Taming the Temptress (Ebook)

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Chapter 1

The invitation to the Witches’ Ball appeared on the side of Nant’s well, the edges curled from the dampness in the sea air. Her first instinct was to rip it to shreds, but there was also a message from her father, who, being a god, had to be obeyed or one suffered the consequences.
Nant sighed and heaved herself up to sit on the paved top of the well. She’d had a busy night tending to her underground streams and was in no mood to tolerate her father’s intrusion in her private affairs. His message was spelled out in smooth sea glass beside the invitation.
NANTO-SVELTA YOU WILL ATTEND THIS BALL.
With an impatient hand, Nant swept her fingers through the glass, scattering the pebbles into vegetation made sparse by the coastal weather. Within seconds, the pebbles leapt back into place beside the invitation, and there was a flash of lightning that left a trace of sulphur in the air. It appeared that Endellion was serious. She had to attend the blasted ball, even if she only stayed for a few moments. She’d seen what he could do to his disobedient children, and she had no wish to be punished.
She smoothed out the parchment to display the cream-colored invitation written in slightly blurred black ink.
You are hereby invited to attend a Witches’ Ball on October 31st at Nightshade Manor, Bocka Morrow, Cornwall.
Please RSVP to your hosts the Earl and Countess of Wharton.
Nant, had of course, heard whispers about the ball from her sister and the other deities and oddities who inhabited the coastal village of Bocka Morrow. From what her sister Malakia had told her, the earl and countess were attempting to persuade the notoriously insular magical community to go forth and multiply—or at least for the younger generation to make some attempt to find mates.
She hadn’t expected an invitation, because she considered herself more of a minor local deity. She could not do magic spells like a witch, and while she drew power from her spring and waterways, she rarely chose to use it, preferring a quieter existence where she cared for her waterways, answered the prayers of those who left her offerings, and occasionally made sure that two lovers found their way to each other.
The last time she’d displayed her power was when her sister Malakia’s suitor had carelessly dropped a coin down her well that had hit her on the head. He hadn’t been impressed by her annoyance until she’d provoked a veritable storm over him that shocked him to his core. She often reminded Malakia that if she hadn’t made Hezekiah aware of the magic around him then he wouldn’t have come to accept that Mally was the goddess of the bay and sometimes a mermaid.
“Drat.” Nant frowned. There was that word again. Magic. “I suppose I’ll have to go.”