The Courting of Bristol Keats (The Courting of Bristol Keats, #1)

by Mary E. Pearson

It was impossible to move forward when part of you was trapped in the past.

Innate magic—the kind you are born with. Learned magic that must be practiced. Magic that is gifted, mostly in the form of amulets. Magic that is unanchored—wild, unpredictable, but, luckily, rare. Dark magic that feeds on the user, the most dangerous kind to practice.

“They were in love, Tyghan,” Bristol said more softly. “They were young, scared, and in love.”

“I know what I saw! He loved my mother, and he loved her deeply!”

Tyghan shook, fury blinding him. “You’re telling me he threw away a lifetime of duty for a toss in a bed? He knew her for what? Three weeks? It wasn’t love! No one falls in love that fast! She was a good fuck! That’s all!” Bristol stared at him, her mouth open, breathless.

It was almost midnight—seven hours since she went in. Cully put his ear to the door again. “She’s still singing,” he whispered. “Can you hear the words?” Eris asked. “No, but it seems to be the same short tune over and over again.”