Heart Song

Copyright © 2012

by
Samantha LaF
antasie

2
nd
Ed.

http://www.samanthalafantasie.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Kindle
Edition, License Notes

This
ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook
may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
Amazon
.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Design:

Design by Francis P. LaFantasie III

Beyond the Mists Brush Set by Midnights Touch

http://www.brusheezy.com/members/midnightstouch

Space Brush Pack 2 by Helen Art at Home

http://www.brusheezy.com/members/helenartathome

Eyes Brush Set by Super Designer

http://www.brusheezy.com/members/super-designer

Editing provided by
Kris Kendal
l
with
Final-Edits.

For Phil.
Because without you, I’m nothing.

One—Betrayed

Two
—Hostage

Thre
e—Unsettling

Four
—Forgotten Secrets

Five
—Therianthrope

Six
—Reveal Of
A
Dark Secret

Seven
—Anticipate
And
Respond Accordingly

Eight
—
The
Prophecy

Nine
—
The
Ancients

Ten
—
The
Change

Eleven
—A Warm Reunion
With
Cold Tensions

Twelve
—Crossing Over

Thirteen
—Prisoner

Fourteen
—Breaking From
The
Nightmare

Fifteen
—Expecting

Sixteen
—Broken
And
Shunned

Seventeen
—All Roads Lead To You

Eighteen
—
A
Reprieve Earned

Nineteen
—Taken To A Dark Place

Twenty
—
What Is Lost Can Be Found

Twenty-One
—
Awakened For War

Twenty-Two
—
Saying Goodbye

Twenty-Three
—
Distraction

Twenty-Four
—
Naloud

Twenty-Five
—
A
Plan Set In Motion

Twenty-Six
—
Destroyed By Cyrs

Twenty-Seven
—
All Grown Up

Twenty-Eight
—
Gone

Twenty-Nine
—
New Allies

Thirty
—
A Fallen Comrade
To
Kill An Enemy

Acknowledgments

I’ve read numerous books where authors have put in their acknowledgments the shock of really just how much work goes into not just writing a book, but also publishing and marketing, etc. Really, it is that much work and sometimes more. The hours upon hours spent pouring over the manuscript to prepare it for publishing is just the beginning. And I didn’t do this on my own. I had an incredible husband who took over the house and taking care of the kids (especially during
NaNoWriMo
), and stayed up late at night as I read every version written, listened to my rants, and stood by rubbing my back when I couldn’t make a scene work the way I wanted. I also have a group of talented writer friends in my critique group, a wonderful
writer’s
organization, and helpful beta readers.

To say this was a labor of love would be to undermine exactly just how much work has gone into this novel. I’ve shed blood, sweat and tears for this book and spent many, many months researching languages and making sure I had correctly spelled the words and had them in the right order.
Not to mention n
umerous rewrites and edits, just to get it to where it is now. And although I’m admittedly a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to things that are close to my heart, I can never really feel that this can be perfect enough. However, I feel that I have done all I can do.  The story is, for all intents and purposes, finished.

With that in mind, there are a few people that I wish to give credit and gratitude.

To my family, thank you, most especially, for sticking with me and being that force of support when I was stuck in front of the computer for days on end. I’m ever grateful for all of you.

To a very special and equally talented friend,
Makayla
Yokley
, who not only was just as supportive of my endeavors of writing but for also being one heck of a beta
reader.
  Your thoughts and ideas were spot on and only helped to make my book the way it is now.

To my critique group, the Fighting Hamsters, your patience, support and input helped me get to this place. I’m forever grateful. Thank you so much.

To all of the KWA, thank you for showing me there is a group out there who is supportive and whose encouragement has helped me through some of my worst self-doubts.

Words in Translation

Cherokee

Gvgeyu:
guh
-
gay-
yoo
: I love you

Nigohilv
: nee-go-
hee
-
l-
uh: Always

Waya:
wah
-yah: Wolf

Uwoduhi: oo
-wo-do-hee: Beautiful

Gaelic

A’lainn: aw-
lin
: Beautiful

A’thair
: a-her: Father

Frigid air burned my
throat with each gulp I took. I forced my legs to pump faster, desperate for my escape. They ached with resistance, burning with a need to cease movement. But the Balai were behind me, rapidly closing the gap between us. The sound of their armor clanking and pounding in uneven rhythms echoed through the alley. I pushed myself further, not allowing myself to be caught. Because this time, I would be sent the Cyr Gypsies.

I struggled to remain on my feet as I made my way through the garbage-ridden passage. Being propelled by fear and the sting of betrayal made that goal more difficult. Fear, because I know what the Cyrs do to girls and the sting, because I trusted someone and got burned. For being my best friend, he found it very easy to frame me for stealing. I never thought it was possible.

Yet, I was reaching the end of the alley and searching for an easy slip-through amongst the crowd of townsfolk doing their daily shopping. Their loud bartering with the merchants overwhelmed the sound of my chase. I’ve never been more grateful for the busiest time in the square.

Finding no easy way through, I was forced to rush into the crowd and knock over a few unsuspecting customers in the process. Their angry shouts fell on deaf ears as I ran along the cobblestone road that stretched through the heart and length of Hafton, towards the woods that surrounded the town.

As I weaved through the small clusters of people in the crowded marketplace, a loud roar of more disgruntled shoppers behind me signaled the Balai’s appearance. Judging by the commotion, they caused more of a mess and surprise than I did.  They shouted halts and tried to call the crowd to catch me, but I was too fast for them.

The woods were so close that I could taste the sweetness of freedom on my tongue. Once I crossed into those woods, the chase would be over. The guard would be forced to give up. They’d have no hope of catching me then. I would be free, forever.

Following the quieting of the commotion behind me, I risked a turn to see if the Balai had given up, finding instead they had slowed but still made their way towards me. I turned back around, to continue my run to freedom, just as I slammed into someone. Firm hands grabbed a hold of me, stilling my heart with the shock of icy fear that jolted through my body. I was surprised we didn’t fall to the ground with the force of the hit. Yet, he stood strong and I watched with silent horror as the hood slid off of his head, revealing long black hair that curled at the tips in soft ringlets. The color matched his eyes, which were like gazing into black orbs that pierced into my soul.

Ask any woman and she’d tell you he’s perfect.
Every one besides me, of course.
I could see the flaws that make him otherwise. The arches of his eyebrows, for example, were too wide and too high. The length of his nose was too long and squared—not to mention that it ended abruptly with a point. And his lips, although they may look perfect from a distance, were in fact uneven and tilted slightly to the left.
Clearly imperfect.

“In a bit of trouble again?” he asked,
then
smiled. Any other girl would swoon, but not me. Luckily, I’m immune to such atrocities. I rolled my eyes as he released his grip on my arms.

“Marren,” I forced out between breaths, “if you’ll excuse me, I really need to go.” I stepped to the side, attempting to continue my short jaunt into the woods of my protection, but was stopped when he grabbed my arm again, spinning me around to face the guard, now closer to me than was comfortable. 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Relena.” He started walking towards the guard. I struggled against him but he tightened his grip.

“I’ve been set up,” I added, hoping for...anything other than to be handed to the Balai.

He chuckled musically. It was out of disbelief, but the sound of it caught me off guard, faltering my step. My heart did an erratic flip, flushing my cheeks with warmth, furthering my insult to injury. I only hoped he didn’t see. I struggled once more. Marren tightened his grip further.

“You’re hurting my arm,” I snapped.

“Now, now Relena, your temper is going to get you into more trouble.” His teasing tone saturated his words.  It further angered me to the point my blood boiled.

“I’m not buying your very poor shot at charm. You’ve got me mistaken with the rest of the town,” I retorted and watched in satisfaction as his smile faded.

The Balai finally met us. They were still struggling to regain their breath while I was able to breathe with ease. Every single one of them had sweat pouring from them.  This was what was protecting Hafton? They were pitiful excuses for guards.