Silver Bone & Brimstone: Saga of the Warlocks

By Naomi Anne Little

Join Matilda Glen Dalough on her journey of discovery as she learns more about the powers she didn't think she had and the prophecy that could tear her world apart. The prophecy that includes a certain Dark Lord who has been obsessing over her forever. 

Will the Dark Lord be able to stab her in the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Naomi Anne Little
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9788794177054

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Copyright © 2024 Naomi Anne Little

All rights reserved. Printed in various countries depending on where it was purchased. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the cases of brief quotations on social media (you have the author’s express permission to use short quotes from this book on TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter), and said brief quotations in articles, reviews, podcasts, and interviews.

In other words, don’t be a dick and rip off my work. That would suck.

However much the author would like this book to be based on actual events, it most certainly isn’t based on actual events. The entirety of this book is indeed fiction based on the ideas found inside the author’s head. If you read anything that you think resembles real life, please get in contact with the author. She would very much like to visit the places and meet the people who you think this is based on. That would be the dream.

All that aside. This is a work of fiction. The usual stuff applies.

ISBN (Hardcover) 978-87-94177-04-7

ISBN (Paperback) 978-87-94177-03-0 Rectangle Rectangle

ISBN (Ebook) 978-87-94177-05-4

Publisher: Naomi Anne Little & Ride or Die Books

Author website: naomialittle.com

Cover Designer: Naomi Anne Little

Cover Illustrations: Naomi Anne Little

Cover Images Used: Paper texture image sources: Freepik.com & Canva.com

Book Formatting and Design: Naomi Anne Little

Editor: Naomi Anne Little

Trigger Warnings

Violence, death, self-harm (to access magic), death, fighting, torture, voluntary torture, battles, stalking, BDSM references, blood, tasting blood, knife play references, blood, war, battle scenes, sexual references, mild explicit scenes, and miscarriage.

Dedication

To all the girls who ever thought they weren’t enough. May you go with blood into the darkness of the night.



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Chapter 1

— There were no soldiers more renowned than the sisters Glendalough. —

Matilda let out a shriek as her eldest sister El came crashing down on her, knocking her head sideways and slamming it against the floor of the practice ground.

Matilda! We are Warlocks! We roar. We bellow. We do not scream like a child whose Mother won’t give them sweets from Norvoldt! El shouted at her, horror washing over her face. She hauled Matilda by the scruff of the neck back onto her feet.

It was one of the many lessons her sisters had taught her. Matilda had spent hours trying to perfect her Warlock roar, but they still came out as tiny screams not fit for the family she grew up in.

Little Wisp, what are we going to do with you? Matilda’s Mother, Tarka Glen, High Commander of the Warlock armies would say, making Matilda cringe internally

She could fight and swing a sword with the best of them, which was undisputed, and run faster than anyone in her family. But roaring, fighting, and killing, just was not Matilda’s thing. She had enough to deal with, what with all the dead souls in her belly vying for her attention.

It was only fitting when she ended up under Doc Parson’s tutelage to become a Warlock Investigator, a role usually kept for retired soldiers who had seen their fair share of battle. Breaking out of her reverie, Matilda surveyed the room she was in. A chill fall breeze swirled around her, not quite cold enough to freeze the blood in her bones. The dull light of Doc Parson’s Chancery helped to ease her into her tasks for the day. She was sitting in their Investigational Unit Command Center, as she liked to call it, where she worked together with Doc to solve crimes across the Kingdoms. Away from the battles, killing, dead souls, and blood baths.

Leafing through the latest missives Matilda asked Doc to open the window. Settling down at her desk she started sorting through the stacks of parchment they’d received, glaring occasionally at the fire. Even though she was Warlock-born, Matilda often found the heat required to quell a Warlock’s rage stifling.

We have a job for you, Matilda, said Doc Parson, shuffling across the room.

Cringing at the way Doc’s voice echoed throughout the cramped Chancery, Matilda set down the pile of missives in her hands. The Doc started thumbing through the books that were piled high on the tables placed around the ringed interior of the Chancery. Yearning for some cool air, Matilda surveyed the stone walls, lacking any kind of heat dispersion in a city that cried out for volcanic warmth. She felt stifled in the enclosed room. Turning her attention back to Doc, Matilda waited for her to brief her on their latest case.

As the serving Warlock Investigational Apprentice, together with Doc, they investigated all manner of crimes. From the Warlock’s treasured family heirlooms that went missing to a Fae-born child’s peculiar aptitude for disappearing. Small things, really. If the truth be told, Matilda was quite content under Doc Parson’s tutelage, away from the Warlock battles and the incessant need they had for violence and glory. Away from the blood and souls.

Thinking about it, time had seemed to slow down when she first started her apprenticeship with Doc four years before. Matilda would be the first one to admit that it took a while for her to get used to not being pummeled every day by fists that could crunch tree trunks or focus on all things war. But as the years rolled by, Matilda had fallen into a blissful state of investigating. Part of the agreement of her apprenticeship with Doc meant she still got pounded during her physical training sessions with her sisters.

She had four older sisters, and they rotated their training sessions with Matilda, depending on who was in the County at the time. Running the obstacle courses set out by her Mother every morning helped to keep her body conditioned. There were also the daily runs around the County boundary every afternoon with the Warlock Messenger Brigade, although she often left them in the dust.

The obstacle courses were not for the weak of heart. Abigail nearly died twice during the obstacle course runs. Both times, Matilda picked her up and carried her through. Their father even added some more treasures for them to collect and changed up the course to reflect their ever-developing abilities. Much to Bridgette’s horror. Bridgette hated running with a passion. Mia, on the other hand, was quietly excited about collecting more treasures. El said that the treasures were the only reason Mia deigned to run the obstacle courses. Bless her.

Coming from one of the most powerful Warlock families in the County, The Warlock’s traditional home, you can imagine what Matilda’s family thought about her intolerance for gore. At the same time, her sisters were relieved Matilda was out of harm's way studying with Doc. Being the youngest of five siblings, and the one without the stature of a battle-hardened Warlock did have its advantages. Historically speaking Warlocks were born fighting, straight out of the womb.

It’s no wonder her slight frame had them all concerned. Even if Matilda was over six feet tall, had massive feet and a toned physique, she was nothing compared to her sisters, who had muscles growing on their muscles. Mia could crack walnuts in the crook of her elbows, and they didn’t have any glass items in their family home because of the possibility of breakages. El, Matilda's oldest sister, trained her from birth to fight, strategize and lead. Not for a second did she doubt it was Matilda’s path in life. From Bridgette, she learned how to defend, although it was sacrilege in the Warlock community. They only attacked.

Matilda, you are not to tell a single soul about this, but I think defense is your best bet, Bridgette had said, after another grueling lesson with a battle axe, which ended with Matilda on the ground, praying for death.

Matilda didn’t feel she had the right girth for a Warlock or the muscle mass that had their arms looking like a bulging cacophony of overly large limbs. Sure, she had the height, the long legs, and the stamina to run all night, but wielding a battle axe and actually killing people with it made her want to throw up.

On the evenings when she wasn't training, her Mother would study her, sighing like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. It made Matilda push herself a little harder. Matilda’s sisters sitting at that same table would give her tips on how to smite their enemies, plunder the defeated, and throw magic all at the same time.

We’ll give you extra training, Matty. When I’m next back in town, I’ll take you to the smith. That should build up your arms. Said Mia, Matilda’s second eldest sister, patting her on the back before she hauled her bejeweled sword up over her shoulder. Mia’s muscles had rippled as she stalked out the door, her eyes hungry for battle.

When Doc Parsons had come to their door one Sunday morning, not long before the Summer War Games of the year 996, Matilda’s father had pursed his lips. Folding his arms behind his back. Eris Dalough, Matilda’s father, had beckoned for Doc to sit at their table. Matilda had sat with wide eyes staring at Doc, who was renowned for solving crimes, wondering why she was joining them at the table.

The Glendalough family, Matilda’s family, ran the Warlock armies. If Doc was visiting, it was probably because of a newfound crime.

A crime of passion?

A stolen Relic?

What else might it be that Warlock brutality couldn’t solve?

Stilling her excitement Matilda cast her eyes around their home. It was modest for Warlock standards. Stone walls lined the space where they ate on solid wooden tables. Deer skins lined the floors, leather boots dried near the roaring fireplace, and battle axes, swords, and a collection of knives lined the far wall.

Rising from the table, Matilda went to leave as she was late for her War tactics class, but her father beckoned for her to sit. It was altogether perplexing for Matilda, her father’s booming voice brooking no chance of an argument. He patted her on the shoulder, his eyes softening. If it had been one of her sisters, all-out War would have raged in the cozy space. Warlock tempers were volatile, and her sisters did not like being told what to do. For a Warlock, Matilda was quiet, and she cherished the moments alone with her father, as he was of a similar temperament. At least for a Warlock.

Clearing her voice, Doc Parson sat down at the table. Matilda raised her eyes, studying Doc’s attire. She wore finely tailored trousers that were made more for Sunday outings than war. The pockets concealed small knives, a mini brass telescope hung from her thick brown leather belt along with a tiny notebook, a couple of orbs, a leather water flask, and another smaller flask in the shape of a thin box hung beside it. Besides the small knives, Doc didn’t look like she could defend herself.

How odd, thought Matilda.

Sitting up a little straighter, Matilda’s weapon belt jingled. She’d heard Doc had a library that held more books than the Warlock Battle library, and they weren't all about war. It was where Matilda’s father had found the books on fairy tales that she loved so much. The books her Mother detested with a passion. Each night when Matilda was a small child, her father had read fairy tales to her, after her Mother had read The Twenty-Two Ways the Warlocks had Won The Battle for Contrition Against The Dark Fae two hundred years before. There was more blood and gore in those stories than a six-year-old needed to hear, but Warlocks were not named after peace.

Eris. Matilda. Doc Parsons said, splaying her hands on the table. I have a proposition for you both.

She was a retired Sergeant taken out of commission because of injuries sustained in battle, apparently. Hands covered in jagged scars picked up the mug filled with evanescent tea. Her bright eyes danced like that of a much younger woman. Eyes that were openly assessing Matilda as she sat at the table.

Go on, said Eris, waving his hand in front of him.

Scrunching up her face, Doc Parsons focused on Eris Dalough’s drawn face. Matilda's eyes flitted between Doc and her father, waiting with bated breath for a fight to start. The furniture in Matilda’s home was nailed to the floor for a reason. Abigail had once broken their kitchen window by hurling a chair through it in a fit of rage when she was told she couldn’t go to War with El. She had been twelve years old.

It has come to my attention that Matilda has a keen sense for investigation. She has scored at the top of her classes for Warcraft, War Strategy, Battle Planning, Weapons Knowledge, War History, War Language, War Commentary, and War Ballad writing. Doc Parson paused, looking down at the table.

Yet—her physical studies, War Fighting, Battle Swords, Battle Ax, Hand-to-hand combat, or any form of combat really, is somewhat lacking. Finished Doc, her eyes snapping to Matilda’s fathers, her body poised to strike. It was true, all of it. But Matilda was judged by the aptitude of her sisters, not the regular Warlock Curriculum for Physical Battles. Those were some tough standards to live up to. She was technically at the top of all her classes when not judged by her family's track record. But Matilda let that slide.

To Matilda’s utter astonishment, her father sighed at Doc’s words. Not a bellowing Warlock sigh, but a soft, tired sigh, like an old man might make when he’s taking his last breath. It was so far from the Warlock's usual demeanor, that Matilda’s hands stilled on the table. Holding her breath, her eyes darting between her father and Doc, she sat coiled, ready to jump out of the way if fighting erupted. Defense, Matty, as her older sister Bridgette, always used to say.

Patting her hand, Matilda’s father looked at her.

Matty, let’s hear what Doc has to say.

They had been discussing her future for many months and Matilda had her heart set on joining the Runners Regiment, because of her unnatural speed. Whenever Matilda had mentioned it though, every single one of her family members averted their eyes.

The Runner’s Regiment is the first line of defense, during battles, Wisp. Too much blood. Her father had grumbled under his breath at the time while stacking dishes away.

The Doc was offering an alternate solution. Matilda could apprentice with her and become a fully-fledged Warlock Investigator. She assured her there would still be fighting involved, but mostly they would research, study cases and of course, investigate crimes.

Will there be books? Matilda asked, licking her lips, which garnered a pained look from her father.

A hint of a smile chased across Doc’s face as she nodded, saying, And adventure.

Will I still get to train in Warfare with my sisters?Matilda asked.

It was important for Matilda to continue her physical lessons, because of her slim stature. If Mia, her second eldest sister picked a fight with her, she’d snap Matilda in two if she didn’t keep her body conditioned for combat.

Yes, young’n. And we’ll make sure you have extra lessons with those long pointy knives you seem to love so much. I’ll see to that personally. Plus, poison’s knowledge. She said, winking at Matilda.

Puffing up his chest, Matilda’s father proudly stated that she had come first in her poison’s class. It was one, two-hour class, where they had an exam at the end. Poisons were outlawed across the Kingdoms and Ring Lands that surrounded the Warlock Lands. It was taught purely for historical references.

And there’s the other minor issue of the, er, animals. Said Doc Parsons, avoiding Matilda’s gaze but looking pointedly at her father.

He pursed his lips and said, There’s no need to go into that now.

Shaking her head, Doc said, She needs to get a hold of it.

Eris knocked over the chair as he rose, his clenched fists banging on the table.

I’ll not have her put at risk. She’s been doing fine so far. They follow her around sometimes. Well, all the time, but she’s tamed them. Can you believe that? She’s tamed the dead souls.

Averting her eyes, Matilda’s body became rigid. Throughout her life, the dead had always followed her around. The souls begging her to consume them. Early on they would appear and she’d just stared at them unsure of what to do. But as she grew older, Matilda started eating them, just so they’d leave her in peace. The souls sighed in relief as they flew down her throat. Abigail had collected the body of the first soul Matilda ever ate, mumbling something about keeping it for later.

She gets it from you. You know this, yet you do nothing about it. Said Doc Parsons rising out of her chair.

Still your tongue lest others hear of this. I’ve told you before, she is fine. Shouted Eris Dalough, taking a step closer to Doc.

"If she has the hunger, woe betide anyone that is around when she is finally unleashed. You know he has it and what happened there!" Snarled Doc.

He is a little puppy, at least when it comes to our Wisp!

Are you forgetting what he did to the boy groundsman in Norvoldt when his power was unleashed?

Standing up in her chair, Matilda pushed her father back away from Doc.

It’s fine. I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I will go with Doc. She said.

Eris looked down at his youngest daughter, his eyes softening. Patting her on the head he said, Don’t you listen to them. You’re perfect just the way you are.

That was her father in a nutshell. He was always so kind. Doc Parsons gave Matilda a swift nod and went to leave.

I’ll add soul-catching as part of her education. She called out, glaring at Eris, who promptly took his teacup and threw it at Doc Parsons's head.

You’ll do nothing of the sort! He growled.

It is safe to say, the day Doc Parsons came to visit changed Matilda’s future trajectory. She started her studies with Doc Parson as her apprentice, after the Summer War Games in her eighteenth year. Her body had shivered at the thought of learning about soul-catching. Matilda preferred the term soul-eating, as that’s what it felt like. Her family never talked about it, and whenever someone mentioned that particular skill, Matilda’s parent’s eyes would land on her, worry coursing through their gazes.

Any other Warlock would’ve been appalled at the notion of becoming an Investigator. Not Matilda. It sounded like a match made in the heavens, for a Warlock that was considered less.

It meant she would still have to get through the Summer War Games, where all the Kingdoms amassed, and a couple from over it. The Warlock Games in the 996th year after the Warlock calendar, were being held in Bellum Ignis, the traditional home of the Warlocks. Most people just called it the County. Battles would be held in the thousand-year-old Colosseum which was kept in pristine condition. It was the Warlocks' proclivity to show off their battle skills being a people born of War, and that was most definitely reflected in the upkeep of the Colosseum.

The year of the Games before Matilda started her Apprenticeship, the Dark Fae were attending the Games. Whenever Matilda had asked about the Dark Fae, her Mother would go into a tirade, forbidding her to even mention them, lest they hear her and come looking for her. Matilda couldn’t make any sense of it. If she were to learn about all the Kingdoms, then surely she needed to learn about the Dark Fae as well?

And why in the Brimstone would they come looking for her? None of it made sense.

El had grabbed her one day when Matilda had asked about the Dark Fae and sat her down on the back steps. Smoking a tobacco roll, with some kind of botanical herb in it, El had given Matilda one of her prophetic looks. Curling her bare feet into the sand, El had passed Matilda her tobacco roll.

It’s because you’re their Queen, I reckon. You’ve always meant to be a Queen, Matty. The Seeress told me when I went to see her. You’re our Queen. Just think about it. You’re the one that always keeps a level head when we lose it. The strategies you come up with always work. Always. And you eat souls. Don’t you dare try to deny it. We’ve all seen the animals scampering after you. When you were little, you had a ghost tiger soul with a Warlock’s face following you around for days. It still appears sometimes, when you’re pissed at something.

Fumbling her hands together, Matilda had grumbled something about not wanting to be a Queen.

Matty, when the time comes, you must promise me you will not forget the world. Our world, no matter what horrible things that come. Vengeance is a hateful poison. You need to focus on the greater good of all.

Matilda didn’t know what to say to her, being all of ten years old. Their conversation had been cut short by Tarka Glen appearing in the doorway behind El.

Elisa Glendalough! How many times have I told you not to tell her about stories from the Seer? And what is that? Are you smoking Sage again?

Shaking her head, Matilda focused on the current situation. During the War Games, the County would be full of people from all over the Realm. There would be an expectation for Matilda to show her strength, as a daughter of the Warlock army Commander. But just like every other year, Matilda’s parents found some excuse to haul her down to the stables, where her job would be to guard the pack horses of the visiting Royals.

It’s an important job, Matty. You have an affinity for poisons. Her Mother would say.

Just don’t get too close to the dead. Her father would say, scratching the back of his neck.

In the past, during the War Games, there was always an accidental death. When you put thousands of different races together, and combined it with staged fighting, and Summer spirits, death was never far away.

Dead souls didn’t much like horses she’d found early on in life. When she’d mentioned it to her father, the stables became her go-to place during the Games. Unless the dead soul was that of a horse, then it was something else entirely. Once, a soldier from the Kingdom of Prosperity died while on an official visit. He took a dislike to someone in one of the bodegas making fun of his purple stockings, which were apparently all the rage in the Northern Kingdom at the time. When his soul smashed into Matilda, his ghost was that of a horse. It had taken her hours to recapture all the horses that had totally lost it in the stables, and her sisters had to rebuild all the stalls. They didn’t even blink an eyelid as they lumbered with slabs of timber.

Her father had walked in and inspected his daughter’s work, tapping on the beams, opening and closing the stall doors, and whistling at the gems Mia had nailed into the rafters.

Slight mishap. Not to worry, Wisp. There can’t be that many people with horse souls out there. The stables are the safest place for you.

Chapter 2

— To be a Thief was to know you could not be trusted. Not even a little bit. —

During the 996th Summer War Games Matilda missed all the battles, the feasting, and the dancing that normally occurred during the Games. Her sisters snuck down to the stables bringing her food, relaying all the mischief they were getting up to. Not to mention the talent that was parading around the County. Being an eighteen-year-old young woman, Matilda’s blood ran thick with all the scents wafting through the air.

In the Summer before Matilda joined Doc, it was a momentous occasion. The Kingdom of Pensal, the Kingdom of Roachford, the Kingdom of Prosperity, the Barren Lands, the Dark Fae, and the Thieves Corridor were taking part in the Games. The Thieves Corridor was called that for a reason. They stole anything that wasn’t nailed down. But they were a part of the tentative North Western Sea Kingdoms Alliance and it was better to invite them than face their wrath.

The Kingdoms to the East were most definitely not invited. They caused more trouble than they were worth and were constantly attacking the borders the Warlocks were protecting under the Accords. Barbarians, all of them!

Earlier on in the afternoon, on the second day of the 996th Summer Games, Bridgette had paid Matilda a visit in the stables.

Bridgette was bouncing on her heels, a dark green cloak hanging over her arm.

Matty! Quick put this on. Don’t ask questions. She whisper yelled at Matilda, excitement bubbling in her eyes.

But the stables! said Matilda, worried about shirking her duties and the consequences that might bring.

Forget about that! I’m taking you out into the melee. It’s not fair that they hide you away.

A giggle slipped past Matilda’s lips as Bridgette pulled the hood down over her face.

Keep it together, Wisp! Snarled Bridgette, trying to stop a smile from breaking through.

Squaring their shoulders in unison, they slipped through the streets of the County. Matilda’s eyes bulged at all the different people. Some were falling over drunk. Others were eating candied sweets, the toffee dripping down their chins.

On one corner there was a beggar, his long tawny hair clean for someone clothed in disheveled rags. When Matilda looked a little closer at him, she noticed even his clothes were clean. His eyes glittered as they looked at Bridgette. Matilda stumbled when her eyes met his.

The beggar's eyes slid to Matilda’s, finding them under her hood, stopping the world for a moment. Recognition seemed to burn in his eyes, but he twisted his eyes away from Matilda’s, focusing on Bridgette.

Taking a coin from her belt. A gold coin, no less, Bridgette let it fall into the beggar’s basket. Holding tightly onto Matilda’s hand. They stood in front of him, awkwardly.

Matilda took a step towards him, her fingers reaching out for him.

Ignoring Matilda, the beggar gave Bridgette a smile that could’ve floored the most stoic of Warlocks, making Matilda’s pulse speed up. Where they lived, smiles were in short supply.

Bridgette stiffened next to Matilda, her mouth falling open. She slapped Matilda’s hand away.

If you’re free this eve, perhaps we could take some warm Summer wine together. He drawled.

Bridgette looked a little flustered.

Their meeting with the beggar ended far sooner than Matilda wished when they heard their Mother bellowing, heading in their direction.

Cursing more than a lady should, making the beggar laugh, Bridgette dragged Matilda away down the street, pulling her past the many bodegas that had popped up for the Games. Turning her head back, Matilda’s eyes alighted on the beggars. He was staring after her with hooded eyes.

Weaving through the crowded streets, they hid behind one of the dressmaker’s boutiques. The shadows parted and between the gables, a hooded figure appeared. Bridgette placed her arm in front of Matilda protectively and snarled.

Throwing back his green hood, Matilda’s breath caught in her throat.

Hello, Matilda. He drawled, smiling at her.

Blinking at him, she pushed Bridgette’s arm away.

Tyv? Is that you? Breathed Matilda, taking a step towards him.

He shuddered and closed his eyes.

It’s you, isn’t it? She said, studying his face.

I’ve been trying to get to you, but your sisters are a might bit overprotective. Especially for someone whose power far surpasses their own. He said, tilting his head, his eyes roving over her face.

Rolling her eyes, Matilda pressed a gloved hand to his face.

I don’t have any power. Not like they do. Where have you been, Tyv? Said Matilda, her voice catching in her throat.

Looking for you. He said, his eyes calculating.

Bridgette pushed Tyv back away from her.

Listen here, don’t tell anyone you’ve seen us. I’m taking her out for a spell so she can enjoy the Games. Let her have this moment. Snarled Bridgette, dragging her away from Tyv.

I’ll see you again soon, Matilda. You have power, you just need to let it free. He called out after them.

Bridgette found the nearest bodega and shoved them through the doors.

He’s not on the list of suitors father drew up, Matty. Don’t even think about it. Nothing less than a Lord, Mother said, for you. She even mentioned some King in the far North. Said Bridgette in one of her softer tones.

But isn’t Tyv a Lord? Said Matilda.

A Lord of desolation, if the reports from the Thieves Corridor are anything to go by. Father would not allow you to be taken there willingly for an alliance. They use oil lamps and live in slums. Said Bridgette, eyeing the door.

She pushed Matilda into an alcove at the back of the room, peering around the room. Sighing rather loudly, Bridgette got the attention of the serving man, by bellowing at him. Matilda cringed under her hood. Slamming two rather large mugs of warm oxblood, with a dash of Summer spirit in them, down on the table the serving man gave Bridgette a wink. Popping some Norvoldt sweets on the table, his eyes slid under Matilda’s hood.

I’m surprised they let you out of the stables. He said.

Matilda let out a little shriek, her hand diving into the bowl of Norvoldt sweets. They were so very rare and Matilda relished the taste of one of her favorite things to consume.

Thank you. Said Matilda, her eyes lingering on the serving boy a little bit longer than they should.

Lifting her mug, Bridgette gave a hearty salute to the Queen and started drinking.

Now Wisp, you’re not to tell the others of our little adventure. I can borrow you for a max of two hours before she who belts hard will have my, and your hide. Drink up! She bellowed, smacking her lips together.

Sipping on her oxblood, Matilda felt the warmth flood through her veins. It made little sense to her to drink something so warm when the weather outside was so damn delightful, even if the cold still permeated through the cool Summer air.

Bridge, don’t you think the serving boy was cute? Said Matilda, trying to catch another glimpse of him.

Scoffing as she side-eyed her, Bridgette said, You should meet some of the War Fae! Now there’s some people who got the god's blessing with good looks, let me tell you!

A War Fae sitting at the table next to them, got up from his chair and sat down with Bridgette and Matilda.

My name is Alek. I’m the War Fae Lord’s Second in Command. He arched an eyebrow at them.

Matilda’s heart raced. His voice was deep and dreamy and if she said he wasn’t one of the finest men she’d ever seen, she’d be lying.

The bodega doors slammed open. A man walked through them, his eyes searching the room. Matilda almost fell out of her chair at the sight of him. Perhaps it was her raging teenage hormones, but there was no mistaking the electricity in the air when he entered the bodega. It could’ve also been the erratic pulses that were emanating from his hands, but Matilda was nothing if not poetic.

Fuck! Cursed Bridgette, sculling the rest of her warm oxblood and spirit fusion.

She ripped Matilda out of her chair and pushed her towards the kitchens.

Mother is going to kill me! She hissed, looking over her shoulder.

What? Leaving so soon? Called out Alek, his eyes sparkling.

Matilda tried to sneak another look at the man who had come through the doors, but Bridgette shoved her hard through the kitchen doors.

Don’t even, Wisp. She hissed at her.

Racing through the kitchens, they made a quick exit through the barn at the back of the bodega. Bridgette started running through the streets, her hand in Matilda’s.

Sorry, Wisp! I need to get you back to the stables. She said, regret shining in her eyes.

That beggar was pretty hot! Said Matilda, giving Bridgette a side-eye.

She scoffed at her and said, Can you imagine what Mother would say if I brought him home?

Snapping her eyes to Bridgette’s, Matilda said with a conviction that surprised even her, It doesn’t matter what Mother thinks! If you love someone, you love someone!

Bridgette’s face softened.

Oh, little Wisp, you read too many fairy tales. If only that were true. She said, a sadness echoing through her words.

I’m certain you have a mate out there, Bridge. We’ll find him and you will love him with all your heart. Said Matilda, holding her hand over her chest as she ran.

Bridgette scoffed at her, holding her side as she ran.

What the hell are you two doing? Bellowed El, blocking their path, her arms crossed against her chest.

Eyes full of mischief darted between Matilda and Bridgette, twinkling. El took a drag of her rolled tobacco that smelled suspiciously of Sage, then blew it out slowly.

Can’t talk El, we ran into you know who! I’ve gotta get Wisp back to the stables! Bellowed Bridgette as they sidestepped El.

El’s face fell. Looking wistfully at Matilda she called out, Maybe next year, you can enjoy the Games, Wisp!

When they reached the stables, Bridgette doubled over, holding her side.

I drank that oxblood too quickly. She bellowed.

Yeah, yeah. You could never keep up with me. Said Matilda, hiding a grin.

Watch it, Wisp. The next time we train, let’s see how fast you are. She replied, her eyes dancing as she cuffed Matilda up the side of the head.

Looking around the stable, her face softened.

Do your rounds of the stable, okay, Matty? El’s wards should keep you safe enough. She shouted.

Matilda swore Bridgette was the only one who trusted her to do anything by herself. The other members of their family would’ve inspected every nook and cranny of the stables before leaving Matilda alone in them.

Matilda nodded at her.

And what do you do if someone comes in that isn’t supposed to be in here? She said, her brow furrowing as they flitted around the stables.

I stab them with my knives. Said Matilda, making stabbing motions.

She patted her on the shoulder and winked at Matilda.

That’s right, Wisp. And then you run, okay? She said, concern creasing her face.

Nodding at her, Matilda shuffled her feet. Everyone was leaving her alone again.

I’ll come by tomorrow after I win the axe throwing. She bellowed over her shoulder.

Good luck! Matilda called after her, watching as Bridgette disappeared through the doors.

Chapter 3

— To be a Dark Lord there was to know only pain. —

Later that evening, Matilda was in the stables checking on all the pack horses, when a shadow fell across the walls. A faint scent of Winter embers followed it. Strange for a Summer night where even in the inhospitable Lands of the County, the sun burned their skin. It smelled familiar somehow.

Standing to her full height, Matilda threw one of her knives across the stables. It thumped into the upper wall, missing its target. Her knives never missed their targets.

She called out, If I catch you, I’ll rip your limbs from their sockets! Making retching motions with her hands. In reply, she received a quiet chuckle, but it quickly dissipated when the man from the bodega entered. He looked to be a couple of years older than Matilda. His black livery made her forget about the shadow. It was strange as there were no Kingdoms whose soldiers only wore a black uniform, that Matilda had ever seen.

Palming her knives, Matilda stalked behind the stalls, keeping one eye on him and one on the shadows. The immediate danger was in front of her though, sniffing the air. It was like he could see through Matilda when his eyes snapped to hers. Cold, blue eyes stared at her, his pale skin almost translucent in the pre-dawn light. He looked dangerous and there went her teenage hormones again, making her pulse speed up.

Was he a Thief?

She asked herself. He looked nothing like Tyv, who had sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and skin that was almost like an untanned piece of cowhide. While the man stalking toward her looked like darkness personified.

Nobody ever got to see the faces of the Thieves, and Matilda only had Tyv to go off. But one thing she knew, neither of them was getting their hands on anything under her guard. She’d secured all the tack and corralled the horses so they couldn’t escape. Every piece of tack, bridle, and horseshoe, and who they belonged to, she had accounted for in the ledger, and were stacked where Matilda could see them. One might say she was a little bored, in the stables all by herself.

Matilda’s blood rushed through her veins in excitement.

The shadows shifted to her right, and she threw another knife while the man in front of her took a step towards her. They circled each other. Dread should’ve filled her, but she found, as she circled the man, something else was bubbling up her throat. She was alone in the stables with an unknown assailant and he was not looking at the horses or tack. He was staring directly at her like he might devour her whole. The person in the shadows was forgotten as she stared at the man in front of her.

The young man from the bodega had his hands in his pockets and was staring at her, as they continued circling each other. Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to the side.

You are not what I was expecting. Why didn’t you reply to me? He said a little too loudly, making Matilda cringe at how loud he was speaking.

She was used to this.

Crouching down a little, Matilda said, Would you prefer it if I embedded one of my knives into your heart?

He snarled at her, his face morphing into something from the horror books her Mother used to read her before she went to sleep at night. Flashing canine teeth and sharp lines, anger far greater than Matilda thought should be awarded a simple Warlock guarding the stables greeted her words. She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. By the gods, they had tucked her away too long if she thought this growling man in front of her was attractive.

Tell me I’m not wrong about you, little wolf. He whispered, staring at her like she was a magical creature.

Sighing, Matilda put her knife away. Hoping neither of the people in her presence died and had a horse as their animal’s soul. There were way too many horses in the stables to have a breakout.

Listen, I don’t want to hurt anybody. My parents shoved me away here out of sight, like they always do during the Games. If there’s something you need from the stables, I’ll do my best to help you with it. I’m just a bit spooked because there’s a shadow flitting around in here. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t die.

The young man furrowed his brow. Lowering his tone, he took a step towards her.

You talk so quietly, for a Warlock.

Matilda sighed out in appreciation at his lowered tone.

It was then that she looked into his eyes. She should not have done that.

Her heart skipped a beat. His clear ice-blue eyes almost drowned her. She felt her breath hitching. His was doing the same. He took a step towards her, his fingers arching.

You don’t look like someone that would try to stab me in the heart.

His whispering voice curled around Matilda’s stomach, warming her cheeks.

Keeping her eyes on him for any sudden movements, Matilda tensed her arms ready to throw a knife.

Looks can be deceiving.

Licking his lips, he took another step towards her.

Is that blood on your lips?

Clearing her throat, Matilda threw her shoulders back.

We are both adults. If you have a mind to have a tumble in the hay, I wouldn’t say no. What’s your name?

He took a step towards her, his eyes darkening. Reaching out his hand he went to stroke her face.

How could I say no to that? My name is Nor. He growled, making her insides quicken.

The air grew electric in between them, holding a promise of divine lovemaking, even if it was in the stables during the Summer War Games. Hell, Matilda was already trying to get her cloak off. And the man had started pulling off his leather shirt.

Matilda losing her maidenhood to a random stranger in the stables was cut short, however.

What are you doing in here! Bellowed Abigail, making her cringe.

No points for timing, Abi! Said Matilda between clenched teeth.

What I do is of no concern to you! Nor shouted back at Abigail, snarling and baring his teeth. His leather shirt was halfway up his chest, showing Matilda a trailing vee that had her salivating. And were there scars on his belly?

Pushing Abigail back, Matilda said, Just give us ten minutes!

Arching an eyebrow, Nor looked Matilda up and down.

I’ll be needing more than ten minutes.

Matilda squeezed her thighs together, a wild need bubbling up in her chest, as she raked her eyes across where Nor’s trousers hung low on his hips.

The beggar came running into the stables, not long after Abigail. His eyes snapped up to the far wall that was cloaked in darkness.

Matilda felt a shadow pass around them, running a hand along her back. Nor shivered, whirling around.

Did you feel something touch you? He said in a quiet tone, looking towards her.

Blinking, Matilda nodded.

Pursing his lips, he shook his head as if to clear it.

Get the hell out of here, Thief! Abigail bellowed into the shadows, gripping her illuminated ropes in her hands.

Marcel clutched his heart and said, Nor, you’re sucking the air from the room.

Nor snapped his eyes to Marcel in confusion.

"You are