Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series by Heather Fleener Page A

Realm
objected.
    Sayer nudged him, a brief smile touching his
lips as he nodded in Kaitriana’s direction and murmured
“Magnificent.” Lorcan then noted that too many of the warriors
surrounding them held the same warm regard in their eyes for the
her.
    The acknowledgement by his brother of his own
thoughts had pushed Lorcan from his pondering. Whether or not she
was the Chosen, her existence would mark the beginning of many
changes in the Realm. He already felt possessive towards the witch
and his instincts demanded that she be his alone. He frowned at
Sayer and the frown remained as he moved closer to Kaitriana.
    At viewing Lorcan’s expression, she
misinterpreted it as displeasure with her actions. Kaitriana
allowed the sword to slip from her grasp and she quickly buried her
hands within the fine threads of her skirts. His frown lessened as
he realized the girl believed that by hiding her hands from him she
might deny the magic that all present had just beheld. She peered
up at him with a feigned expression of wide-eyed innocence.
    Lorcan admired the way she stood her ground,
brave in his estimation but he hardly managed to contain his
laughter though over her affected posture of innocence. She was a
brave, but silly little witch. Kaitriana’s eyes had returned to
pools of blue in the few short strides it took him to reach her.
They began to sparkle at him when the frown left his face and he
spoke, “Club Abomination?…Really?”
    At his teasing words, her spirits lifted
immediately. Instead of an answer, Kaitriana asked, “Are you going
to…throttle…me now?”
    Lorcan shook his head to indicate the
negative, laughter erupting at her solemn expression. The twinkle
in her eyes even as she put the question to him told him that she
had already been fairly certain of his response. He believed that
the playful nature of this one would serve him and his Coven well.
The endless war had worn on them all and she could well be the key
to returning some life to his people. He studied her face; her eyes
were filled with the fatigue from the night’s confrontations and
the transition. He murmured with affection, “You need rest, little
Kat.”
    Her lips puckered with a quick survey of her
form, “What I need is a bath.” Kaitriana was sincerely hoping that
he had modernized the ancient stone fortress before her with the
type of bathing chamber her grandfather had added for her at
Laverock. When Lorcan gravely gave his agreement she was pulled
from those thoughts.
    She knew it was unreasonable but she wanted
to kick his booted shin. She’d only just admitted to herself that
she had held hopes that he might have an attraction to her. Her
thoughts were trivial given all that she had been through and
absurd given her current state of dishevelment but Kaitriana wanted
to affect him the way he did her. She’d admired him since that
night in her Uncle’s cottage. Although excruciatingly aware that
his agreement was naught but the truth, her exhaustion and hunger
were making her perverse and cranky. She adored him and he still
saw her as a little girl to protect, but now just an exceedingly
dirty one. She gave him a frown.
    Lorcan had no idea what the mental
conversation the little witch had just had with herself entailed,
but it was no doubt a doozy, given her expression. He tapped the
creases that had formed on her forehead, “Cease, Witch. You’ll be
fed, have your bath, and then you will get the rest you require.”
The tone of his order conveyed that he would tolerate no argument
with these decrees. He followed with a curious question. “Why has
Myrrdyn not yet come to you?”
    She was petulant and felt exhaustion dragging
at every fiber, causing her to be more difficult than necessary.
Rather than share her speculations and worry on the very same
topic, she merely shrugged and remained silent. Lorcan let out an
exaggerated sigh just as his eyes lit up on the tiny gold cross at
her throat; the symbol bespoke of her