This wind is mystical yet tame, and it sings to me.

The price for Jarrod's freedom is to be my imprisonment.

Grief and passion make a volatile mix.

Darkness at Blacklands is scary.

I recall the look in Rhauk's eyes the moment he spotted Kate. It will stay with me forever, carved into my brain like an engraving on a headstone. It's as if he found something he treasured, something he's been looking for all his life.

This wind is mystical yet tame, and it sings to me.

I did a research assignment on life in the Middle Ages only last year. I found the era fascinating, all that chivalry and court romance. But I never pictured anything as poor as this village. This is the pits. There's no romance here, definitely no chivary. And it stinks--of sweat and smoke and sewage.