Ruin, p.1
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Ruin
Kindred: The Fated
Book Two
Donna Grant®
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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RUIN
© 2023 by DL Grant, LLC
Cover Design © 2023 by Charity Hendry Designs
Formatting © 2023 by Charity Hendry Designs
ISBN 13: 978-1-942017-99-8
Available in ebook.
All rights reserved.
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Coming Soon: REIGN
© 2023 by DL Grant, LLC
Cover Design © 2023 by Charity Hendry Designs
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A Look Back from: EVERKIN
© 2017 by DL Grant, LLC
Cover Design © 2017 by Charity Hendry
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All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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www.DonnaGrant.com
www.MotherofDragonsBooks.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Glimpse of the next Kindred: The Fated Book
Look back at the KINDRED series
Don’t miss these other novels
About the Author
1
Fall
Northern Scotland
An icy north wind cut across Asa’s face, ruffling her pet owl’s pristine white feathers where Frida perched on her arm. From the dock, Asa stared out over the turbulent waters of the sea, but it wasn’t the boats in the harbor or the inky night sky that held her attention. It was the memories.
Of the home she had left behind.
Of friends she hadn’t told about her departure.
Of a younger sister she had left crying in the middle of the night.
It had only been seven years. It wasn’t a great deal of time, yet it felt as if it had been a lifetime. So much had happened. In many ways, Asa barely remembered the girl she had been when she first stepped foot on Scottish soil. She wasn’t the same person. Would anyone from her life before even recognize her?
Frida cooed softly.
Asa looked at her friend and smiled. “Aye, my beauty. Go hunt.”
The small owl flew away in search of food. Asa sighed. She didn’t want to return to Norway, but she had a promise to keep. She should’ve gone back sooner, but the Coven had grown at such a rapid pace that she hadn’t had a chance before now. With the Coven defeated, it was time for Asa to return. Though she didn’t know what might await her there.
Would her sister remember her? Liss had only been ten when she left. Old enough to know what was happening—and to be upset about it. And old enough that she wouldn’t forget Asa. Anything could have happened in those years, though. She had seen it firsthand.
Asa looked over her shoulder. She had made a family here. One the Coven had destroyed. She had barely made it out alive. Yet she hadn’t left Scotland. She couldn’t shake the regret of not being with her friends during the battle. For so long, she had felt as if she were torn in two. Wanting to remain with the family she had found, yet knowing she had to return to Norway.
She was strong enough now to face what she hadn’t been able to before. However, every day she wasted with one excuse or another made going home that much harder. At least she knew that Liss wouldn’t be targeted. Her sister didn’t have magic. That would save her.
Asa hugged her arms around her middle. She had lingered long enough. Tomorrow, she would find a ship bound for Norway. It wouldn’t be difficult to get information about Ivar once she landed. Though she expected him to still be in power. If he wasn’t, then one of his sons would’ve likely taken over as chieftain. They were all cut from the same violent, brutal cloth.
All but Hosvir. He had a kindness his older brothers reviled.
Asa would find Liss and get her sister out quickly. No one need ever know that she had even been there—at least not until she and Liss were long gone. She expected her sister to worry about leaving her homeland for another country, but Asa had everything sorted on that front. All she had to do was find Liss.
A cat’s hiss snapped her head to the side. Asa slowly turned and studied the shadows cast by a bunch of stacked boxes, bundles of nets, and the rocking boats tied to the dock. Water lapped on the shore and against the wooden hulls. Rope creaked as it kept the ships moored. Raucous laughter drifted from a nearby pub. Wind whistled softly, almost as if teasing her that something was out there.
Asa tensed as her gaze continued to scan the area. A small, dark shape darted from between some stacks of crates and ran away. She watched the cat disappear before swinging her gaze back to the boxes. Someone was there.
She lifted her head and spotted Frida flying above her. Even in the dark, she knew when Frida met her gaze. The owl flew to the left and quickly swung around, letting out a whistle.
Asa lowered her gaze to the area Frida had shown her. She didn’t want to use magic out in the open like this. It would bring attention to her, and there were too many superstitious people for her liking. She pulled the knife from its sheath at her waist and widened her stance like Radnar had taught her. Emotion rose in her throat when she thought about the knight and Edra, his wife, who the Coven had killed, along with so many others. But now wasn’t the time to allow that sorrow to take her.
“Show yourself,” Asa demanded.
There was a grunt before a large shape emerged from the shadows. The man leaned heavily on the crates, swaying. Furs were draped over a thick coat. She couldn’t make out the tartan of his kilt, nor could she see his face.
He breathed laboriously as if it took great effort to even stand. She eyed him as he clutched the boxes when he started to slide. Somehow, he righted himself. Just another drunk Highlander. She’d run across enough of them to know she didn’t need magic or weapons. She just had to be quick enough to get away. He stood near the boardwalk, which would make her walking past him difficult. But she had no doubt she could escape. She sheathed her weapon.
“You came.”
She stilled at his words.
He tried to stand upright but began listing to the side. He reached out a hand to right himself again, but his palm slipped, causing his shoulder to bang against the crates. He grunted yet somehow remained on his feet. The pub’s door opened. As the light from inside spread across the area, Asa spotted the green, red, and black tartan of the MacDonalds before the door closed.
“I didna think you’d really come,” the man said in a hoarse whisper, more to himself than her.
“Who are you?”
He shook his head of long, dark hair and dragged in a ragged breath. “There’s no time, lass. You need to run. As far…” He paused and fought to draw breath. “And as fast…as you can.”
“Because you plan to hurt me?”
He grunted when he clutched at the crates to stay upright. “Run,” he ordered.
Asa didn’t move. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t make out what it was. She stared at the man. He seemed to believe his words. She’d thought him drunk, but his words weren’t slurred. And something kept dripping onto the wooden boards.
She looked at the wooden planks of the dock, but she couldn’t make out if it was blood as she now suspected. Then the man’s legs buckled. He hit the dock hard, his head banging against one of the boxes. The way he struggled to breathe confirmed that he was injured. She warily made her way to him. He lay on his back, his face turned toward her. She looked closer and saw his gaze trained on her.
“I didna hold out this long for you to be taken. Doona be daft,” he wheezed. “Run.”
Frida landed on the crate next to her. Asa met the bird’s gaze and asked, “Are there others?”
“Nay,” the man said, thinking she spoke to him.
Frida blinked. “No one.”
Asa squatted next to the man. “I’ve been running for too long.”
“Risked…everything,” he mumbled as he fought to keep his eyes open.
“What’s your name?”
He blinked as if trying to focus on her. “Rory.”
“I need you to get up, Rory,” she told him.
His eyes shut. Asa wasn’t sure he could even hear her anymore. She glanced around before giving him a shake. He grunted. “Do you have a horse?”
But there was no response. She put her fingers under his nose and felt breath, but it was too soft for her liking.
Asa stood and looked into the owl’s eyes. “Frida, watch him.”
She didn’t wait for the owl to respond before making her way to the stables. The horses outside in the paddock lifted their heads when she approached. She stopped in front of each one, looking into their eyes one by one as she asked, “Do any of you belong to Rory?”
The horses went back to wh atever they had been doing before.
Asa went inside the stables and repeated the question, but still she got no response. She walked down the middle of the village, noting the few horses standing about. She stopped at each one, whispering her question. Each time, the reply was nay. She began to wonder if she would have to find another way to get Rory somewhere she could help him.
She didn’t want to bring more attention to herself, so she decided to return to the docks behind the main buildings. And that was when she spotted a horse. Asa lifted her skirts and ran to the gray stallion.
“Are you Rory’s?”
The horse bobbed his head.
Relief surged through Asa. She reached for the reins when a man stepped from around the building.
“Well, well, well. What do we have ‘ere? You stealin’ my horse, lass?” he demanded.
She gazed at the man, noting his shirt pulled tightly over his barrel chest. His beard was so bushy she couldn’t even make out his mouth. “This is my horse.”
“I think no’.” He let out a loud burp. “I saw the man who tied the animal ‘ere. That isna you.”
Asa moved so she could look into the horse’s eyes. “He belongs to a friend who is hurt.”
The stallion snorted, his ears flattening to his head as the man slapped his hand on the animal’s rump.
“Ye’re no’ leavin’ with my horse.”
“It isn’t your horse,” she stated and shifted the stallion, hoping he could kick the man.
There was a flurry of white as Frida flew between them with her talons out. She went for the man’s face, giving Asa time to yank the horse free and hurry away. The man screamed as he shielded his face with his arms. Asa started running when she heard more men rushing out to help their friend.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Frida getting away, and the man on the ground. She and the horse were out of sight before they saw them. She didn’t stop running. Too much time had passed since she’d left Rory. Asa dropped the reins when they reached the docks. There was no way the horse could fit between the crates, and she couldn’t lift Rory. She dropped to her knees beside the Highlander and again put a finger under his nose, feeling the soft brush of his breath. It was even softer than before. She was losing him.
“Rory,” she said, shaking him. “Open your eyes.”
“Run,” he murmured.
She glanced around. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Fool.”
The word was slurred. She felt around his torso, looking for the wound. She couldn’t get past his clothes to find his body, yet when she pulled her hands away, both were covered in blood. She needed to get him somewhere quickly to see to his wounds. It was clear someone had tried to kill him, and for all she knew, they still lurked about.
“If you want me to leave, then you’re going to have to get on your feet.”
One eye slid open a crack. “Can no’.”
“I’m going to help you. I have your horse. I need you up.” She wrapped his arm around her.
Rory gave a half-hearted attempt that brought Asa down atop him. His groan of pain had her moving away. She yanked her arm free of his heavy head and blew out a breath. This would be harder than she thought. She unbuckled his sword to get that out of her way. The last thing she needed was her legs getting tangled in that.
“If you really want to help me, then get up,” she commanded with her mouth near his ear. She couldn’t shout, but he needed to hear everything she said. “On your feet. Now.”
To her shock, he rolled onto his left side. She helped to steady him. It took him several tries before he could get to his hands and knees. She managed to maneuver herself under his right arm while putting her left around him. Rory was a big man. She couldn’t reach even halfway around his back. If he couldn’t stay on his feet, she wouldn’t be able to counter him—not unless she used magic.
“Aye,” she murmured when he got one foot beneath him. “I’ve got you. Use the crate. That’s it.”
Asa smiled when he utilized the wooden box to leverage his weight. Then he was on his feet. He swayed, and it took everything she had to keep them upright.
“We only have a few steps until we get to your horse,” she told him.
His breath wheezed louder. Asa held him tighter, silently willing him to stay erect. The first step barely moved them. The second was more of a shuffle. The third had him tilting again.
Asa let out a soft whistle to get the horse’s attention. He swung his large head to her. “What’s your name?”
“Abhain.”
“Rory.”
“What a beautiful name,” she told the stallion. “I need you to back toward us and then lower to the ground. It’s the only way Rory can get on your back.”
At that moment, one of Rory’s knees gave out. Asa bit back a startled yelp when his full weight fell against her. Luckily, she had braced her legs for just such an event. The only reason they didn’t hit the ground was because Rory leaned the other way. They were still near the crates, and they caught him.
Asa moved Rory’s arm back around her shoulders while she watched Abhain do as she had instructed. His hooves were loud on the dock, but they didn’t drown out the shouts of the men—and one particular voice. They were looking for her and Abhain. Asa had to get them out quickly. The stallion managed to get close, but Asa still had to hold Rory upright to reach Abhain.
“Your horse is here. See, Rory? Abhain is right there. Let’s get you on him so we can get out of here.”
There were no more words from Rory. It seemed to take everything he had to stay upright. Asa gritted her teeth when Rory leaned against her. She had known he would be heavy. Rory took a half step, then another. The seconds ticked by as she slowly helped him reach the stallion, and all the while, she felt warm blood seeping over her hand. After what felt like an eternity, and with sweat running down her face, and her legs trembling with effort, they finally reached the horse.
She endeavored to get out of the way, but Rory’s attempt to brace himself on Abhain failed. Asa tripped on her skirts and the stallion. Then she found herself trapped beneath Rory’s heavy arm. She struggled to get free, only to find that Rory had passed out without getting his leg even halfway over the saddle.
For the next few minutes, Ava fought to free herself and get Rory settled. No matter how many times she tried to rouse him, he wouldn’t wake. And that worried her. Asa grabbed his sword and fastened it to the saddle.
“All right, Abhain,” she said to the horse as she stood near his head. “Get to your feet. Carefully.”
Frida called out as she circled high above. Asa didn’t need the owl to tell her the men were headed her way. She could hear the loud group as they checked every building for her. Asa’s heart thudded in her chest. Her muscles ached. She wanted to rest and drink her fill of water, but all of that would have to wait.
As the horse got to his feet, Asa had to dash to Abhain’s left side when Rory began to slide off. She used just enough magic to keep him in place. Rory was slumped over Abhain’s neck, his arms dangling on either side of the horse. Then, finally, the stallion gained his feet. She took the reins, wrapped them around one hand, and waited until she knew the men were out of sight before she, Frida, Abhain, and Rory melted into the night.
2
Asa glanced at Rory often. He hadn’t woken, and thankfully, her magic kept him in place as she alternated between walking and jogging, tugging the horse along. They were out in the open. It would be easy for those looking for her to spot them. Frida lingered in the village to watch the men. The farther Asa got from the water, the safer she felt.
Then she heard Frida. She looked up to find the owl swooping near her before turning around and flying back the way she had come. The men were coming.
