A New Story Begins

It feels good to be writing again.

And I'm coming back with a story I've been having far too much fun plotting.

Three women. Three romances. One big fat conspiracy.

In Averin, everyone belongs to a shifter lineage, man, woman and child, though only the males can display their beast. Here, your ties are everything, and family is about far more than what animal runs in your blood. It determines your connections, your status, and where you belong.

We will be following three heroines on their separate, and yet entangled journey to discover the truth.

I'm going to be sharing this story here as a serial, one instalment at a time. There will be romance, secrets, political intrigue, questionable decisions, and three women who are about to discover that their lives are much more connected than they ever imagined.

I'm glad you're here.

Let's see where this takes us.

****

Nailha

Life is a joke.

I know, because I seem to be the butt of it.

It isn't the whole 'abandoned at birth' thing, (though that is kind of pathetic, and I don’t want your pity, thank you).

It's the sixteen years I passed in the orphanage 'girl's school', (at the top of my class, I might add). And the extra five years I worked my ass off to complete the master culinary training, the highest aspiration someone of my station could hope to achieve.

Only to be told that the only position available, that would accept my qualifications, was that of a simple scullery maid for....Vandaven House. Vandaven House.

On one hand I should be thrilled. Any 'in' to a great house was considered a miracle. Entire families rose up in status overnight when accepted. And a dragon house, well that was almost unheard of. They had staff lining up for generations. Their own servant genealogy.

Dragons lived well above the rest of us, even the wolves, or great cats; their insurmountable power ensuring that they never even imagined wanting for anything. The hierarchy was strict; Dragons led, wolves, great cats and ursids were warriors, and anything below that fought for the scraps of what was left when they were done.

I, of course, was the lowest of the low. Not only did I not know what clan I was born from, but, as a woman, I couldn't shift, so I would never find out. Unless I was miraculously chosen as a mate, then, it was possible one of the male children might come out like me.

I snorted, drawing the gaze of the coachman that was driving the carriage. It was impossible that anyone, even the lowest of the rodent shifters, would ever consider choosing a stray--someone without clan ties, as a mate. Thank the gifted gods I had no taste for one, or children, otherwise life would be bitter on top of its cruelty.

So, yes, I should be thrilled. Servant in a dragon house. But this was not just any dragon house. It was Vandaven house. A house that was second or third tier from the ruling Blood Clan, (I could never remember which), and a house entirely besotted with aesthetic standards. At least, that's what the whispered rumors said. Not a single unattractive man or woman allowed. On a scale of one to ten you had to be at least an eight to pass through the servant's doors.

Twenty one years busting ass so I could be hired as eye candy.

For just a moment I allowed my forehead to thunk against the cool window. The morning fog had yet to burn off from this section of the woods, and the glass, several degrees cooler than the carriage interior, was soothing my growing headache.

The road twisted and one of the wheels ground over a large stone, tossing me to the side and I gave up on feeling sorry for myself. It was a useless venture anyway.

The estate, when it came into view, was...well, I had to admit it was magnificent. I'd spent the entirety of my childhood in the Desfir home for girls; a dedicated, if not well off, orphanage that lay on the east end of Emberlary Crossing.

Then, as soon as I'd aged out at twenty-one I'd traveled straight to Hildersbuke, where I'd earned the only scholarship ever given to a girl from Desfir home, to attend the Wesiva Culinary Academy. I'd thought that was a culture shock, Eberlary Crossing was a mid sized city, with all the proper amenities, but Hildersbuke was well beyond what I had ever known.

Vandaven house wasn't even in the same world.

I managed to clack my jaw shut as I viewed the massive palace, because palace was the only word that could describe it. We had crested a hill, the trees opening into an expanse of meadow, the road winding downward to a well built gate that was the only break in a stone enclosure that was miles long. The main house stood at the center, silvery towers steeped in ivy vines shot up like long white claws, each topped with a flattened platform decorated with arches and railings.

....ohh I was way out of my element.

I glanced down at the sensible and sturdy dress, the best one I had, and fought the familiar crest of dread that churned inside. I wasn't going to fit here, just like everywhere else.

"You be heading to the west entrance miss?" The coachman glanced back at me. We’d neared the palace while I’d been busy fretting away.

The building was even more magnificent up close and I was lost in the intricate details, every buttress and arch was uniquely carved. It must have cost a fortune. It took a moment for me to pry my eyes away and meet the coachman's gaze, alight with male interest.

I knew what he saw. Slender and tall for a woman, I stood at five foot nine. I was young still, twenty six, but my hair had been as silver as an old woman since the day I was found, matched with the icy gray of my eyes shadowed by lashes so dark I'd been accused of making them up more than once, high cheekbones and a ridiculously clear complexion, and I struggled to avoid notice wherever I went.

Hence the appointment to house Vandaven, no doubt.

The coachman, a solid seven point five out of ten, waggled his brows, awaiting my answer.

"Wherever the kitchen is," I told him, refusing to engage in his flirting.

If he was disappointed I didn't see it, focused instead on the shadow that passed overhead, I craned my neck upward, pushing my face against the window...and there he was. A glorious creature with glittering scales the color of a burning forest. Wings spread wide, and nearly translucent, the light filtering through, sparkling like beams of moonlight through water. Dragon.

Wow.

Breathe in Nailha.

The carriage turned and I lost sight of the beast, focusing once more on the perfection of my surroundings. A second wall divided the side yard from the main estate, as we passed through the change of scenery was immediate.

Here functional buildings lined the wall. Blacksmith, smokehouse, pens for livestock and coops for fowl. Everything was neatly organized, almost fanatically, but it lacked the elaborate details and fairy tale feeling of the rest of the estate.

It was early enough that only a few people moved about in the early morning light. A maid or two, shuffling in and out of the coop and a manservant, struggling with something against one of the building walls.

It took a moment for me to realize, rather embarrassingly, that the way he was struggling had a distinct rhythm, and that there was indeed, another body with him, writhing.

I flushed, the heat of my realization crawling up my neck and to my cheeks. The driver turned, a knowing smirk twisting his lips when he saw my expression.

"Welcome to Vandaven house."