Illustration by Linnea Sinclair

Merla has a mission to accomplish and must leave her child with a guardian. But can she trust a self-confessed thief masquerading as a holy man?

Merla stumbled along the moonlit path between towering trees, fearful of dropping her precious burden. The forest was silent, but she knew her enemy trod almost at her heels. Evil beat at her senses, smothering as a shroud. She reached a small clearing and her numb legs gave way, pitching her to her knees on the frost-crisped turf. Ice seared her lungs as she fought for breath. The child in her arms gazed at her with luminous eyes, trusting and unafraid. Ah, how she loved him. She would see him safe, even if it meant she must give him up.

Dry bracken lay thick under the sweetbriers at the far end of the glade. Cuddling the child in his shawl, she laid him amongst the fronds. She raised her hands and called down starfire to hide him, drawing dim light to gather and swirl about them like a cloak. This done, she chanted ancient words and felt the Summoning go out into the dark, seeking the one who would care for the child as he grew. She smiled. The boy was safe now. She kissed his forehead and unclasped his small arms from about her neck. Her whisper stirred his silken hair.

“The Gods cherish thee, Macklin, my son.”

Stepping from the globe of light, she turned to run, to fulfill her obligation to her kinswoman, even as she led the enemy away from her child.

But already it was too late.