Twin Passions: 3 Read Online Free
lowered.
Trembling, shaking with such pain and betrayal she distantly wondered why her magick wasn’t filling the hall with the furious sparks of her rage, she fought to hold back her tears.
Her outrage.
She could feel it crackling inside her, threatening to spark from her body and strike about the gracious Covenani marble columns and striking sparkspur stone floors that gleamed with hues of darkened red before blending into lush, red-orange streaks of the magick stone. Covenani marble and sparkspur tone amplified female power, called to it, and would have surely betrayed her had she not learned at an early age to contain her pain.
She was going to die from the effort though.
She was certain of it.
Deep in her heart, in her soul, where her magick protected her even against her tender Sorceress emotions, Astra could feel herself weakening, losing the will to stand to her feet, to protect herself from falling into the yawning pit of agony that opened inside her fragile spirit.
Her eyes filled with moisture, tears that were all but unheard of for the heir to the Keeper of the Mystic Forests.
Astra Al’madere did not cry.
Were these Wizards not aware of the laws of magickal Joinings?
Fools.
They were such fools.
Of course they were aware.
The magick that existed inside all magickal beings that was responsible for finding their natural Consort would not tolerate such betrayal of the natural ways of courtship.
Did they not remember why Wizards and Sorceresses separated a millennium before? How could they not know that once they sought to betray their natural Consort, their magick would forever hide her identity from them until the day they rectified that most heinous mistake?
She had not shed tears since those first nights after her mother, the Keeper of the Mystic Forests, had sent her from her land and gave her to the keeping of the Queen of Covenan.
She had thought, believed with all her soul, that no betrayal could ever be greater than the betrayal of a beloved mother.
As the golden rays of the life-giving sun spilled their heated magick into the receiving hall, Astra learned there were far greater betrayals.
There was the betrayal of a Sorceress’ Wizard Twins. Her Consorts, and the Wizards she alone had been created for.
She slowly flattened her back against the great stone column of the entry hall of the castle Sellane, the ruling house of the land of Covenan.
She could not believe what she heard. Surely she must have misunderstood.
Turning slowly, silently, she peeked around the column to where the two great warriors stood, discussing matters they would have done well to discuss in private.
Torran’s eyes, a deeper blue than even that of the Raging Magick Seas, like Rhydan’s lighter blue ones, were narrowed and glittering with irritation. Shielded by the enviously long black lashes that surrounded them, they gleamed the color of pure magick. Hair as black as the deepest night fell about their wide shoulders and emphasized the white of their cord cotton shirt, while their black warriors pants outlined their lean, powerful hips.
The crystalline spores of power, invisible but intuitive, reached out from the Wizard Twins, always seeking, always on alert for even the most hidden sign of danger.
It was a magick she did not fear though, one that whispered over her as it had before, caressing her with an invisible touch of such exquisite pleasure that she could only close her eyes weakly and acquiesce to it rather than protest.
Protesting would mean allowing them to know she was there. For some reason, their magick never alerted them to her presence.
The magick that filled the two men was so strong though. So strong that their natural Consortress felt it reaching out desperately for her, twining around her with a hint of confusion.
How very odd, she thought as her neck arched to the heated warmth that stroked over it, caressing the sensitive flesh with a slow, delicious touch of magick. She could
Trembling, shaking with such pain and betrayal she distantly wondered why her magick wasn’t filling the hall with the furious sparks of her rage, she fought to hold back her tears.
Her outrage.
She could feel it crackling inside her, threatening to spark from her body and strike about the gracious Covenani marble columns and striking sparkspur stone floors that gleamed with hues of darkened red before blending into lush, red-orange streaks of the magick stone. Covenani marble and sparkspur tone amplified female power, called to it, and would have surely betrayed her had she not learned at an early age to contain her pain.
She was going to die from the effort though.
She was certain of it.
Deep in her heart, in her soul, where her magick protected her even against her tender Sorceress emotions, Astra could feel herself weakening, losing the will to stand to her feet, to protect herself from falling into the yawning pit of agony that opened inside her fragile spirit.
Her eyes filled with moisture, tears that were all but unheard of for the heir to the Keeper of the Mystic Forests.
Astra Al’madere did not cry.
Were these Wizards not aware of the laws of magickal Joinings?
Fools.
They were such fools.
Of course they were aware.
The magick that existed inside all magickal beings that was responsible for finding their natural Consort would not tolerate such betrayal of the natural ways of courtship.
Did they not remember why Wizards and Sorceresses separated a millennium before? How could they not know that once they sought to betray their natural Consort, their magick would forever hide her identity from them until the day they rectified that most heinous mistake?
She had not shed tears since those first nights after her mother, the Keeper of the Mystic Forests, had sent her from her land and gave her to the keeping of the Queen of Covenan.
She had thought, believed with all her soul, that no betrayal could ever be greater than the betrayal of a beloved mother.
As the golden rays of the life-giving sun spilled their heated magick into the receiving hall, Astra learned there were far greater betrayals.
There was the betrayal of a Sorceress’ Wizard Twins. Her Consorts, and the Wizards she alone had been created for.
She slowly flattened her back against the great stone column of the entry hall of the castle Sellane, the ruling house of the land of Covenan.
She could not believe what she heard. Surely she must have misunderstood.
Turning slowly, silently, she peeked around the column to where the two great warriors stood, discussing matters they would have done well to discuss in private.
Torran’s eyes, a deeper blue than even that of the Raging Magick Seas, like Rhydan’s lighter blue ones, were narrowed and glittering with irritation. Shielded by the enviously long black lashes that surrounded them, they gleamed the color of pure magick. Hair as black as the deepest night fell about their wide shoulders and emphasized the white of their cord cotton shirt, while their black warriors pants outlined their lean, powerful hips.
The crystalline spores of power, invisible but intuitive, reached out from the Wizard Twins, always seeking, always on alert for even the most hidden sign of danger.
It was a magick she did not fear though, one that whispered over her as it had before, caressing her with an invisible touch of such exquisite pleasure that she could only close her eyes weakly and acquiesce to it rather than protest.
Protesting would mean allowing them to know she was there. For some reason, their magick never alerted them to her presence.
The magick that filled the two men was so strong though. So strong that their natural Consortress felt it reaching out desperately for her, twining around her with a hint of confusion.
How very odd, she thought as her neck arched to the heated warmth that stroked over it, caressing the sensitive flesh with a slow, delicious touch of magick. She could
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