Lost Lady of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 7)

  Neither living nor dead

  Lady Iora doesn’t exist. Everyone believes she died at birth, but the goddess Persephone swept her away at the moment of her death. Now, she’s fighting for a chance at life, by proving to the Fates she’s worthy of her destiny. She has one remaining assignment, and it should be easy enough, but the roguish satyr accompanying her brews more trouble than he keeps her out of.

  Cast out at birth

  A satyr born to a nymph mother, Alder has no place in either world. If not for his devoted friend Petraeus, he’d have no home at all. So when the goddess Persephone tasks him with escorting Petraeus’s long-lost sister, Alder readily accepts the challenge. And a challenge she is. The beguiling Lady Iora tempts him to cross boundaries he knows he truly shouldn’t.

  Caught between worlds

  When war with the Lapiths breaks over them, Iora and Alder must decide if they are daring enough to seize the lives they were always meant to. And what they would sacrifice for love—death, or life.

  Table of Contents

  Free Read!

  Things Lost

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue Part 1

  Epilogue Part 2

  Glossary

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Rachael Slate

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  Together, we are lost no more

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Rachael Slate

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First Edition November 2016

  Edited by Kelley Heckart

  Cover design by NovelArt Designs

  Formatting by NovelArt Designs

  Epub: ISBN 978-1-988396-09-5

  Kindle: ISBN 978-1-988396-10-1

  When the Olympian gods overthrew the Titans, they divided the rule of the world. Zeus proclaimed himself Supreme Ruler and governed the skies. Poseidon claimed the oceans. The Underworld, and the souls of the dead, fell to Hades. All were content with the arrangement.

  Until Hades met Persephone.

  Their forbidden love blasted through Mt. Olympus, initiating a cataclysmic rift between the gods. The imbalance in the heavens nearly shattered the fragile human world below. In punishment, Zeus cursed Persephone. Nine months of each year, she would remain by her mother’s side, tending to the human harvests. The other three months were hers to spend with her husband, Hades, in the Underworld.

  The arrangement pleased none.

  Centuries have passed. As humans turn their devotion to Science, the powers of the Olympian gods diminish. In an attempt to regenerate their divinity, the gods have procreated, breeding new species of being—such as centaurs, winged ones, and mermaydes. With the unique strengths of their individual godly parents, these descendants have thrived in their own worlds, alongside humans but hidden from view.

  The rift in Olympus widens as each god gains new strength. When the Fates intervene with a damning wager, these descendants become the answer to Persephone’s curse. Hades and Persephone’s quest to reclaim their love will pit god against god, in a tournament unmatched since time began. Victory will lie in the union of warriors—exceptional females who control the elements and the males whose love makes them strong.

  If they succeed, love will be theirs to claim.

  But if they fail, their love will fall to ruin.

  It is the eve of war, and the battle for the power of Things Lost begins now.

  Centaur lands, Thessaly

  Year 1384 of the reign of King Cheiron II

  Or the human year, 1689

  A unicorn? Alder staggered forward and caught his balance, gaping into the valley below, toward the…unicorn? Was it possible? In this enchanted place, aye, perhaps. Squinting, Alder made out the hind end of a horse, its tail flicking in the gentle breeze. Its flank was white, nay, not white. He peered harder as the creature swished its tail, its front half concealed within the forest.

  In this early dawn light, the horse’s hide shone and shimmered with the hues of the rainbow, condensed into a brilliance so pure one could not call it white. Pearlescent was a better word.

  Bloody hell, it was a Hippos Monokeras—a unicorn—a fabled beast so rare and pure few ever stumbled into its presence. He inhaled sharply and the air floated through his lungs, sweeter and lighter than it had moments before. Certainly the work of gods. Just like this pristine valley. Lush, rolling thickets spread across the high-grassed field, backing into a dense wood four hundred yards away. He stilled, not daring to approach the fantastic beast lest he startle it. A bastard like him wasn’t worthy of beholding such a creature. Nay, he was naught but a mismatched being, born between two worlds and scorned from both. If it weren’t for his best friend, Petraeus, he’d likely be dead.

  Right. Thoughts of his friend brought him back to why he’d ventured to this charming meadow in the first place. The goddess Persephone had tasked him with escorting Petraeus’s long-lost sister on some grand quest, and how could he refuse? He’d do anything to repay the male who had granted him a second chance at life.

  Guarding a maiden seemed an easy enough task. After all, what did lasses do other than pluck flowers and engage in needlepoint? Truly, he did not know.

  Sighing at the unicorn, Alder twisted aside and steered toward the manor in the far distance. Persephone had told him the Lady Iora resided within.

  A shrill war cry arose from behind him, in the direction of the unicorn. Fearful for its fate, he whirled around.

  Instead of a beast assaulting the unicorn, it was the creature attacking him. Nay, only ’twas not a unicorn. A female centaur? Alder regarded the centauress charging him, a long spear in her hand, arm raised to thrust the weapon straight at him.

  Dear gods, she’s going to kill me.

  ***

  Lady Iora stormed toward the intruder, spear aimed and ready to strike. Her hooves pounded the soft grass, tearing a path toward him. How in Hades had he entered this place, her sanctuary? The fearsome wards should have prevented him.

  The invader didn’t move, didn’t reach for a weapon. He simply stood and gawked at her, his jaw gaping. The tall male wore a long leather jacket, and there was something odd about his legs. They were furred?

  She continued her advance and suddenly, his eyes widened and he stumbled backward, tripping over the underbrush.

  Iora slowed as she neared him, her spear aimed at his throat. “Halt.” No, that wasn’t right. He was already frozen. “Who are you a
nd why have you trespassed into this sacred place?” Better.

  “Please, don’t kill me.” The hood of his long leather jacket concealed the upper half of his face, revealing only a sturdy, square jaw and a seductive quirk to his full lips. “I’ve been summoned by the goddess Persephone.”

  Narrowing her stare, she studied him. Thickly-muscled caprine legs formed the lower half of his body, ending in cloven hooves instead of feet. A satyr. Devoted to the god Dionysus, satyrs were bawdy, lustful creatures who concerned themselves with nothing much other than wine and companionship.

  This one didn’t appear dangerous, and his jacket concealed any hint of whether he might be in a constant state of arousal. His shoulders were broad and even through the dense covering of his coat, she detected the pleasing outline of brawny arms.

  Extending one placating hand, he wrenched the hood off with his other, flashing kind, russet eyes at her. Familiar eyes. “Might I presume you’re Lady Iora?”

  She straightened, her breath hitching. I know him. Indeed, she recognized this male as her brother’s friend, yet he ought not to know her, or her true name. He must have spoken the truth, that he’d been sent by her goddess. She tilted aside her spear, but didn’t release her tight grip. “I am.”

  The satyr hopped to his feet and bent, sweeping one arm in a low, courteous bow, the other hand running through the unruly crop of ruddy locks mussed across the top of his head. “Alder, at your service, milady.”

  “Alder.” His name rolled off her tongue. Yes, that’s right. Yet she had no desire to admit this wasn’t their first encounter. “Who are your people?”

  He flinched, but seemed to force a smile. “I have none, milady, but I am well-acquainted with your brother Petraeus.”

  My brother. Well, one of them. She had five, none of whom had ever met her…as herself. “State your purpose.”

  Instead of answering her, he cocked his head, his appreciation roaming across her figure and making her skin flush. “Stop that.”

  He flicked his sultry gaze to hers. “Stop what?”

  “Ogling me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  She scoffed. What an irksome male. “Like I’m a strumpet you wouldn’t mind nibbling.”

  A quirk curved his mouth. “I wouldn’t.”

  His words flamed heat through her body, but she stumbled on his meaning. “You would, or you wouldn’t?”

  He winked at her, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. “I’ve never met a centauress before.”

  Fancy change of subject. She frowned at him. “There aren’t many of us.”

  “I mistook you for a unicorn.”

  She raised a brow. “Well, I’m not one.”

  “A pity that.” He scratched his jaw and cast his focus toward her manor.

  She fisted her hands. His dismissal made her even more irritated than his previous flirtation. Males didn’t often stumble across her path, and this youthful satyr was handsome, in an unusual yet rugged manner. Thick, long lashes lined his russet eyes and his ears had the smallest hint of a point to them. His bearing was a little awkward, and yet natural, as if he cared not how he appeared to others. The dimple on the right side of his mouth popped as he cast her a mischievous smirk. His lips looked firm and inviting, and the yearning to press her mouth against them spiraled through her.

  “I’ve never met a satyr.”

  “Oh, there are lots of us,” Alder quipped and extended a hand toward her manor. “Shall we?”

  “Shall we what?” She perched a hand on her waist.

  “Why, restore you, of course.”

  ***

  Alder grinned at the lovely creature. Now that she wasn’t bearing a spear pointed directly at the apex of his throat, he much better appreciated her beauty. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the human half of her tall, curvaceous figure, garbed in a dark leather bodice, and those pale shimmering locks that grazed her waist. Her tiny sprite nose flared ever so slightly in the center of her diamond-shaped face and full, rosebud lips pouted at his jests and flirtations.

  But damn, he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything of the sort. He gulped. She’s Petraeus’s little sister. He was well-acquainted with Iora’s five elder brothers and only a male out of his right mind would cast even a second glance at their sister.

  Any more would result in those centaurs knocking him flat onto his back, ripping out his eyes, and stuffing them, ah, well. He cleared his throat and tore his perusal off the maiden. There would be no frivolity between himself and the Lady Iora.

  Ever.

  “What do you mean, satyr? Don’t speak in riddles with me.” She huffed, her large, round eyes flashing. They were sparkling orbs, irises outlined in dark grey that paled as they circled her pupils. One could get lost in depths such as those.

  He blinked rapidly several times. “The goddess Persephone requested that I accompany you on your tasks. She claimed, once you’ve completed your quest, you’ll be restored to your fully human state. Is that not correct?”

  The pastel cream of her skin paled even further. “She told you all of those things?”

  “Indeed.” He nodded, adding, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed by, your state of…” He twirled his fingers through the air, searching for the correct words.

  “Death.” Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “You can say it. I’m neither alive nor dead, but something in between.” Her shoulders dropped as she sighed. “I am lost.”

  The depth of sadness in her voice tugged at his chest. “If it helps, so am I.” Her scrutiny whipped to him, and he corrected, “Well, not dead, but not belonging anywhere either. My mother is a nymph, and my father is a satyr, and neither would have me as their son.” He’d lived with those facts for so long they were deeply buried in ice, no longer searing enough to be able to hurt him.

  “Oh, that is sad.” Empathy flickered in her frown and warmth sank deeper into his chest, further into his body than mere attraction. She was precisely the kind of sweet creature one could fall for.

  Hard.

  Wincing, he tore his admiration off her. She was not for him. No one was. “Do you need to gather any supplies before we set off?”

  “We? Yes, indeed.” Iora shrugged and seemed to accept being saddled with him. “Follow me. It’s going to be a long, difficult journey.”

  He swallowed thickly, following behind her, the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach proclaiming she had no idea how difficult a journey this would be with temptation within his grasp. Every. Step. Of. The. Way.

  The manor loomed before them, an ivory fortress shimmering in the early morning sun. Manicured lawns spanned the estate, blending into fields of wildflowers. A most unlikely location for such a splendorous palace, yet these were enchanted lands, belonging to the gods Hades and Persephone. The flowers, especially the daffodils, were Lady Persephone’s touch.

  Haltingly, he trailed behind Iora, up a set of wide stairs and across the threshold, crisp air rushing over him.

  “I’ll be but a few moments,” Iora chirped, then galloped off toward the right-hand corridor.

  He shuffled his cloven hooves, glancing around her home. Poor lass, she’d been raised here, instead of with her family. They didn’t even know she existed.

  His own family was well aware of his existence, yet fully indifferent. He’d come to accept those cold truths, yet Iora had a loving family, one she was forbidden to interact with.

  The goddess’s words rumbled through his mind, the only part he’d withheld from Iora. At the moment of her birth, Iora had died, but Persephone had taken pity upon the centaurs and restored her to this in-between existence. In saving Iora, Hades and Persephone had thwarted the Fates, yet not even the gods of the dead could grant Iora life. For Iora had died that day and despite this quest they were on, the Fates might never grant her the chance to live amongst her family.

  Sadly, Alder well understood that hard, cruel fate.

  ***

  A ripple of excitement shi
vered beneath Iora’s skin. At last, she was ready for the final task. Years of preparation had culminated in this moment. Persephone sending her an escort stung a little, but Iora shoved off the irritation. Alder was not such a terrible companion, and her existence was a lonely one.

  With only gods and the dead for company.

  Besides, he was rather handsome and intriguing. From her observations of him, he was also kind of heart and noble. Long had she awaited the opportunity to meet him as herself.

  “Ready?” She rushed down the stairs.

  He leaned against the wall with legs crossed. “Aye.” His dark, appraising stare swept across her legs and caused heat to flush her cheeks. She’d performed the morphos into human form because traipsing about as a centauress would definitely draw more attention than the stealth their mission required.

  She flicked her tongue across her lips. “Are you finished yet?”

  “Not nearly.” The corner of his mouth curved wickedly, sending flames cascading through her core.

  Shaking her head, Iora handed him a satchel of supplies, then strode past him and down the entry steps, out into the field. She tightened her hold on the sack slung across her shoulders and faced the horizon. This was it. The beginning of the end of her journey.

  For years, she’d watched Persephone and Hades orchestrate their moves, all the while knowing their enemy was doing the same.

  Now, they’d reached a breaking point.

  The centaurs had no idea what was coming.

  A cheery tune whistled from Alder’s lips while he followed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Though the path was wide enough for them to walk together, he maintained a respectful distance. She shrugged and trudged ahead.

  The sun rose in the sky and slowly made its descent as they approached the wards protecting the boundary of her sanctuary. Iora paused at the edge and murmured the passwords, “Asphodelus, eros, and aionios.” Only the correct words spoken with true intentions of the heart would be permitted access. Both she and Alder crossed without issue.