Yoncey Fosch, the leader of the Unseelie Dhiultadh clan would give anything to save his brother from a mysterious plague. Anything, including his leadership mantle and a favor to his deadliest enemy, Queen Titania"s consort.
But his actions will have far reaching consequences, and Fosch realizes he is not only unwilling to pay the price, but will defy anyone who calls him on it.Books in Series:Roxanne Fosch Series by Jina S. BazzarBooks by Author:Jina S. Bazzar Books
Yoncey Fosch was a cunning man. A fee " or a Dhiultadh " a half one, since his mother had been a notorious earth witch. He was a man of many qualities, excellent attributes. He was ridiculously rich, having had centuries upon centuries of accumulated wealth bestowed upon him by his grandfather, his father, and his late mother. He was ridiculously handsome, having inherited both the charms of his pure-blooded father and his beautiful gypsy mother. He had dark hair that brushed soft waves about his shoulders, dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes that gave him a dreamy, romantic look, a poet"s nose, and a sculpted mouth. He was tall, broad, sharp. He was an undefeatable sword master; remarkably accurate with a crossbow; the clan"s champion with an arc and arrow, having won fifty archery competitions in the past two decades. He was a master in martial arts, being the head sensei for the scions in his clan. He was even handy with the more modern weapons, though he had no taste for guns.
From his earth witch mother, he had inherited the ability to power runes, sigils, glyphs. He learned to control them, to imbue them on living and dead things, to keep them hidden from clever eyes, though this tidbit was never shared with a soul but his mother. From his father he learned to hunt, to shift, to fly, to rule. His wisdom came both from his parents and the long life he had led. All in all, Yoncey Fosch not only was a blessed being and a production of good genes, but a power to be reckoned with.
He had a younger sister no one remembered, and whose circumstance had kept him away from, a half brother and a half sister from his father"s side, along with a stepsister " from his father"s third marriage " and a half aunt from his mother"s side, though this particular juicy detail wasn"t common knowledge.
He was clan leader of the Unseelie Dhiultadh, where he ruled with an iron fist and a warm heart. He was loved by everyone and everything, including the trees and animals. One of the latter even had willingly bound himself to him, giving his master his loyal devotion, and at the end, his life.
He was a man of few words and many wisdoms, a charming charisma. But on that spring of 1822, Yoncey Fosch was anything but smart. On the contrary, he was a desperate man, a grieving man.
He moved briskly through the forbidden land, the Sidhe land, a man with an urgent agenda, a heavy heart and a frantic need. The trees, giant billowing things, rustled and whispered words he didn"t listen, didn"t care to hear. He had a purpose, a goal, a fool"s errand. Yes, he was aware of the horrendous mistake he was about to commit. But he had no other choice. Were his mother alive, he would never need such an atrocious favor.
The animals of this land knew him, recognized a native, though this was no longer his world. Two-headed creatures watched his progress curiously, rabbit-like hoppers moved along with him, their tales long, reptilian things that helped them jump to the high branches and move through the canopies with ease. His familiar, a young shadow he had fed a traitor once upon a time, stirred uneasily, unseen in his higher dimension. Fosch sensed it, wanted to reassure his long-time companion, but he too felt uneasy, sick to his stomach, even if he was determined to carry this mission through. A bird of disproportional size sang a surprisingly melodious song high above the green, quickly joined by other birds. Fosch barely paid attention, his eyes fixed on the clearing he could make up ahead. It was a secret meeting, a condition both parties had agreed upon. Already he could make out the silhouette of the man, standing in the middle of the clearing watching some unseen bird, or just the beautiful sky. The clearing, a place for peace counseling, was warded against dimensional hops, as safe as the Seelie castle itself from intruders or direct attacks.
Fosch emerged into the clearing with a sure step; a warrior leader confident of his place, aware that none of the anxiety and turmoil he felt showed through. The sky was a vivid blue bowl, like nothing he had seen anywhere in any of the worlds. Had it not been for the grim moment and the high fee royalty, standing with arms crossed a few feet away, Fosch would have stopped to admire the beauty of the sky and land.
He had come unarmed, also a condition, one he met with honor. He didn"t consider Gongo " his familiar " a weapon, but a friend, one he knew Oberon was aware of.
Fosch paused four feet away from the Seelie consort. Anything closer would be construed as an insult and Fosch hadn"t asked for this meeting to quarrel.