Storms and Embers
by C.D. Britt
(The Reign of Goddesses, #3)
Publication date: November 1, 2022
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
Summary
Archon of Zephyr.
Queen of the Goddesses.
A Broken Woman.
Hera has reigned over Olympus and humanity for millennia. Seen as cold, sarcastic, and callous, she uses this to her advantage, keeping everyone, including her sisters, at a distance. It’s a lonely life, but it worked, until the Titans decided that breaking her father out of Tartarus was a good idea. A move that put her and her sisters against the Titans in a battle for their thrones upon Olympus.
Dr. Viktor Alden understands being alone. As a man who has spent his immortal life as a nomad, living with a curse that has kept him from allowing anyone to really know him, he is fascinated by the enigmatic woman who quite literally runs the world. Too bad they have a battle they may not win, or even live through, for him to learn the intricacies that make up the Queen of the Goddesses.
Now, two people who have spent their entire lives distrusting the world must learn to trust each other if they want to survive the upcoming war.
Storms and Embers is the final book in the Reign of Goddesses series. To truly enjoy this book, it is highly recommended you read the other books in the series first.
TW: violence, cursing, adult situations.
Excerpts
Excerpt #1
A horrible scream rent the air, stilling Hera in the middle of the dirt pathway. Before she could move forward, another piercing scream followed on the heels of the first. This time, she knew the voice as it begged their father to stop.
Ignoring her instincts to run in the opposite direction, to find her mother, she ran to the great tree that grew next to her home. She clambered up the tree, her skin scraping on the bark as her limbs climbed from memory.
When she reached the branch that overlooked the window near the hearth, she looked into the house, squinting in the dim light of morning. As she leaned forward, she lost her grip on the branch and barely caught herself. Steadying her hold, Hera held her breath and watched for movement.
She could see a hand, blood streaming from it, grapple with the edge of the window. Black hair and a tear-streaked face entered her view as her sister pulled herself up.
Persephone.
Catching a glimpse of her in the tree, Persephone found her gaze and mouthed, “Run.”
Hera’s heart raced. Run? Run where? To whom? How could she run when something was so, so wrong?
Her sister, her serious and beautiful sister, slumped forward, unconscious. The slight movement of her hair against her mouth from her shallow breaths was the only indication that she was still alive at all.
The fear that crowded her mind was intense, and Hera began to tremble, nearly losing her grip again. All she could see was Persephone not moving and covered in blood. Suddenly, a thump and several screams rang in her ears. Screams she knew would haunt all her days. High screams. Young screams. And deep, wordless shouts of a man’s rage.
It was the silence that followed that punched her into action.
Turning, she scrambled down the tree and ran to the wheat fields where she had left her mother chatting. Her feet pounded the earth as she ran the fastest she’d ever moved, tripping over vines in her haste. She ignored the pain of the rocks digging into her flesh, desperate to get to her mother.
Before she could reach Mother at the end of the path, a large figure emerged from the line of trees ahead of her. A chill ran up Hera’s spine, and she dug her heels into the dirt, pivoting to hide behind a fallen log as she watched her father step out into the road. Her thoughts raced— how had he gotten to the road before her?
Father raised his hand, revealing in his grip a knife dripping with blood. She knew at that moment her sisters were dead.
He rotated slowly, his eyes scanning the tree line.
“Hera, Hera, Hera,” he called out in a sing-song voice. “I saw you running, dearest. I know you are here. Come on out and talk to me.”
Her stomach dropped through to the earth below at his bold lie. She knew her father did not want to talk.
Crouching, she quietly moved to the end of the log, keeping herself as covered as possible by the bracken around her, and the road in sight. Father was on one end and her mother, farther down in the opposite direction. Could Mother see him yet? Would she look over and see Father in this mad state?
Hera knew she was taking a risk getting her mother’s attention, but she had to do something before Father found her.
She backed deeper into the woods, careful not to step on fallen leaves and twigs. Father paced the road, knife still in hand. If she could get closer to her mother…
Snap.
Dread struck her chest as her father whirled toward the sound with stunning speed, and Hera’s heart raced. She’d been able to get closer to her mother by creeping through the undergrowth, but had she gotten close enough?
It would have to do. As her father started in her direction, Hera burst out into the road.
“Mother!” she cried out, straightening and preparing to run to her. Her mother turned abruptly, her smile faltering as she caught sight of the murderous presence behind Hera.
In a split second, her mother disappeared, only to reappear beside her. Stunned, Hera faltered and blinked at the empty space where her mother had been as she pushed Hera behind her. She fell to her hands and knees as her mother widened her stance, standing like a wall between Hera and her father.
Her mind spun. Her mother’s speed. Her father’s rampage. The sight of her sister’s bloody hand and the sound of their screams. Hera was confused by all of it.
“You swore they were human,” he growled.
Human? Of course, they were human. What else could they be? Was there something about her parents that she and her sisters had not known?
Excerpt #2
Stepping into the domed part of the building, he took in the rows of curved benches lined up before a raised platform, where a long table overlooked the would-be crowd. For a moment, he was distracted from his ordeal by the gravitas of the chambers. He’d seen much of human civilization, and now he stood in a place that held such importance to the much smaller version of the world.
But for all the power he felt in the air, every bit of it gravitated toward one person.
Hera, the Archon and Queen of the Goddesses, stood in the middle of the long table. It’d been so long since he’d glimpsed her in the flesh, not on a screen or a paper. Her blonde hair fell in curls around her oval face and grazed her shoulders, and her stormy gray eyes pierced him with the intensity of a bird of prey spotting its next meal. She was gorgeous; he would never deny that.
When they approached the center of the chambers, West gave him a short nod, and left his side to join Amphitrite, who stood next to the first row of benches with her arms folded
On the opposite side of the aisle was her other sister, Persephone, Ruler of the Underworld. A male with dark blonde hair stood next to her. His green eyes were not hostile, but watchful, much like the guards out front. Viktor felt the man’s power thrumming around him, searching and seeking. If he remembered correctly, this was Devon, West’s closest friend and Demeter’s scion.
When he looked at everyone, they all stared at him pensively, as if struggling to reconcile him with Hestia’s power—or perhaps the memory of Hestia herself, for the Goddesses. Questions were obvious in their eyes, but the answers were unattainable for now, and he was unsure how they would react when he couldn’t give them what they wanted.
The room remained quiet for so long that when Hera finally spoke, he caught West jumping a bit in his seat from his periphery.
“Dr. Viktor Alden, according to Amphitrite, you hold the power of our sister, Hestia. Is this correct?”
Words could trigger the curse, and he was going to play it as safe as he could. So, he silently extended his hand and ignited a flame in his open palm.
A small smile crept along the Archon’s face.
It was both alluring and dangerous.
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Read more“You are the only one strong enough to do this, and so you will, but not without me. Never again.”
