| Arano Llewellyn, Master Seer in Mystic Valley has dreamed that his destiny lies with Silence Brown, a woman fourteen years older than him. Silence is trapped in an abusive relationship with Homer her bond mate. Unexpectedly she is freed at last when Homer dies in a lightning storm. But there are obstacles to overcome before they can meet the destiny Arano has foreseen. Silence must move past her terrible past and learn to trust Arano on the deepest levels while he allows her the time and freedom to become the woman she was meant to be. His Justice Warrior twin Arturo, desolate and damaged from a brutal attack and rape struggles to recover as he sets out on a journey of discovery to seek the mate Arano has promised him. Before he is ready to accept the love his future mate offers he must face his greatest fears and haunting truths about his past. The Master Archivist, Banisher Ewell is waiting with a loving heart when Arturo is finally ready to face his destiny. |
In the forest behind the pale blue dome where the Browns lived on the edge of Lost Market, Arano
slouched against the trunk with his long legs stretched out on a broad limb high in a malzhal tree.
Some of his dark braids caught on the rough bark when he shifted, scratching his bare back on the
trunk. He cocked his knees and his gray sharda slithered along his legs, bunching in a soft pile of
fabric at his crotch. He idly picked at the iron-hard glittering black wood with his flicknife while he
mulled over all that he knew about the disrupting changes coming to the peaceful valley. It was barely
spring but he foresaw a turbulent summer and fall. His recent series of visions were nothing like the
others he’d had since he was a small child. Those were mostly minor disturbances. Simple non-life-
threatening things. Llyon falling out of a tree and breaking his arm. Eppie getting lost in the woods.
Wrenna twisting her ankle.
His last few visions were dreadful and destructive. If there was real truth in them, then Arturo was in
terrible danger. They had argued violently for the first time since their birth over twenty years ago
when Arano tried to convince Arturo not to go hunting at the Far Woods. Then Turo had angrily
stalked off, determined to prove that Arano was wrong. In his soul, Arano knew he wasn’t wrong and
he grieved for the ordeal he was helpless to prevent. Violence, danger and change were coming to
the valley and there was nothing he could do except share his visions and hope someone would
listen.
Without warning, a terrifying shriek screamed along the mental link he shared with his twin. Before
he even realized it was happening, Arano had dropped from his perch and was drumming through
the woods to Lost Market, intent on reaching Arturo.
Arano! Arturo pleaded. Help me!
I’m coming! Fight, Arturo! I’m coming!
Arano hit the river bridge at a dead run, pounding across the wooden span in half a dozen strides.
By the time he reached the far edge of the training field, Llyon and Tyger had caught up with him. Far
behind them, their father and Dai trotted as fast as they could, knowing that they had no hope of
keeping up with the younger men.
I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming… Arano mindlessly repeated his assurance, a desperate
mantra against the terrifying fear that Arturo wouldn’t survive long enough for them to reach him.
As Arturo’s shrieks for help grew fainter and weaker and finally degenerated into mindless chaos,
Arano poured on more speed, all the while adjuring his twin to hold on, to fight, to stay with him.
At the edge of the Far Wood, several men silently waited. Arano and his brothers recognized the
guardian warriors and halted long enough for him to demand, “Where is he?”
Shadrach Bell, the towering powerful son of the Bell’s Corner clan chief, didn’t try to detain him but
merely picked a man to escort them into the heavy forest. Time enough for intervention when they
saw exactly what had been done to their sibling.
Not far into the woods a circle of men stood guarding a blood covered bundle sprawled on the forest
floor. Arano’s heart stopped. Then he moved to the “thing” that was his twin and dropped to his
knees next to his head. When Llyon would have touched Arturo, he stopped him.
“Don’t touch him yet,” he ordered sharply. “He’s not stable enough to tolerate anyone’s touch.”
“What would you have us do, Arano?” Llyon’s frustration and rage were clear. “Let him die?”
“No! But if you touch him before I link with him, he will die! There is nothing but chaos inside his
mind,” Arano whispered desolately. “Nothing but chaos.”
Tyger jerked Llyon away from Arturo restraining him by wrapping his strong arms around him and
nodded to Arano. “Do whatever you need to do.” Then he buried his face in his twin’s fiery braids
and held him close, knowing they were feeling the same ferocious fury.
Yanking his sharda off, Arano spread it on the ground near Arturo’s head. He knelt as close to Arturo
as possible and gently, oh so gently, moved Arturo’s head to his lap, knowing that of all the senses,
the sense of smell was the most primitive. And the deep, musky scent of skin was the earliest scent
imprinted on a child. Let Arturo be surrounded by his twin’s scent. The reassurance of their shared
scent would reach him on the deepest level.
When Arturo’s head was cradled in his lap, Arano placed his palms on each side of his brother’s
face, fiercely blocking out the terrible bruises and bloody damage and dived into his mind. It was far
worse than he had feared. Pain and terror swirled in a chaotic whirlpool of despair and longing.
Sternly suppressing the urge to scream from the anguish, Arano linked with his twin and began to
create order from the chaos. I am here, he whispered. Arturo, I am here. Nothing will touch you now. I
will let no one hurt you. I am here.
He pushed deeper into true rapport, the mind sharing usually reserved for bond mates because of
its naked intimacy. Rapport, where there were no secrets. No hidden longings. No private dreams. I
am here, he whispered. I will always be here.
With startling abruptness, Arturo whimpered and went limp.
“Now,” Arano urged softly. “Heal him now.”
slouched against the trunk with his long legs stretched out on a broad limb high in a malzhal tree.
Some of his dark braids caught on the rough bark when he shifted, scratching his bare back on the
trunk. He cocked his knees and his gray sharda slithered along his legs, bunching in a soft pile of
fabric at his crotch. He idly picked at the iron-hard glittering black wood with his flicknife while he
mulled over all that he knew about the disrupting changes coming to the peaceful valley. It was barely
spring but he foresaw a turbulent summer and fall. His recent series of visions were nothing like the
others he’d had since he was a small child. Those were mostly minor disturbances. Simple non-life-
threatening things. Llyon falling out of a tree and breaking his arm. Eppie getting lost in the woods.
Wrenna twisting her ankle.
His last few visions were dreadful and destructive. If there was real truth in them, then Arturo was in
terrible danger. They had argued violently for the first time since their birth over twenty years ago
when Arano tried to convince Arturo not to go hunting at the Far Woods. Then Turo had angrily
stalked off, determined to prove that Arano was wrong. In his soul, Arano knew he wasn’t wrong and
he grieved for the ordeal he was helpless to prevent. Violence, danger and change were coming to
the valley and there was nothing he could do except share his visions and hope someone would
listen.
Without warning, a terrifying shriek screamed along the mental link he shared with his twin. Before
he even realized it was happening, Arano had dropped from his perch and was drumming through
the woods to Lost Market, intent on reaching Arturo.
Arano! Arturo pleaded. Help me!
I’m coming! Fight, Arturo! I’m coming!
Arano hit the river bridge at a dead run, pounding across the wooden span in half a dozen strides.
By the time he reached the far edge of the training field, Llyon and Tyger had caught up with him. Far
behind them, their father and Dai trotted as fast as they could, knowing that they had no hope of
keeping up with the younger men.
I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming… Arano mindlessly repeated his assurance, a desperate
mantra against the terrifying fear that Arturo wouldn’t survive long enough for them to reach him.
As Arturo’s shrieks for help grew fainter and weaker and finally degenerated into mindless chaos,
Arano poured on more speed, all the while adjuring his twin to hold on, to fight, to stay with him.
At the edge of the Far Wood, several men silently waited. Arano and his brothers recognized the
guardian warriors and halted long enough for him to demand, “Where is he?”
Shadrach Bell, the towering powerful son of the Bell’s Corner clan chief, didn’t try to detain him but
merely picked a man to escort them into the heavy forest. Time enough for intervention when they
saw exactly what had been done to their sibling.
Not far into the woods a circle of men stood guarding a blood covered bundle sprawled on the forest
floor. Arano’s heart stopped. Then he moved to the “thing” that was his twin and dropped to his
knees next to his head. When Llyon would have touched Arturo, he stopped him.
“Don’t touch him yet,” he ordered sharply. “He’s not stable enough to tolerate anyone’s touch.”
“What would you have us do, Arano?” Llyon’s frustration and rage were clear. “Let him die?”
“No! But if you touch him before I link with him, he will die! There is nothing but chaos inside his
mind,” Arano whispered desolately. “Nothing but chaos.”
Tyger jerked Llyon away from Arturo restraining him by wrapping his strong arms around him and
nodded to Arano. “Do whatever you need to do.” Then he buried his face in his twin’s fiery braids
and held him close, knowing they were feeling the same ferocious fury.
Yanking his sharda off, Arano spread it on the ground near Arturo’s head. He knelt as close to Arturo
as possible and gently, oh so gently, moved Arturo’s head to his lap, knowing that of all the senses,
the sense of smell was the most primitive. And the deep, musky scent of skin was the earliest scent
imprinted on a child. Let Arturo be surrounded by his twin’s scent. The reassurance of their shared
scent would reach him on the deepest level.
When Arturo’s head was cradled in his lap, Arano placed his palms on each side of his brother’s
face, fiercely blocking out the terrible bruises and bloody damage and dived into his mind. It was far
worse than he had feared. Pain and terror swirled in a chaotic whirlpool of despair and longing.
Sternly suppressing the urge to scream from the anguish, Arano linked with his twin and began to
create order from the chaos. I am here, he whispered. Arturo, I am here. Nothing will touch you now. I
will let no one hurt you. I am here.
He pushed deeper into true rapport, the mind sharing usually reserved for bond mates because of
its naked intimacy. Rapport, where there were no secrets. No hidden longings. No private dreams. I
am here, he whispered. I will always be here.
With startling abruptness, Arturo whimpered and went limp.
“Now,” Arano urged softly. “Heal him now.”