Validus (Book Two Part One Of The White Witch Of A Stór Series)

Réamhrá (Prologue)

The winds were howling and the rumbles of thunder shook the stained glass windows of his palace. Without a drop of rain to wet the earth the storm looks threatening, almost apocalyptic.

King Samual watched from his quarters with his best whiskey in hand as the servant's lockdown the centuries-old stone palace. He loves these kinds of storms, the unknown being out of his control like God himself is throwing down his wrath of fury.

He feels victory at the tips of his fingers as the young king suffers in the cold damp cell that can only be considered hell. The chains around his wrists and ankles dig into his skin as his warm red blood stains the stone floors. Samual smirks at the memory of the young man's screams as he lashed him over and over again. It will be a slow death for the young king, one drop of blood at a time until the fever sets in and he slowly slips into hell.

How dare the young king take Lámhach without building an alliance with him first? Then to have taken the Royal Princess of A Stór as his own bride was the final deed that stirred Samual. No other king should have as much power, especially not a Celtic king.

King Charles II has control of Lámhach and an alliance with A Stór is inevitable after the marriage of King George's oldest daughter. A daughter that would bring down her own wrath of hell. He allowed her to live, as an omen to King George but soon he will learn his fatal mistake.

It has been a weeks now and King Samual is confident he will soon have control of Cogadh and Lámhach. He poses no threat to A Stór for the time being, that is until his soldiers are prepared to take on such a large and strong kingdom.

A flashing light comes into view as he watches out upon his land. Each time lightening strikes he sees it move closer until she comes into view.

The wind whips her hair around and with fire in her eyes, she stared up into the very spot the king stands. The lightning casts red into her hair and the king cannot believe his eyes.

Her white satin gown, not worn by women of this day and age barely moves to the wind. A broach placed between her breasts catches the light as she stares up at him.

As a man in his thirties who has yet found his queen would usually find such beauty attractive but she is not there to extinguish his desires. She is there for vengeance, one that she never took out on the man she loves.

He has heard tale of the white witch of A Stór, or the white angel as told in her mother's homelands. A witch so captivating with fairy dusted eyes that she could seduce any man into surrender.

It seems the storm follows her and she is immune to its power, maybe even controlling it herself but he is a sensible man, not one to believe in magic or fairy tales.

"Bring the young king to me." He orders his men. He wants Liam to watch as he takes the young queen himself.

King Samual may not believe in superstition but his men shake in their boots. Especially after an army of men show up behind her, hiding in the dark air until lightning strikes again.

Samual finally sees the silhouette of what is standing behind the woman, an army greater than his own. His glass of whiskey slips from his hand and he freezes just for a moment.

An apocalypse has just arrived in Cruálacht, led by a scorned angel that will not stop until evil has been eliminated from the lands.

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

~William Congreve