Page 1 of Power of Five
Prologue
River
“No,”River told the magic pulsing through the wet earth beneath his palm. Not that the magic much cared for River’s opinion. “Bloody no. That cannot be our fifth.”
Stepping up beside him, River’s quint brothers, Tye, Coal, and Shade—the latter in his wolf form—stared down from Mystwood’s overlook to watch a mortal girl of about twenty push a wheelbarrow toward a compost pile. Her lush hair was a fiery brown hue that toyed with the sun’s rays as the girl went about her work, dumping off her load of manure and pushing the wheelbarrow back toward the stable.
The estate on which the girl labored sprawled daringly close to the border to Mystwood, the dense forest separating the mortal lands from the fae’s Lunos territory. Unsurprisingly, minus a handful of inns and taverns catering to the more curious mortals—or lost ones—the closest village lay a full day’s ride away. No one wished to live closer to Mystwood than they had to—no one, it seemed, except the estate’s master.
The girl stopped and brought her hands up to her face, breathing on her fingers. Dressed in too-short pants, oversized boots that stayed up only thanks to old gray stockings, and a threadbare cream tunic that tried and failed to conceal her curves, she had to be freezing in the cool wind. It made River simultaneously want to envelop the girl in his arms and disembowel her overseer. Neither of which would be happening.
“That is female,” Tye said after a moment.
“That is mortal,” Coal added.
“That is a mistake,” River declared with a finality he did not feel. If the girl was a mistake, his entire being wanted to be beside her anyway. His bones tingled with the pull of it even as he straightened to his full height, his voice a mix of command and dismissive closure. “One we must correct as expeditiously as possible.”
“I don’t think you fully appreciate how females work,” said Tye dryly. From the Blaze Court, the southern most of the three fae kingdoms, Tye had thick red hair, a fire-magic affinity, and a propensity for finding a brothel anywhere, anytime—even if one hadn’t existed there before Tye’s arrival. He shifted his shoulders, his eyes locked on the girl. “They don’t morph into males—let alonefaemales—just because you order them to.”
“You appreciate how femalesworkenough for the rest of us put together, Tye.” Coal crossed his arms, a stray lock of hair that had escaped his tight bun whipping in the fresh breeze. The warrior’s face was tight, and River well understood Coal’s displeasure. After a decade of seeking a fifth warrior to replace their fallen quint brother, the magic apparently had decided to play a damn jest and bond them with an utterly incompatible being. Quints were fae warrior units, magically chosen, eternally bonded, and harshly trained at the neutral Citadel Court to defend against the threats forever escaping from Mors, the dark realm. “She doesn’t even feel us.”
Coal’s words twisted in River’s chest. Yes, the male was correct. Any bonded fae warrior would be roaring his way toward the quint, unable to resist the pull, even if it meant striding right into Mystwood. The girl, on the other hand, was still shoveling manure.
“What now?” Coal asked, and it was all River could do not to flinch.
“We bring the mortal to the Citadel in Lunos and ask the Elders Council to break the bond.” River turned his back on the girl whose essence now called to him. “Don’t get attached.”
