Read Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Linsey Hall
Tags: #Scottish Romance Novel, #Adventure Romance, #Love Action Fantasy, #Myth, #Fate, #hot romance, #Reincarnation, #Gods and Goddesses, #scotland, #Demons, #romance, #Cats, #Boudica, #Series Paranormal Romance, #Celtic Mythology, #Sexy paranormal
Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 1)
ROGUE SOUL (THE MYTHEAN ARCANA 3)
STOLEN FATE (THE MYTHEAN ARCANA 4)
BRAVING FATE
Linsey Hall
DEDICATION
For my love, Ben. With you, anything is possible.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This story benefited so greatly from the time and effort of many people. There aren’t enough words to express my gratitude (if there were, I’d have thought of them!)
Thank you, Ben, for helping me not only with the story, but with the countless hours you put toward getting this book into publishable shape. Thank you Catherine Bowler for all your help throughout the process of creating the book. Thank you to Carol and Mark Thomas for your help and support—it has made all the difference.
Thank you, Emily Keane, for reading every story I’ve written, even when you were studying for the bar, and always being there for me with great ideas and support. To Doug Inglis, thank you for your enthusiasm and amazing, clever ideas. Thank you, Jon McGough, for being so quick with the medical info when I have questions. Thank you to Cathy and Bob Hall for always being there for me, and Elaine and John Thomas for being so supportive.
Thank you to Valerie Hayward, Shelley Bates, and Jena O’Connor for various forms of editing. The story is much better because of your expertise. Thank you Simone Seguin for your help with back cover copy - I don’t have anywhere near your skill with that!
Thank you to my beta readers, Christy Huber, Alana Lee Rock, and Charisma Cassidy. I appreciate so much that you volunteered your time and expertise to help make this story the best it could be.
And last, but not least, thank you Kitty, Mouse, and Poa for being excellent assistants. Thank you, Chairman, for being inspiration for the best character in the book.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoy my version of the story of Boudica. She’s the historical figure who has captivated my imagination for years. I always thought she got a really raw deal. I tried to give her a second chance at a happy ending and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Happy reading,
Linsey Hall
PROLOGUE
Central England, AD 60, eve of the Roman conquest of Britain
The woman he loved lay dying in his arms. Blood spilled over her breast, trickling from the dagger she’d sunk into her chest. Drops of blood hitting the dirt floor of the stone roundhouse echoed hollowly in his ears, amplified by the dawning knowledge of what he’d done. What she’d done. What they’d done.
“Why, Boudica?” His heart and voice were breaking. “Why do this?”
She shuddered in his arms, her broken body cold and fragile with looming death, but no less fierce than when she’d fought on the field of battle the previous dawn. She was their warrior queen, the force that had drawn thousands of British Celts together to revolt against Roman occupation, and he her top general.
She was his love. The one bright spot in the miserable spectacle of blood and death his life had become.
Boudica drew a harsh breath that rattled in her wounded chest and glared at him, her eyes alight with hatred.
“Why?” It was clear she would have screamed it if she could. Another faltering breath. “After your betrayal, you ask me why?”
“Betrayal? I did it for you.”
Her bitter laugh died on a cough. “I thought you knew me. I was wrong. You only know what you think me to be. I’m a warrior, the leader and symbol of our beaten land. I led my people in battle for our lives, our homes, our freedom.” She paused to catch her breath. “But we’ve lost. Irreparably.”
His jaw clenched, his chest aching with the weight of their past and his future. For she would die this night, her future forever erased.
Because of him.
Because he hadn’t been able to protect her. As he hadn’t protected his village and family before he’d joined her.
“The Roman dogs are at our door.” She coughed. “My daughters dead at their hands. Our lands stolen. Why would I live when capture is inevitable and my very life will be used as leverage? My head will be on a pike in Rome before summer’s end. More likely, they’ll use me against our people.” She raked him with a scathing glance and coughed again. Blood marred her colorless lips. “What would you do, O great warrior?”
“The same.” His throat burned. Capture
was
inevitable. And unbearable. Now, with the final battle lost and thousands of their families and allies dying in the fields around them, the fate that awaited her at the hands of the Romans would be worse than death, not only for her, but very likely for her people as well.
He’d tried to save her from this, but she hadn’t let him. He would have committed any deed, no matter how terrible, to save the woman who’d changed his life when he’d met her a year ago. But Boudica was a warrior first, his woman second. And she would die believing he had betrayed her.
She coughed, her pallor more pronounced. “And yet you would deny me my honorable death?”
“I love you. I’d do
anything
to save you.”
“And I thought I loved you,” she whispered. And as her eyes closed, the enormous life force that had propelled Boudica, Celtic Queen of the Iceni, evaporated.
The crushing weight of grief squeezed the breath out of his lungs. Collapsing over her, the black night swallowed his roar of pain.
He would have vengeance.
CHAPTER ONE
Cadan Trinovante jerked awake, the sheets tangled in his fists. He ignored the vibrating phone that had awakened him from the nightmare and stared at the wide wooden rafters supporting the ceiling above him, struggling to catch his breath. Of all the memories that had faded in his two thousand years of life, the memory of Boudica’s death was the one that never had.
Guilt tugged at him and he reached for the phone.
“Cadan,” he said as he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The gleam of Edinburgh’s streetlights shone on hands pointing toward one a.m. The yells of revelers stumbling from pub to pub filtered in through the open window.
“Cadan, it’s Warren.”
Cadan merely grunted in response and walked to the window. He listened with half an ear as he stared out at the gothic spires of Edinburgh’s churches and the soot-blackened stone of the surrounding buildings. They rose tall and narrow, pressed cheek by jowl on either side of the sloping cobblestones of the city’s oldest street. Cadan shut out the cool night air and the sound of fading revelry.
“You’ve a new assignment,” Warren said. “Can you be here in an hour?”
Finally.
He needed something to keep his mind off the past. The damn dreams had been hounding him more often lately and he was ready to forget, to slip back into work.
“Aye, I’ll see you by two,” he said.
Damn it. He could still hear the revelers below. Living for so long was wearying, but listening to others take such joy in life was just salt in the wound.
In less than an hour, he strode through the great iron-sheathed wooden doors of a building on the campus of the Immortal University. The eyes of the eerie stone gargoyles who guarded the entrance followed him as he entered the cool halls of the Praesidium, named over a thousand years ago when Latin was still the language of education.
Fucking Latin. Fucking Romans
.
He dragged a hand through his hair. The
short drive to the outskirts of Edinburgh where the university was located hadn’t fully banished his dreams.
His footsteps were soundless on the marble floor of the wide, familiar hallway. It was a habit he’d never broken, though there was no need for stealth here. Terrible, unforgivable things happened when you let your guard down. But this was the safest place for a Mythean in Edinburgh since it was hidden from the prying eyes of mortals, who shouldn’t know of the existence of the supernatural beings who walked among them.
He pushed open the old oak door at the end of the hall and entered his friend’s office, a book-filled room lit by a small fire that smelled of autumn. Warren looked up from his cluttered desk and leaned back in his chair.
“Cadan, thanks for coming in so early.”
“No’ a problem,” Cadan said. He sank into an old leather chair across from Warren’s desk. “Who’s it this time?”
As one of the few Mythean Guardians in the world, it had been Cadan’s responsibility for nearly two millennia to protect those mortal or supernatural beings deemed important to the fate of humanity.
Warren glanced down at a rumpled piece of paper. “Looks like a Celtic warrior.”
Interesting—a man who’d been alive for as long as he. “Why’s the bloke need protecting if he’s made it this long? Destiny just revealed to him?”
And why haven’t I met him before?
Though he didn’t get out much, Cadan knew, or knew of, nearly all the Mytheans in Great Britain. The ones who hadn’t gone rogue, at least.
“Well, that’s where it gets a little strange. The warrior hasn’t been alive. The soul has just been reborn.”
“A reincarnate? They’re damn rare. Doona think I’ve ever actually met one.”