The Dark Queens, Tome 4: The Magic Queen

Prologue

Aphrodite and Calypso

Stepping outside the veil that separated Olympus from Kingdom, the two goddesses—one of Love and one of Water—smiled at one another.

After years, eons really, of setting the pieces into play for their love games and reaching between the very stars to find just the perfect mates, they were down to the final player on their board.

Aphrodite had wanted to limit the couples to only five. But Caly had felt deeply that there was beauty, symmetry, and favor in even numbers, so they’d rolled the die and landed on Baba Yaga’s name. Finding a mate for a witch like her would be next to impossible for anyone. Baba was crass, willful, and just plain evil when the mood struck her.

She’d need an opposite in just about every way.

Thankfully, they’d landed on one years ago, during the Passionate Queen’s search for her own mate: a man with feathers and the temperament of a saint—Icharus of Madrigar.

With his blond hair, pale blue eyes, square jaw, and smattering of freckles, he was exactly Baba’s type. Caly had been shocked to learn the old crone even had a type. Up until now, she’d have assumed that, so long as the meat was succulent and the flesh firm, Baba wouldn’t have been all that picky.

But Dite knew a thing or twenty about love and had assured Caly that Ich was exactly to the witch’s fancy.

“Shall we then?” Dite asked with a sparkle in her azure eyes, gesturing with her arm for Calypso to precede her and do the honors.

Gathering the men had been a simple enough task. They’d simply gone up to their homes, knocked on the doors, elucidated why men were needed for the games, and except for two, they’d all been kidnapped and forced to join in the revelry.

Men were such idiots. Really. Why fight fate? Caly always said. One would think the promise of true soul mates would be enough to get them to fervently agree to come along for the ride.

Nodding her thanks, Caly swept past, practically gliding up the wooden steps of Ich’s modest one-room cabin, and knocked on the door. The two women squealed in excitement when they heard heavy footfalls inside.

Rubbing her hands together, Calypso had the speech on the tip of her tongue when the door was flung open, and out popped a kidlet.

Startled by the sight of the towheaded child, Caly took a hesitant step back, wondering if, perhaps, she’d gotten the wrong address. Something about the boy felt eerily familiar. Pretty blue eyes. Dusting of freckles on his nose. She peeked over his shoulder, noting a fine pair of bronze wings tucked down.

Hm. This could be bad. Aphrodite must have thought the same thing because she shook her head slowly.