Storm Warned (The Grim Series) by Dani Harper Read Free Book Online

the music she had made but by frustration for her inability to create more ! How often did she hear songs and tunes, both human and fae, that enlivened the deeply buried remnants of her spirit. As a grim, her clever fingers had been replaced with useless toes, yet she could still sense a tingle in them, the yearning to express the spark of music that was still part of her. It was like starving in the face of a sumptuous feast, her hands and mouth bound so she could not partake.
    Perhaps this is hell after all.

THREE

    T he fae smith lay in a pool of his own blue blood. Maelgwn paid the body no heed, nor did he spare a glance at his own blade as he spelled it clean and sheathed it. His attention was wholly on the exquisite breastplate. It was painstakingly fitted and elaborately tooled, a thing of great beauty, but he cared little for that. Nor did he particularly care about the quality of the faery-forged silver that it was made from, although it was far stronger than any steel that mortals could make.
    No, the prince had eyes only for the twenty-two small stones and eleven large stones that adorned the breastplate. They gleamed in their double-sided settings like darkly iridescent pearls, facing inward toward the wearer as well as outward, and he stroked a finger over each one as if caressing a lover. At last. Maelgwn had spent centuries accumulating the rare nuggets that possessed the priceless capacity to amplify magic. As a member of the royal family, he’d been given a bwgan stone—a very tiny one, commensurate with his distance from the throne—when he reached adulthood. Its expansion of his magical abilities was likewise unremarkable, but he’d realized the potential immediately: more bwgan stones equals more power .
    Now, finally, he had thirty-three—only the queen herself possessed more. Many he had won by gaming, a few he had purchased with his winnings, most he had stolen outright. None were from any bwgan he’d ever slain on a hunt. Very few of the aggressive, sharp-toothed creatures, perhaps only one in ten thousand, ever developed a precious stone within its skull. But the prince made certain he was seen hunting the massive salamander-like creatures often, lest anyone should ever catch sight of the handful of stones he always carried with him and question how he came by them. So far, the only one who had ever witnessed the complete collection was the smith who had crafted the breastplate. And he won’t be telling anyone.
    Slowly Maelgwn stripped off his fine clothing until he was naked to the waist, then hunched into the breastplate like a knight donning a cuirass. The process was far easier than he thought it would be, a testament to the smith’s fine eye for fit and design. Breathing deep, the prince reveled in the sensation of silver and stone against his skin. And in a sudden rush, his magic reared up within him like a rampant stallion, powerful and potent—and with it, the dizzying desire to dominate. For a long moment, Maelgwn stood with his head back, eyes closed, and arms outstretched as the intense energies from the stones burned through his body like thirty-three flames. A whirlwind of power raged within and without, gathering strength, looming larger and larger, filling the very room and threatening to consume him . . .
    Until the magic abruptly merged with him, becoming his to command.
    Maelgwn opened his eyes. Like an impatient hound brought to heel, the power sat uneasily as if eager to be sent out. Accordingly, the prince’s first act was to flick a finger toward the fallen smith and reduce the body to ash. At a word, a spectral breeze gathered the particles and bore them up the chimney of the forge, to be scattered over the swampland beyond like so much dross.
    It pleased him immensely.
    Usually the prince would have a servant dress him, but now that would have to change. A small sacrifice , he thought, as he fastened his new secret securely beneath his fine clothing. And a good