Sisters of the Coven (Daughters of the Warlock 1)

“That would be... awesome.” I could barely contain the grin that split my face.

This was all I ever wanted! To be part of this amazing community of Witches and Warlocks. To travel, to cast spells, to learn magic that my mother wouldn’t or couldn’t teach me. “When do we start?”

“Well, I will speak to the judges and testing panel as soon as you leave today. Usually it can take weeks, or even longer to organise, but I will push for you to be tested much sooner rather than later. You must be anxious to start.”

There was a sudden knock at the door and Matlock turned his head to the sound.

“Come in.”

The door opened and a man stepped into the room whom I’d never seen before, yet my heart pounded at the sight of him. He wore tight, fitted black slacks and a dark wool jumper that clung to his muscles like a second skin. Something about him was just... intense. I didn’t know any other way to describe him.

“Tavlor.” Matlock said, turning to greet the man in flowing robes who walked towards him.

“Sir, the Council have sent me to get you. There is an urgent matter of which you must attend immediately.”

“Of course.”

I stood up as Matlock did, and walked toward on unsteady legs.

My belly tightened as the man turned towards me and pierced me with eyes the colour of molten silver.

“What are you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He couldn’t possibly be a simple Warlock. He made my heart pound, my stomach clench and my muscles tremble. He was dangerous... he was gorgeous... he was...

“I am Tavlor. I am the captain of the guard.” He said it as though it was obvious, that I should know this already.

“The... Council Guard?” I repeated, assuming that was what he meant but needing to make sure. I couldn’t really assume anything around here.

My eyes dropped to my floor. I wanted to look at him, I wanted to stare. I thought the portal guards were gorgeous, and maybe they were in a traditional sort of

way, but Tavlor was different. He had steely eyes, a hard jaw. Tall, with dark hair, broad shoulders, and muscles on his lean form, he exuded power but also restraint. He wasn’t someone who would willingly harm someone else. I didn’t know how I knew that, but that was the impression I got from him.

He cocked his head to the side for a moment and assessed me, his gaze running over me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. My face heated under such an intense gaze. I wished I had kept my heels on, damn the pain. Now, I must have looked ridiculous in fluffy pink slippers paired with tight jeans and a tank top.

Then again, I didn’t think I was going to run into someone like him here.

Heat flooded my face and I glanced away again, trying to calm my beating heart.

“You don’t know our ways,” he stated.

It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway. “No. I’m Ava. I was brought up in a secluded realm by my mother. I’ve never been here before, but came seeking help.”

I clenched my teeth. I was babbling again. I wished there was a spell to keep me from doing that in front of people. I cleared my throat and fiddled with the belt loops on my jeans.

“I’ve suggested to Ava that she be tested by the judges, and placed into a position that suits her, as soon as possible,” Matlock said. There was no argument in his tone.

Tavlor nodded slowly, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost completely black. “You have much power.” His gaze flickered over me once again. It almost seemed as though he couldn’t believe such power radiated from little old me.

I pushed out my intuition. It was a trick my mother taught me. Reading people came naturally to me, but the way my mother taught me to use my instincts mixed with reading ability gave me insights to people I never met before. It was why I knew there was something off with Mallory – more than just her bigotry. I came back with a strange, squirmy feeling. “So, do you. Why are you blocking me?”

His eyes opened slightly for a moment, and then the look of surprise was gone. “I am part Fae, part Warlock.”

“I’m sorry... I don’t know what that means.”

His mouth twisted at the corners. “That means... to many people I am a cross breed, a hybrid, a mongrel.”

“Tavlor.” Matlock admonished, but he didn’t try to set the record straight.