JennaKay Francis - The Coven

Guardians of Glede: Next Generation Book 3:

The Coven

http://www.writers-exchange.com

Guardians of Glede: Next Generation Book 3: The Coven

Copyright 2007, 2015 JennaKay Francis

Writers Exchange E-Publishing

PO Box 372

ATHERTON QLD 4883

Cover Art by: Laura Shinn and Jatin

Published by Writers Exchange E-Publishing

http://www.writers-exchange.com

ISBN 9781921314599

Second Edition

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

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Other Books In The Series:

Beginnings Book 1: The Triskelion

Beginnings Book 2: Dark Prince

Beginnings Book 3: Sorcerer's Pool

Beginnings Book 4: Dragons of Mere Odain

Beginnings Book 5: DragonMaster

Beginnings Book 6: For the Love of Dragons

Beginnings Series Collection: Books 1 - 6 in one volume

Next Generation Book 1: Caves of Challenge

Next Generation Book 2: Blood Sacrifice

Next Generation Book 3: The Coven

Next Generation Book 4: Fire Stone

Next Generation Book 5: The Fane Queen

Next Generation Book 6: Battle for Argathia

Reckonings Book 1: Dukker's Revenge

"F ather?"

Crown Prince Treyas Merripen looked up from his paperwork with a smile. He beckoned the young elf into the room as he rose from behind his desk.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" the brown-skinned young man asked.

"Pepin, you are never an interruption," Treyas replied and embraced him warmly. "In fact, I'm glad you're here. I was finalizing our travel plans to Dalziel and I realized I never got your supply request. If you want to,"

"Papay," Pepin interrupted softly, "I'm not going."

Treyas looked at him in surprise and puzzlement. "What do you mean? Is something wrong? Is someone ill?"

"No, no. Everyone is fine," Pepin assured him.

"Then..." Treyas shrugged.

"It's not my place to go, Papay," Pepin said.

"Of course it is. You're in line to the throne."

"That's just the point," Pepin said with a sigh of exasperation. "I'm not. Not really."

Treyas' face grew firm. "Pepin, you're my son."

"Yes, by choice not by chance." Pepin took hold of his arm, his dark eyes searching Treyas' face. "You've been my father since I was seven years old. There's not a day that goes by that I don't thank you with all of my heart for adopting me. But you adopted me, Papay, not the elfin empire. I should not be in line to the throne. That right belongs to Vantann. He is your first-born son, not me."

Treyas stared at him in shock, then annoyance settled in his mis-matched blue and green eyes. "Who's been talking to you?"

"No one." Pepin released Treyas' arm and walked over to look out the tall, mullioned window. He could feel Treyas' gaze burning into his back.

"Then where did you come up with this idea?" Treyas asked. "Aelfdene and the elves accepted you as my son fifteen years ago, Pepin. They expect you to follow me. I expect you to follow me. What's happened that's changed that?"

Pepin hesitated, toying idly with the drapery pull. "Father, I have a legacy," he finally said. "A role to fill. But it's not in Aelfdene. You know that."

"I know that you're an honorary Prince of Mere Odain," Treyas said tightly, "and that you still oversee the DragonRiders there, but I was under the assumption that Faolan had filled the role you speak of."

Pepin closed his eyes, the chill in his father's voice eating at his heart. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and turned to face Treyas. "I've taken the position back, Father," he said quietly. "I am now officially the DragonMaster of Mere Odain."

Treyas stared at him, stunned. "When?"

"Six months ago," Pepin replied. "On my twenty-third birthday."

"Six...why didn't you tell me?" Treyas exploded. "Was it supposed to be some sort of secret? Was I supposed to find out the day you left home? Gods, Pepin! I'm your father! Does being twenty-three relieve you of common courtesy? I should have been told, Pepin! No! Dammit! I should have been asked!" He jerked toward the door as a soft knock sounded. "What is it?" he snapped.

Druce Sinclair, Treyas' squire and SoulMate, stepped into the room, his dark eyes darting from Treyas to Pepin and back. "You wanted to know when Elek had arrived," he said. "He's downstairs with the children."

"Where, Druce?" Treyas demanded hotly. "Downstairs is a bit vague."

"In the kitchen," Druce answered slowly, then added, "He's sitting in the chair closest to the fireplace and has had three cookies and a half a glass of milk."

Treyas glared at him. "Don't patronize me," he seethed, then glanced at Pepin. "We're not through with this discussion, Pepin. Until we are, I forbid you to return to Mere Odain!" He strode from the room, angrily pushing past Druce.

Druce watched him storm down the circular stairway, then turned to Pepin. "What was that all about?"

Pepin shook his head and flung himself into a chair. "Nothing!"

"That was nothing? Come on, Pepin, what's going on? You and Treyas never fight."

Pepin rubbed wearily at his face, then looked up at Druce. "I've officially assumed my title as DragonMaster."

Druce's eyes went wide. "I see. When did this happen?"

"Six months ago. I know I should have told him then. I just couldn't. Half the house was sick with poujo, and Mamay and Papay,"

"You haven't told your mother?" Druce interrupted, aghast.

"Not yet," Pepin mumbled, picking at the green brocade on the chair arm.

"Coals, Pepin, and you think Treyas took it hard."

Pepin slouched further into the overstuffed chair. "I know, I know, but at least Mamay will understand." He surged to his feet to pace. "Gods, Druce! What is it with Papay and Mere Odain? Why does he go wild every time I mention it? You'd think he'd understand. I'm half Merian, my father was the DragonMaster. I'm his only son. It's my legacy, it's part of who I am. I can no more ignore that, than he can ignore his naiad half. Why does he make this so painful for me?"

Druce winced. "Because it's so painful for him." He touched Pepin's arm lightly, stopping his pacing. "He's been fighting against Mere Odain's pull on you for over fifteen years, Pepin. That's a long time. A long time to be waging a personal war only to find out he lost it six months ago."

Pepin regarded him with a frown. "I really messed this up, didn't I?" He sagged back into the chair.

"Well, waiting to spring it on him the night before you're supposed to leave on a diplomatic visit probably wasn't the wisest course of action," Druce admitted, sitting in the chair next to him. "Why didn't you just wait until you got back?"