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Master of Fate Angela Knight
Master of Fate

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Dear Reader – The next book in the Mageverse series will be out May 29, 2019! It’s called Master of Fate, and I’m excited about it.

Master of Fate (Merlin's Legacy 3)
by Angela Knight
Sale Price: $4.24
Keeping Mad Alys sane has never been harder – and neither has loving her.
Buy it today @ CP
Pre-Order Now:
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Now to start work on the next novella in the series, tentatively titled Master of Truth. Look for it in late summer or early fall.

Here’s a sneak peek of Master of Fate.

Keeping Mad Alys sane has never been harder -- and neither has loving her.

Davon Fredericks is on a self-appointed mission to keep Mad Alys sane. And that job’s never been harder.

Alys Hawkwood is the most powerful seer among the witches of the Magekind. She’s seen a lot of horrors in her visions, but this is the worst: the destruction of the Magekind. The only way to prevent the deaths of everyone she cares about is to allow their worst enemy to kidnap her. Her only hope of rescue is her vampire partner, Davon -- the man she loves -- and the one she can never have.

To carry out her plan and save them all, Davon must pull off the impossible: take on a dragon and countless alien enemies alone. But his most deadly opponent is Alys herself…
     orc in battle Twelve years ago, if someone had told Davon he’d be partners with an Elizabethan, he’d have put that idiot on a psych hold. He'd considered himself a thoroughly rational man, a believer in science and logic. He'd had to be. He was a twenty-first century African American trauma surgeon in Chicago, a city where it wasn't easy to be either black or a doctor. He hadn't had time for woo-woo crap.

      Until a witch offered him the chance to become a vampire and save humanity. Now here he was, immortal partner to another beautiful witch.

      And Alys was beautiful.

      Her skin was a couple of shades lighter than his own deep bronze, since she was the daughter of an African vampire father and a Caucasian witch. Her lean, muscled body was a product of centuries of fighting for the survival of humanity -- and a tendency to forget to eat unless Davon nagged her.

      A riot of gleaming midnight curls sprang from her elegant head, framing a delicate, angular face. Huge eyes of a deep cinnamon brown balanced the swoop of her wide nose and the lush curve of her mouth. Soft, vulnerable lips parted as she laughed at something on her screen, showing the white edges of her teeth.

      God, Davon hungered for that mouth. He’d wanted to kiss her the first time he met her, and he still wanted it ten years later. And he wanted to taste a lot more than her mouth, starting with the smooth length of those golden thighs, revealed by a tiny pair of yellow shorts. A matching silk tank bloused over her pretty breasts, drawing his attention to the hard nipples tenting the thin fabric.

      Davon’s fangs gave another throbbing pulse as his cock hardened. Yeah, no.

      Mostly to keep his mind off his dick, he asked, “Any word on what Bres is up to?” Nothing could kill an erotic mood quite like a magic-using psychotic who wanted all humans dead.

      Alys looked up, intelligence burning like flame in cinnamon eyes. “The Fomorians have gone quiet. I have a feeling he’s up to som…” Her voice trailed off.

      What looked like a wave of ink flooded Alys’s sclera and irises, drowning her eyes in black. Points of light burst against the darkness, stars igniting in the eternal night. Oh, hell. She was having a vision.

      Though his heart had begun to pound, Davon didn’t move, didn’t do anything to interrupt. Alys was the most powerful seer among the Magekind’s witches. They all got flashes of the future, but no one else saw as clearly. More importantly, she could often predict how to avoid a horrific future, a talent not even Morgana Le Fay had.

      So no, you didn’t interrupt one of Alys’s visions.

      Not that what she learned was always welcome. Sometimes preventing one ugly future would trigger something even worse, so they couldn’t do a damn thing.

      Which didn’t do a lot for her mental state. There was a reason they called her Mad Alys. Davon’s mission in life was making sure that shitty nickname didn’t become a reality.

      He watched her expression, trying to determine whether this one was going to be another one of those situations. At least there were no flickers of terror and despair on her face, though the tightening line of her jaw suggested growing anger.

      A kid must be involved in this. Nothing pissed Alys off like some asshole hurting a child. Often the asshole in question ended up very, very dead by the time she and Davon finished teaching him the error of his ways.

      The blackness drained from Alys’s eyes as if someone had pulled a stopper in her skull, revealing her normal irises. She blinked at him, her gaze a little confused.

      “Alys?” he asked.

      The vague air vanished as her eyes snapped into focus. “We’ve got a mission.” Surging off the couch as if she’d been launched from a catapult, the Maja flung her arms wide.

      Magic flooded the room in response to her will, rolling over Davon’s body. The foaming wave of sparks condensed into the new suit of armor she’d conjured last week. Its gleaming chest plate, groin protector, gauntlets and boots were intricately engraved with protective spells. Fine scale mail, as light and flexible as his own skin, covered everything the plate didn’t. The suit’s helm looked more futuristic than medieval, with a transparent faceplate designed to allow maximum peripheral vision.

      Davon thoroughly approved. It was much lighter than the old armor, easier to move in, more resistant to magical blasts. Unlike the previous kit, nothing would be able to penetrate it with fang, claw or blade. Not without a hell of a lot of work, anyway.

      A familiar weight hung against his back. He turned his head to see the hilt of his sword protruding over his left shoulder, the blade sheathed in a diagonal scabbard.

      When Davon glanced back, armor had replaced Alys’s shorts and shirt, covering her lean, elegant body in gold plate and scale mail.

      She drew her longsword from its back scabbard and tossed it onto the couch with a soft thump. “I’m going to need something with a little bit more buzz for this job.” She raised both hands, and light blazed between her palms, solidifying into a weapon.

      The two-handed great sword shone with an unearthly blue light, magic spiraling in hair-thin lightning forks from pommel to point and back again. The blade smoked as she held it, filling the air with the smell of ozone.

      “Oh, shit!” Davon took an instinctive step back. “Reaver? We need Reaver for this?”

      She shrugged. “It’s going to get a little dicey.”

      “How dicey? What’s going on?”

      “King Llyr’s kid has been snatched by his own bodyguard. The traitor’s going to hand the boy over to the Fomorians, who are meeting him for the handoff.”

      “Fucking Bres.” She’d been right about the enemy king being up to something.

      “Exactly. Your job is to grab Prince Dearg. I’ll be the big, loud distraction with a side order of flaming death.”

Master of Fate will be out May 29, 2019 from Changeling Press | Amazon

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MASTER OF SMOKE hit the NYT list at #13
MASTER OF FIRE hit the NYT list at #18.
WARRIOR hit the printed NYT list at #20.
MASTER OF DRAGONS (6/07) hit the NYT extended list at #21
MASTER OF SWORDS (10/06) hit the NYT extended list at #28
MASTER OF WOLVES (4/06) hit #22 on New York Times extended list



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