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On the night of the Double Moons a child is born.
On the night of the Double Moons a child is born.
Leading a rebellion against the terrors of a ruthless King and an even more insidious religious order, Kierigh fights to save the destiny of one child, a hidden brother and an entire land.
Jermanah, honored acolyte of the Compound, struggles to learn of power and healing. Only when her path leads to Kierigh does she discover hidden truths to enable her to lead a world-changing rebellion.
Will a saint and a rebel set aside pride and differences to accept the entwined destinies foretold by the Double Moons?
Jermanah paused in the open doorway; her breath coming in short gasps from her run at the Seerâ€™s urgent summons. The master was at his herb bench gathering dried leaves and stems into a small copper bowl. He did not turn toward her when she continued to hover in the doorway but gave a brief nod. A man lay draped across the table. Dark blood had trickled from a wound in the elevated shoulder, oozed across a muscular back and pooled on the rough table beneath him.
Jermanah moved closer and squinted at the wound. There didnâ€™t appear to be any serious muscular damage. A sudden catch in her throat stopped her breathing for a moment. Besides the elderly Seer and guards, there were no males in the Compound and the guards were always fully covered by their leather armor. A tingle not unlike the rise of healing power started low in her belly. Even though she had never seen such an expanse of bronzed male skin, she knew the muscular bulges across the broad shoulders were in just the right proportions. Her gaze dropped reluctantly. A loosened shirt hung from a soft leather belt at his narrow waist. Jermanah willed her nerves, and her rapidly beating heart to calmness.
"Ah." The Seer spoke softly then coughed, startling Jermanah from her fascinated contemplation. "You have had no practice with sword wounds in the Compound, child. This will be your test. He has already been given a sleeping draught to ease the healing."
Jermanah took a deep breath and stepped closer until she felt heat radiating from the manâ€™s skin. Bending, she peered again at the wounded shoulder. A long, sun bleached braid curled into the short gash. She carefully lifted the silky strands and brushed them forward over his shoulder. Lightly tangled in the golden mass; her fingers lingered against his skin.
She spoke without facing her mentor. "Who is he?"
The Seer snorted and then sat a bowl of warm water on the table. Crushed herbs floated on the surface, the strong fragrance soothing Jermanahâ€™s jangled nerves. "It is of no concern to you, child. It is enough to know he is not of the Compound. Proceed."
Jermanah took the soft cloth the Seer lay beside the bowl, dipped it in the water and cleansed the wound. The edges of the cut were jagged but fit together easily. The bleeding had stopped so she swiped the rag down his shoulder to wipe away the trail of dried blood. Satisfied with her preparations, she dropped the cloth into the bowl and took a deep breath. After a second breath, she placed her hands softly on either side of the gash. Her eyes lost focus while she looked within for the power to heal. Searching the deep recesses of her being, she called for the abilities she was forced to keep hidden from all but the Seer.
She spoke soft words of power and steadily pushed the torn edges of skin together. The warm tingle of healing faded as the slash knit together, leaving only a stark white scar marring the smooth tanned shoulder.
A strange sensation replaced the power and grew to an indefinable ache in her chest and belly. She caressed the manâ€™s warm skin.
The Seer lay his hands over hers, humor and questions rising in his eyes. A burning rose from her chest to fill her face with heat. The Seer smiled.
Jerking her hands from beneath his, Jermanah stared at her fingers. After a quick glance at the manâ€™s back she covered her open mouth with her fingers and fled the room.
*lizzie made up games and stories to keep her company as a child. So, a witch lived in Grampaâ€™s weather research station and was only held at bay by a certain weed. An ancient road grader became a boat carrying wild adventurers to islands filled with sheep that turned into lions and cannibals.
Now, the stories of her imagination are beginning to find their way to paper and pixels. Filled with fantasy and love, these tales take her far from the mundane world.
When *lizzie has to return to that mundane life, sheâ€™s a lead cook at a university dining service. Happily, the folks she works with have become accustomed to her writerâ€™s ways and just shake their heads when she goes off on some fantastical tangent, asks strange what if questions, or just has to find a piece of paper and a pen that actually writes. One of her greatest delights is to watch the joy of writing fill a friend, and sheâ€™ll do anything to help them achieve their dream.
And someday, when she grows up, *lizzie wants to be eccentric.
*lizzie adores hearing what you think about her tales.
"It sparklesâ€¦â€ -- Margaret B Lawrence, author of Caresse: A Loving Touch
Lizzie Starr pens an original romantic fantasy with Keltic Flight. I enjoyed learning that faeries can be sexy. The winged hero Korin faced difficult, even lethal obstacles sure to destroy his chance to win Nanceen. His determination and devotion made this inter-species romance a very pleasurable read.
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 290
Paper Weight (lb): 12.2
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