The Problem with Promises (45 page)

To find myself dropping into the air, not a chilly pool. Into the arms of a strong wind, not infinity. We were carried, blown like the leaf I’d always thought I was, by a breeze so powerful that my clothing flapped about me. My stomach roiled. I got impressions of others—hands pressed against the wall, mouths opened in cries—images set into undulating walls. A blur of faces too white, anguish too real.

Light ahead.

Blue, blue, blue.

The opening came up on me faster than I wanted it to—and for once, time did not slow down. We were sent—Merry bleating orange pulses—spewing into the void.

Goddess, take my soul.

A sense of falling. My mouth opened for another long shriek.

And then, with a thud that stole my breath, we landed. Hard, because one way or the other, all my landings are hard. No spongy moss beneath me this time. The ground smelled of earth and something else … sweet as my mum’s breath. I lay where I was, facedown in very ordinary dirt, for far longer than I should have, temporarily robbed of courage. Merenwyn’s earth tasted very much like ours.

Merry’s ivy twined tight around my cold fingers. Gave them a reassuring and painful squeeze.

I rolled to a sitting position.

I’d landed on a small promontory approximately six feet in width. Wincing at the flaring hip pain, I turned and looked behind me. A solid wall of rock, and above that, a small cave. It would be difficult to spot unless you knew it was there. The entrance was shadowed. And the set of stairs carved into the cliff face had been sized to fit a very small foot.

Get up.

Nothing had broken, though my knee felt hot and I knew it would swell soon. I crab-shuffled to the edge. Below me was Merenwyn. Acres of untouched forest. Stretching out to the horizon, rolling with the swell of the land.

The Raha’ells waited there. And perhaps over there, down by that ribbon of a river, I’d find a royal guard or two. Or three.

Look at those trees.
As massive as the ones in Threall.

How to leave this place? My gaze followed the line of the notched stairs and noted a trail, no wider than a couple of feet. It led down the mountain, and then disappeared into the dark woods. So … courage. It can begin with a simple action. One step that takes you to a place you’d never thought you’d go. But heroes? They’re people who choose to keep moving forward. Even if they’re frightened. They move toward a goal. They soldier on toward their destiny.

I will close the gate behind me. I will find shelter. I will meet Lexi and kill the Black Mage. I will see the Book of Spells destroyed.

From the tunnel came a faint strand of sound. The shiver of metal fencing, hollow and distant.

I stared at the vista, verdant and far-reaching.

Count to twenty-five then do it. Get up. Take the next step.

Suddenly, a gust of wind howled through the gash in the rock face. My hair lifted and whipped around my face.

My hand tightened on the knife hilt.

The noise grew terrible. The rattle of metal, the shriek of steel striking stone.

One final cataclysmic whoosh of sound and wolf-scented air.

Then a thud, coupled by the chatter of chain link.

And a curse, exquisitely mortal.

I closed my eyes briefly. Feet and fencing had landed in Merenwyn.

His scent reached for me first. Alpha and man, woods and salt, sex and that indefinable element that was sung to the wolf inside me. It wrapped around me and said, “This be my mate.”

A thoughtful pause.

Down in the valley, the tops of the trees swayed.

“You always going to leave when I ask you to stay?” he asked.

I smiled through the tears. “What took you so long?”

Acknowledgments

My first round of thanks goes to those who volunteer to slog their way through the first draft read: Julie Butcher, Kerry Schafer, Rebecca Melson, and Victoria Koski. I’m endlessly grateful for both your comments and pat-pats.

My second round of applause is directed to those who help polish and present that draft: my editor, Holly Ingraham; my hidden resource, Mickie; and all those at St. Martin’s Press whose work touches mine. Hugs to you all.

My final round goes to the readers. Though I write the books, my readers make the series. Thank you for hanging with me for the entire ride!

A
LSO BY
L
EIGH
E
VANS

The Trouble with Fate

The Thing About Weres

Praise for Leigh Evans and

THE TROUBLE WITH FATE

“[A] brilliant debut … has a likeable, light-fingered heroine with smarts, a tough sexy hero with troubles, and a glimpse into a fascinating Fae world that will have you howling for the next book. I loved it!”

—Suzanne McLeod, author of
The Shifting Price of Prey

“What a delicious read! Chock-full of fun twists and sexy diversions, one of them named Robson. Leigh Evans is definitely one to watch. Get this book! You will not be disappointed!”

—Darynda Jones,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Charley Davidson series

“It’s rare to find a debut novel with a well-crafted world, a great story, and dynamic characters, but this book has them all. I was grabbed early and hooked to the very end. I eagerly await the sequel!”

—Karen Chance,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Cassandra Palmer and Dorina Basarab series

“Her first time at bat, Leigh Evans has hit one out of the park.
The Trouble with Fate
is the perfect mix of romance and action, with characters you can’t help but root for and a twist that had me squealing with surprise. Evans offers a brilliant new take on fairies, werewolves, and magic—and this book is urban fantasy and paranormal romance at its best. I am officially addicted.”

—Chloe Neill,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Chicagoland Vampires and Dark Elite series

“A true storyteller with a tough heroine and an original and engrossing tale. Reader, beware, if you pick up a Leigh Evans book, you won’t put it down until the last page.”

—Patricia Briggs,
New York Times
bestselling author

About the Author

Leigh Evans lives in Southern Ontario with her husband and a short, fat, black dog. She’s raised two kids, mothered three dogs, and herded a few cats. Other than that, her life has been fairly boring. You can visit her online at
www.leighevans.com
.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE PROBLEM WITH PROMISES

Copyright © 2014 by Leigh Evans.

All rights reserved.

For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

www.stmartins.com

eISBN: 9781250032461

St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / March 2014

St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.