Why bow to the beasts who dwell in darkness when beauty blooms in light?
A beastly battle brews in the kingdom of Calaise, where the fates of two lookalike heirs intertwine with a pixie beauty who is half wicked and much like her father.
Prince Ffion’s return to his country is more than he bargained for when he’s joined in his journey by the cursed offspring of his nemesis. Bellamy shares his purpose, with each seeking the ancient pixie Marin’s demise even as their collective attributes have them bringing out the worst in one another.
Despite their differences, the pair continue their pursuit, only for an unexpected run-in with Ffion’s twin to have him rethinking everything. Learning that he’s been displaced by his brother Gierson, Ffion knows the future of Calaise may not be the only thing at stake, for when Bellamy is introduced, any goodwill remaining between the brothers disappears.
But the unlikely allies will contend with more than bitter jealousy as otherworldly creatures emerge, thriving amongst the newly blooming winter roses. Soon, there will be no escape from their chaos, trapped within a beautiful, deadly cage.
A monster will rise from his ruinous lot, fighting alongside the exquisite manifestation of his torment, and she is every bit the scourge that he is. Now, he need only resist slaying her first.
General Release Date: 1st October 2024
It was inevitable that Ffion would be forced to face his demons sooner or later, though a not insignificant part of him wished for later never to come.
The road home from Neverwoode was fraught with perils—creatures of lore and circumstances befitting only the darkest of nightmares. The woodlands had become an unexpected refuge, serving as his home despite their fabled terrors, and providing a respite from an altogether different sort of monster.
Most largely steered clear of the once-hidden kingdom while faithfully denying the existence of the mythical beings and tales of legend that originated within its borders.
How easily the human mind was manipulated, conceiving of such things as quickly as it dismissed them.
Fools.
He’d been among them for a blissful period of some three-odd years. In Neverwoode, it had been easy to forget and even easier to pretend. He’d been devoted to causes and people outside of himself with great satisfaction, even as a small voice within him accused him daily of running. Hiding.
He had. There was no sense in denying it. Yet while his conscience might see fit to berate him for his cowardice, Ffion had no doubt his detour into not one but two strange realms fulfilled a higher purpose still.
But that didn’t alleviate the gnawing guilt. For if there was one thing he’d learned throughout the whole of his misadventures, it was that duty trumped all. His unwitting companions had taught him that, with more than their fair share of patience and an urgency to serve that had put him to shame.
His wrongs couldn’t right themselves. Would that his father might forgive him.
With a resigned sigh, Ffion climbed, picking up his pace as he reached the fertile terrain blanketing the outskirts of Calaise.
Home.
Nothing quite compared to the rolling splendor of their lush green meadows, even as they were overrun by scores of ruby red poppies and seas of deep blue irises. The crush of colors might’ve taken his breath away if it wasn’t such a stark reminder of his absence.
Ever higher, he hiked, grateful for the burning in his lungs providing a distraction from his racing thoughts. The uncertainty he’d faced within Wylewoode Forest paled compared to what awaited him on the other side of the bluffs.
Disappointment. Anger. Fear.
In truth, he hadn’t wanted to leave, but it seemed the only way at the time. With his mother’s and brother’s insistence, he’d fled, making for the anonymity of Neverwoode. Obscurity had suited him well, ushering him into a state of contentment as he relinquished his memories in favor of simply forgetting.
Oblivion could only be realized for so long, however, once the dust of the enchanted woods settled. Remembrance had flooded back, catching him out and sending him barreling toward his kingdom without regard for his safety or anybody else’s.
All the time he’d had to think along the way had been a double-edged sword, with regrets and inexplicable hope welling within his spirit, damn him.
Your true nature will consume you.
The thought plagued him still, leaving him grappling with his humanity. Nothing had been the same for him since, with a few brash words having transformed him from a king in wait to a pauper on the streets, running for his life—to save his own and protect the lives of others from his newly discovered appetite for revenge.
His desire was strong, driving him into the woods neighboring Calaise. Escaping Marin’s errant curse had been his aim, but he’d run headlong into immediate distress, drawn toward the very thing he wished to destroy.
Ffion had scented her long before he laid eyes upon her. She’d sat amongst the fronds and bracken, her head cradled in her hands. White-blonde hair beset with thistles and bits of leaves had fallen about her shaking shoulders, her slight form breathless as she’d wept. She’d smelled of earth, of illusion—all the things he now despised.
Her blood had called to something feral buried deep within his soul, demanding he eliminate her.
Any will to ignore her presence had been quickly overcome by the basest of instincts—a beastly quest that had grown out of that handful of uttered words from the pixie tinkerer, fating him to the role of hunter against otherworldly prey he hadn’t known existed before Marin had shown his face within the palace walls.
She was an easy target, and he a more practiced huntsman than he’d ever fathomed possible. Indeed, the sporting pursuits of his youth were less than nothing by comparison. His heightened senses and newfound lust made him a veritable brute, a predator with no discernible morality left to his name.
Yet a captivating refrain had drifted into his heart, sung into his being without a single word articulated. The melody had stopped him cold as he’d watched the pixie woman, her vulnerability nothing short of disarming. Only then had he realized what made her so different from the others he’d hunted.
Her goodness was too real, too raw to be lost. In her, he’d sensed profound decency, bewildering him and bringing him to his knees. Never before had he perceived such virtue from a pixie or a human.
In a sudden rush of awareness, Ffion had let go, relinquishing the mighty creature that had outstripped his control. He’d given in to the overwhelming calm that had seized his mind, forgetting his roots, forgetting his passions and ambitions.
He’d breathed. Deeply, for the first time in what felt like months. Rising to his feet, he’d collected himself, making for the one he’d come to know as Petra. For years he’d followed her like a pup does its master, eagerly joining her on adventures through reveries in Otherlande and freeing the people of Wylewoode from the mind-altering clutches of pixie dust they’d known as sift.
It was then that his world had come crashing down around him. The eradication of sift had led to an immediate loss of peace, sending him spiraling toward the vulgar instincts that had disappeared in Petra’s presence.
Ffion willed away the ache that always accompanied his regrets as he stepped onto the precipice overlooking his realm, the toes of his boots sending a scattering of pebbles tumbling over the cliff’s rim.
Calaise came into view—a glimmering commonwealth set within the fruitful valley that saw their nation to abundant prosperity. Gilded spires jutted from the castle domes, reaching like fingers toward the sky while crimson blooms ran the length and breadth of the grounds, covering the iron ramparts surrounding the palace. The sight of it had his insides roiling alongside an equally unsettling presence he hadn’t been able to shake for the whole of his journey home.
For more than half his travels, he’d denied the reality, keeping his distance and altering his path to create space. His control had been minimal at best, slipping further out of his grasp with each passing footstep. The nearness of his kingdom beckoned to his inner beast, challenging his restraint. He lifted his head, closing his eyes as he scented the breeze blowing at his back.
Her.
“You’re not very careful. One swift push would see you over the edge, plunging to your demise. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy, Prince Ffion?”
He turned to find Bellamy, the renegade half-breed who’d afflicted him with her presence throughout his duties in Neverwoode. “You’d love to try that now, wouldn’t you?”
“I only need one go of it.” She prowled toward him, her lips quirked in a haughty smirk, taunting him to the bitter end of his patience. Confidence had never been a struggle for the spritely vixen, which only aggravated him more.
He stepped within a breath of her, meeting her defiant gaze. The depths within her eyes might’ve been intriguing, had he not been so distracted by the darkness lurking beneath the surface. “At least Petra fought the otherwordly side of herself. Too much to expect, I suppose.”
“Perhaps she should’ve embraced it.” Bellamy wrinkled her nose, her features pinched in disgust. “But you. Just…don’t.”
Her comment startled him. Did she well and truly know?
She backed away without an ounce of fear, a suspicious look upon her face. Yet her heritage gave Ffion pause. Pixies were known for their trickery, more so for their rudeness. A mind game wasn’t out of the question. Likely, even, given her hatred for him.
Ffion shook his head, dismissing her ruminations. Better to ignore than engage. He’d done as much since he’d had the misfortune of meeting her in Wylewoode, choosing instead to focus on the tasks at hand, though she seemingly did her best to distract and annoy.
Would that she might finally let him alone.
“Brave of you to try,” Bellamy continued, turning her back to him. So much for being on her way. She glanced over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “I wonder who will reach him first.”
“Who?”
“You know very well. I could smell him on you in Neverwoode.” Striding toward Ffion, she looked past him to the kingdom lying beyond with a brief spark of uncertainty in her gaze. “Safe to say I know him better than you, though you’re likely more wounded than I. Humans are so sensitive.”
There was no question in Ffion’s mind as to who he was, for the prince detected the foul odor of the pixie Marin upon her as well. “My business with him is my own, and doubtless more urgent than yours.”
Bellamy scoffed. “You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? Yet all my brothers and sisters are dead, and I’m my own last chance to avoid the same fate.”
That brought Ffion up short. And while he thought he saw a glimmer of fear cross her face, it passed as quickly as it came.
“My father’s despised amongst his people,” she continued. “And who better to see him to his end than his halfling children? We’re no better in their eyes—worse, in fact—though failure will surely see me to the same fate as my siblings.”
“Your father—”
“Yes,” she hissed. “So tell me again how your business is more urgent than mine, beast.”
Her callous disposition grated, swiftly erasing any sense of compassion he might’ve felt, irritating him just as she had in the heart of Neverwoode. Ffion folded his arms across his broad chest, ignoring the thrill he felt standing in the presence of one every bit as wicked as he. “A bounty hunter this whole time. Just when I thought I couldn’t dislike you any more.”
“It’s my life or his, and I choose mine, such as it is.”
She was as predictable as the tides, and he couldn’t help but grin. “Of course you do.” He took a deep breath, already regretful of the words on his lips. “If it’s his legacy you wish to undo, you’ll never pull it off alone. You, of all creatures, should know that pixie trickery will sustain him. We may fair better if we track him together.”
If he’d thought her frosty before, it was nothing compared to the animus he saw in front of him now. She pinched her lip between her teeth as if to guard the secrets of her mind while she mulled his proposal. Everything about his circumstances was suspect, and working with one so manipulative, so dangerous, gave him pause. But the mad side of himself buried deeply within demanded a reckless venture.
Bellamy watched him, her long auburn hair swirling around her as the light wind picked up speed, giving her an ethereal air entirely at odds with her sullen demeanor. “It doesn’t matter as long as he’s dead.”
£4.99 Pre Order
Add to Wishlist
Read a Sample
Send as a Gift
Available in:
epub, pdf 
Facebook
Twitter
Newsletter