Words Beyond Reason

Book Five of the Aruvalia Chronicles

Available on Kindle (and Kindle Unlimited) and in Paperback!

When a thief’s dominance is threatened
They’ll use every trick in their arsenal
Even if it means squaring off against their mother…

There’s a beast inside Domerin Lorcasf. When it wakes, it kills without discretion or remorse until everything in his path falls dead at his feet. Holding a sword now makes him a risk – but holding a sword is exactly what he has to do in order to once again save his beloved kingdom from imminent destruction.

To serve his duty – and continue living his life – Domerin needs to tame the beast inside him. But he has no idea how to do that when every time it awakens, it consumes his consciousness and attacks his friends. The queen claims this mad rage is supposed to enhance his channeling abilities – but first he needs to find some way to avoid turning into a mindless killing machine.

Crescent can’t help. He has his own problems since his mother suddenly melted from the depths of his history. Not dead, as he long since hoped, the woman instead appears in the middle of a royal ball to demand Crescent assist with her employer’s dastardly plans – or else she’ll ruin his life, starting with his relationship with Domerin.

Crescent doesn’t believe his mother can succeed. But that doesn’t mean he can afford to ignore her. He needs to show her what he’s become – and what he’s capable of doing. And fast. Because a storm is brewing on Aruvalia’s northern border, and all the resources its protectors can muster will be required to turn it aside.

A Face Out of the Past…
“Aveline is the one I told you about the other day,” Domerin explained as he popped another nut into his mouth. “She’s been trying to transplant southern crops from hotter climates into our greenhouse.”

“Ah!” Crescent exclaimed, suddenly understanding why her name seemed so familiar. Domerin must have mentioned her in passing several times. Though that didn’t explain his reaction to her voice.

“I don’t have any special talents,” Aveline insisted with a flip of her wrist. “I’m just very good at waiting for the results I want. Eventually, when you get the right combination of soil and water…” She snapped her fingers and raised her arm, indicating a plant shooting out of the ground.

Crescent didn’t notice what Domerin said next. He was still caught on the small glimmer in Aveline’s eyes when she said, I’m very good at waiting for the results I want.

Ice crept down his spine and into his blood. Suddenly, he wished this little corner of the garden was brighter. Would the light reveal that Aveline had faded green eyes only a slightly paler shade than his? Or that her hair was rusted blonde?

Did it matter? The woman he was thinking of could shift her appearance. She had dozens of aliases and was always ready to create a new one. She could be a brunette or a redhead. She could have eyes of blue or gold.

But while she might be able to fool everyone surrounding him, she would never be able to fool him. Not for long.

Suddenly, Crescent was hyperaware of his surroundings. He heard every jingle of pocket change, every rustle of grass as it shifted on the breeze and every scrape of shoe or heel against the stone of the pathways. He noted the deep rumble of Domerin’s voice as he continued to speak – though Crescent couldn’t focus on his words – and the steady, uneven crunch of the nuts his lover regularly deposited in his mouth.

Mostly, he was aware of the woman standing across from him and the halting grace with which she moved and spoke – a carefully cultivated, coolly calculated choreography to make her seem homely and kind when she was anything but. Her weathered features and easy laughter suggested a touch of world weariness, and she must have studied to speak of plants with the mastery she displayed in answering Domerin’s questions.

But the more Crescent watched her, the more he was sure. Domerin had never met his mother so, of course, he wouldn’t know what to look for. An oversight, Crescent reflected as Aveline laughed in response to another of Domerin’s compliments.

Why couldn’t he smell her? Had she used magic to hide her feline origins or merely doused herself in enough floral scents to blend with her surroundings?

He hadn’t seen her in so long, he’d half-convinced himself she was dead. After all, if his mother was still alive, why did she dump him in the middle of an expensive city without enough to survive for more than a few days? Why hadn’t she sent a letter or a Faerie if she couldn’t come back? Why abandon him?

His heart skipped a beat.

If his mother was here, she was up to something. And Domerin was eating nuts. Where did he get them? Aveline – or whatever she called herself these days – was a master of potions and poisons. Had she coated those nuts before she gave them to Crescent’s lover? Was that her angle?