awe at perfection because you’ll only see it again if you’re very lucky.

Hyntra struck an imperious pose just for the fun of it, and the baby’s eyes widened as the little drooling thing took in her awesomeness. Perhaps the infant was impressed, after all, smart baby. But was she the one the spell required?

Hyntra relaxed her stance as she studied what she could see of the baby. Her mum had bundled the kid up too well and in too many layers to see much other than her round little face. But the baby’s eyes bothered Hyntra. Only the non-magical had dull brown eyes. If this child was the daughter of an earth witch, her eyes should be some shade of green.

What is it, Huntress? What do you sense? asked the faun whose name she still didn't know.

Hmm? Oh, I don’t like that I can’t feel the gift in her. That usually means it’s absent. I don’t want to haul a mundane child along or have to care for it.

But it’s only for a few days. The faun shifted the bassinet as she scanned the trampled snow and the downed tent for more reasons to take the baby along. The basket must be growing heavy in her grip. That baby wasn't light. Her mother comes from a long line of witches, right?

If we followed the right girl, yes. But Hyntra had doubts about that. She stalked back over to the jumble of canvas that had been a tent until she’d dropped in for a visit.

The baby’s eyes followed her, and Hyntra bet the child stared at the lump that was her unconscious mother—a girl of about twenty who answered to the name, Robin. At first, Hyntra sensed nothing except the girl—for that’s what she was despite her tough persona—a lost little girl who was in way over her head.

Do you sense it? the faun asked. As she approached, the baby fussed and cried for her mother.

What’s your name?

She-Anne, Huntress. The faun crossed her goat legs and bowed deeply while somehow managing to keep the basket and its occupant steady.

Hush you, I’m not going to hurt your mama. She can’t chase me if she’s dead, and I want her to chase me. I live for the chase. Kills are so much more satisfying when you have to work for them, and this was too easy. Hyntra sighed then stepped away. It was time to go. She’d spent too long here already. Let that be a lesson for you, girl, Hyntra said to the unconscious Robin.

The baby just stared at her like she was mad. Hyntra smiled and waved She-Anne to follow her.

Did you find what you needed? She-Anne asked.

Maybe. These two are a puzzle I can solve later. Hyntra gestured to the baby and her mother who lay somewhere under the canvas of the collapsed tent.

But there had been something in the woman called Robin. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, that twit hadn’t called upon it. Perhaps that girl didn’t know she had a little something extra in her blood. Hopefully, Robin would figure it out because that would make the chase so much more fun. Once Hyntra caught her, maybe she wouldn’t kill the girl outright.

It might be fun to unlock a witch’s power. Hyntra filed that away for later after she’d completed the rite and reunited the Wild Hunt with its proper leader. Then she’d have plenty of time to play with the girl who should be a witch. Didn't that just send a thrill through her?

She didn’t use any magic on you? Dressen’s mouth dropped open in shock as she passed him.

Hyntra couldn’t resist running a finger along one of his branched antlers to distract him, and he shivered with pleasure while she shook her head and pouted. Nope, and she was a piss-poor fighter to boot. What a disappointing errand all around. Our little spat was pathetic at best. Hyntra touched her nose, but it had healed already, leaving no trace of any wound behind. That was one of the many benefits of riding with the Wild Hunt.

Heh, you should have taken on their swordswoman. Dressen gestured to a deep cut along his furry flank with pride.

She was that good, eh? Envy jabbed hot pokers into Hyntra’s eyes. She’d picked the wrong woman to tangle with and had missed out on quite a fight it seemed. Robin owed her for that too.

Dressen nodded. Better than good. She struck like lightning. It was a true pleasure cutting her down.

Tell me you left enough of her for a rematch. She sounds like someone I’d like to tangle with.

Swords weren’t Hyntra’s weapon of choice, but in a pinch, she could wield one with some skill. After all, swords were just long knives, but she preferred the close-in work of a good knife or better yet, her claws.

Of course, I did. How can I fight her again if she’s dead? Dressen cocked a bushy brow in mock-inquiry. His big hands rested on his sword belt as he proudly displayed his massive chest. Cuts marred the short golden fur that hugged his muscles, and she almost ran a hand down it just to feel the fur slide under her fingers. But Hyntra checked that motion when She-Anne gave the baby a pointed look.

Right, fully human kids were fragile, and the air was cold enough to freeze water. She had a mission to accomplish, and a kidnapped kid to take somewhere warm to wait for the ritual to commence.

Everyone, mount up. Hyntra waved to get She-Anne’s attention. The faun girl had just reached her mount. Keep that baby safe until I need her.

She-Anne nodded and swaddled the baby in a furry blanket before returning her to the basket and buckled it into a specially designed carrier attached to her saddle. Once She-Anne was satisfied with the set-up, she swung up behind the basket, and Hyntra signaled them to set off into the night.

A dozen creatures who were half-human and half either goat or deer rode behind her in a single column, and what a sight that was. With their white fur cloaks draped over their mounts’ white backs, they looked like walking snow drifts.

Every fourth rider held a lumir crystal-topped staff to light their way as they rode away from the precipice toward the covered trail snaking up to the mountain pass. Behind them, nothing stirred in the ravaged camp except the canvas that had once topped a tent. The wind toyed with its edges as it blew snow over their tracks to conceal them.

Come for me, girl. Show me your power. You owe me a proper fight, Hyntra said into the wind as she pulled another lumir crystal from her pocket.

This one was a luminous green because it was filled to the brim with earth magic, which allowed it to do so much more than glow. The finder stone vibrated in her hand, as she thought of the mage boy, who’d slipped through her grasp three years ago. He would be about seventeen now and ripe for the picking.

Find the boy called Sarn. She pictured his innocent face and his green, green eyes. They’d glowed as bright as the crystal in her hands then. Now, they must be even brighter and his power even greater. The finder stone spun on her palm until it pointed south. A pale green beam shot out of the crystal, pointing the way. Hyntra smiled as her mount trotted after it without her prodding.

What about the babe? She-Anne asked, spoiling the moment.

Hyntra sighed. There was always a hitch in her plans. Take the kid to the haven. Dressen?

Yes, Huntress? There was a smile in his voice.

Take a few of your warriors and escort She-Anne to the haven. See if you can convince its guardian to let her and the baby enter, so they can warm up.

What about you?

I have an errand to run.

Yes, Huntress, Dressen laid his hand over his heart and bowed in his saddle without grimacing at the pain that move must have caused.

See you there. Hyntra gestured for him and She-Anne to split off from the pack as they rode through the blowing snow. It was time to collect that wayward mage boy. Hyntra smiled thrilled at the very thought of a chase because there would be one. Sarn would run. He was built for it, and she would catch him.

Chapter 3

Rosalie, Robin said as she awoke to a pounding headache and a cold numbness creeping core-ward from her tingling extremities. Her daughter’s name beat in her brain as she struggled to move. She had to get up and get warm before she froze to death. But first, she had to find her baby. Rosalie? Robin pushed her daughter’s name past her dry, cracked lips again and expected a reply until reality bitch-slapped her.

Rosalie was too young yet to speak. But her brain was so scrambled, she imagined her daughter calling out for her as she crawled around in the dark under the canvas that had been a tent before it had pancaked. She pawed over every shadowy bump just in case, sending a jolt of pain through her head and her back, but none of those lumps were Rosalie or the bassinet her baby had been lying in.

Where are you, Rosalie? Robin searched until the bitter cold forced her to stop and admit the unthinkable. Rosalie was gone. Her daughter’s absence punched a hole through her heart, and she couldn’t breathe. Panic squeezed her chest as a scream tore out of her. Robin punched the tent floor.

The increased blood flow eased some of the ache in her head but not her heart. That pain only grew every moment she couldn’t find her daughter until she screamed all her frustration and fear into the wind, wailing against the canvas covering her. At least it couldn’t steal her body heat, covered as she was, but that was cold comfort.

When she had no more breath left to scream, Robin lay still. Her head pounded with a bad headache and waves of pain rippled across her back when she moved. Despite that, she was still whole and relatively undamaged. No bones were broken. She was just bruised and so damned cold; she shivered until her survival instinct kicked in and forced her to move.

Why am I still alive? Robin felt along her chest, but her leather brigandine was still intact. There were no punctures nor any scratches she could feel. The Wild Hunt didn’t leave survivors. Why had they spared her? Didn’t they know she’d follow them to the ends of the earth to get her daughter back?

Maybe that’s what the Huntress had wanted. The idea seemed insane, but so was the situation, and that was the only explanation that made any sense at all. If the Huntress had wanted her to follow, that meant there was a trail to follow.

Hope flared up, white-hot in her chest, and Robin struggled with the heavy canvas of the collapsed tent. God only knew how much snow had piled on top of it while she was raving like a loon. All she needed was her go bag and her bow case, and she could be on their trail right this minute.

Rosalie, Robin said on a sob then covered her mouth to stuff that grief back inside her. Rosalie might be a pawn in a larger game. That thought stopped Robin cold and raised the one question that had never had a satisfactory answer—why? Why her daughter? Why take her tonight?

Think, girl, what do they really want? Robin asked aloud, just to hear another voice besides the one gibbering inside her head.

But she couldn’t think of what that game could be. She was nobody special. Why me? Every thought circled back to her daughter. Rosalie was gone. Robin had to get her back.

Plan in place, even if it was a tad insane, Robin pushed herself up to a sitting position. Tears spilled down her cheeks from the pain radiating out of the bruise between her shoulders, but it couldn’t stop her. Nothing could, not now when she finally had a plan.

Robin? a new voice shocked her out of her inconsolable grief. It was familiar, but it took far longer than it should have to place that woman’s voice.

Robin had forgotten about her fellow travelers and tentmates, but  she wasn’t alone out here. Relief spread through her like a flagon of hot tea, warming her all the way to her extremities, as the dark lump to her immediate right shifted. Maybe she’d have help to find her daughter after all.

Strella? Robin turned her head, and her heart swelled with gratitude for the God that had put the two warrior women in her path. She hastily brushed away tears of joy. Are you still among the living? Robin felt strangely giddy with hope. The cold night slapped her in the face, and the wind pelted her with ice crystals when it whipped past, but she ignored them.

Present and accounted for. A cough followed that. If you’re finished having a tantrum, I could use a little help. Our guests left me a bit tied up.

The dark blob moved as Strella spoke. Robin squinted until she could make out the ropes. Standing up would put more of her than she wanted into the wind’s path. It tore past Robin, blowing snow into her eyes, as she crawled to Strella’s side, and she had to pause until her sight cleared.

You weren’t kidding. Robin sat beside the warrior woman and picked at the knots securing Strella’s thick wrists.

In her place, I would have tied me up too. I could have broken that sylph in half, and I would have if her friends hadn’t shown up. Strella glared at Robin. You didn’t say we were surrounded.

I couldn’t count our assailants. There was a tent in the way, remember?

Excuses, excuses. Strella drummed her fingers on Robin's thigh to get the blood flowing again while Robin worked on those snow-caked knots. But a wet rope was harder to untie than a dry one.

It’s the truth. Robin was so glad to hear that warrior woman’s voice, she kept up the banter just to keep the conversation going. All the while, she scanned the ground for tracks.

The wind whipped past again, scouring the ground. Robin squeezed her eyes closed and braced herself against its onslaught. When it died down again, her heart sank at the pristine blanket of white surrounding her. There wasn’t a single track in sight.

No, Robin whispered in horror. How could she track them if there were no tracks to follow? Her mind spun in a tight, horrified circle while her numb fingers picked at the remaining knots.

You need a knife to cut them, Strella commented as she eyed her bonds critically. Those are good knots.

What did you say? Robin couldn’t stop staring at the snow around them. It was a blank canvas. That’s what her future had become, an open-ended question.

You need to cut me free, Strella said patiently as if she were speaking to a child or a grief-addled adult.

Why? Robin asked. She was only half-paying attention to what she was doing. A cold despair had gripped her. How could she find her daughter if there were no tracks? Her mind kept circling around that problem but found no answer.

Are you even paying attention? Just get a knife. I’ll cut myself free.

Why? My mother was a weaver. These knots are nothing compared to what she could do when the mood struck her. Just give me a moment. Now that Robin was paying attention to the knot, it fell apart in her hands. There, you’re free.

Not that it mattered. Nothing did. The hole in Robin’s heart wouldn’t heal until she held Rosalie again.

I never should have left, Robin muttered, speaking more to herself than Strella. Her voice was thick with bitterness and regret. If only she’d stayed put.

That’s a moot point now, so let’s leave the regrets for later when we’re somewhere warm, okay? Strella massaged her wrists and watched Robin out of the corner of her eye.

All right. Robin scooted down to work on the ropes around Strella’s ankles. It was something to do, and her fingers knew which loops to pull.

Nice. You’ll have to show me that trick. Hey, where’s Cat? Have you seen her? Strella searched her face. Has something happened? You don’t look so good.

Robin started at the question and retracted her fingers from the knot. She’d forgotten about the other swordswoman. How many members of the Wild Hunt had Cat held off? For how long?

Robin shook her head and looked away. Guilt stabbed her. Her daughter wasn’t the only victim here. Shame made her face flame. I don’t know. Nor