by Olena Nikitin
April 21st 2023
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
“Chaos and the wicked soul know no rest.”
(Old folk proverb)
Ina has no time to enjoy domestic life with Mar. As soon as life settles down after the Winter War, King Rewan calls his Royal Witch to give her a new task.
Southern rebellion, crops dying, and an endless stream of assassins attacking the king, leaving a trail that backs to a neighbouring kingdom. To make matters worse, an ancient cult has emerged from the shadows offering sacrifices to Winter’s Death.
One fateful letter and Ina is back on the road with an unlikely companion. But what can one Chaos mage do against so many enemies and the power of the Old Gods?
Immerse yourself in the third book of Season’s War, where passion mixes with cruelty, and the world-changing power can shackle even goddess to the mortal plain. The book is NOT standalone for the best experience, consider reading in the series order.
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When the great hall doors exploded inwards, nearly crashing off their hinges, a furious, muddy dragon striding through the gap with a sour-faced Daro in tow, she knew it would be more than just a lecture.
‘Ina! What in Veles’s name did you do this time?’
‘Why do you always assume I did something? And stop throwing people around; they don’t deserve to be manhandled.’ Mar’s dishevelled appearance finally registered, and it occurred to her that sending him to Alsia might have been more challenging than she appreciated. ‘Why are you so dirty? Did you get into a fight? Are you hurt?’
‘Don’t even try changing the fucking subject. You were fighting, injured, and lost control of your magic. I thought I’d lost you.’ Mar strode forward, his arms surrounding her so quickly that Ina gasped, which then turned into a moan as he lifted her off the ground, kissing her with desperate relief. ‘Never do that to me again. Do you hear me? Never. I nearly lost my mind thinking you’d died.’
Ina could feel his heart racing, squashed against his chest as she was. The witch could also feel something else. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what she hoped to feel, but a strange frisson against her skin, and she realised Mar was struggling not to transform. ‘Ina, when you reached out for help, and I wasn’t there, it nearly killed me,’ he said, pressing his forehead to hers before she gently stroked his bearded cheek.
‘Hush now, you big oaf. I’m not so easy to kill. I survived whilst my opponent is ash, floating away on the breeze. You have been fighting too, and you look much worse.’ She said, picking a flake of dry mud from his beard, trying to lighten the mood, but she heard Daro snort.
‘Oh, we weren’t fighting. We were all noble and diplomatic. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that the idiot fell off his horse like a ham actor swooning on stage. If that wasn’t bad enough, he turned into a dragon, causing the horses to bolt and me to land in the mud next to him. Even Woron couldn’t withstand his roar. Whatever you did to him left him flightless, so he spent the night groaning with his scaly ass firmly stuck in the mud. It would have been amusing if muggins here didn’t have to catch the horses. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wife to kiss.’
‘Ina! What in Veles’s name did you do this time?’
‘Why do you always assume I did something? And stop throwing people around; they don’t deserve to be manhandled.’ Mar’s dishevelled appearance finally registered, and it occurred to her that sending him to Alsia might have been more challenging than she appreciated. ‘Why are you so dirty? Did you get into a fight? Are you hurt?’
‘Don’t even try changing the fucking subject. You were fighting, injured, and lost control of your magic. I thought I’d lost you.’ Mar strode forward, his arms surrounding her so quickly that Ina gasped, which then turned into a moan as he lifted her off the ground, kissing her with desperate relief. ‘Never do that to me again. Do you hear me? Never. I nearly lost my mind thinking you’d died.’
Ina could feel his heart racing, squashed against his chest as she was. The witch could also feel something else. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what she hoped to feel, but a strange frisson against her skin, and she realised Mar was struggling not to transform. ‘Ina, when you reached out for help, and I wasn’t there, it nearly killed me,’ he said, pressing his forehead to hers before she gently stroked his bearded cheek.
‘Hush now, you big oaf. I’m not so easy to kill. I survived whilst my opponent is ash, floating away on the breeze. You have been fighting too, and you look much worse.’ She said, picking a flake of dry mud from his beard, trying to lighten the mood, but she heard Daro snort.
‘Oh, we weren’t fighting. We were all noble and diplomatic. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that the idiot fell off his horse like a ham actor swooning on stage. If that wasn’t bad enough, he turned into a dragon, causing the horses to bolt and me to land in the mud next to him. Even Woron couldn’t withstand his roar. Whatever you did to him left him flightless, so he spent the night groaning with his scaly ass firmly stuck in the mud. It would have been amusing if muggins here didn’t have to catch the horses. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wife to kiss.’
Olena Nikitin is our pen name. We are an enthusiastic couple of writers who are fascinated by the fantasy/paranormal romance genre and decided to write a book we would love to read
Behind the Pen name:
Olga - is Polish, armed with a wicked sense of humour and typical Slavic pessimism she is the wicked witch from the East. She has written stories since childhood, initially mostly about her work. As an emergency physician, she always has a story to tell and often not much time to write.
Mark is a typical English gentleman whose charm, refined taste and an impressive collection of books were tempting enough to make Olga leave her homeland. Don't tease him too much; this man has an impressive sword collection and he knows how to use it. He also can fix everything, including Polish syntax in English writing.
See more on our website: www.olenanikitin.uk
Behind the Pen name:
Olga - is Polish, armed with a wicked sense of humour and typical Slavic pessimism she is the wicked witch from the East. She has written stories since childhood, initially mostly about her work. As an emergency physician, she always has a story to tell and often not much time to write.
Mark is a typical English gentleman whose charm, refined taste and an impressive collection of books were tempting enough to make Olga leave her homeland. Don't tease him too much; this man has an impressive sword collection and he knows how to use it. He also can fix everything, including Polish syntax in English writing.
See more on our website: www.olenanikitin.uk
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