Guardians of Erin Series YA Fantasy, Paranormal by Judith Sterling ➱ Series Promotion Tour with Giveaway

  

 

The Spear Alight

The Guardians of Erin Book Four

by Judith Sterling

Genre: YA Fantasy, Paranormal 

Ashling Donoghue has almost lost hope of finding her missing parents. As her faith wanes, her love for two men waxes, rending her heart and causing friction in the Breasal household. The time has come to make a choice, to create a future untarnished by doubt. But how can she embrace the light when lured by the soft seduction of shadow? 

At last, her brother Conall channels the Spear of Illumination. He's a natural shapeshifter, and he sees through illusions in both the material world and the Otherworld…not a moment too soon. An ancient evil has surfaced, and it threatens all worlds.

Only the Donoghues can save Ireland. They must face their greatest fears and act as one to fulfill their destinies as guardians of Erin.

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The Sword Unsheathed

Guardians of Erin, Book Three

Ashling Donoghue is no closer to finding her parents than she was the night they disappeared. But hope returns as her brother Kian channels the Sword of Light, revealing past-life secrets and truths long suppressed.

The more she learns, the greater she fears the darkness that drowns the Netherworld also drives her. Is Aengus her true love, or is it Lorcan? Does her future wait in shadow or the light?

One point is clear: the threads of her past-self are woven inextricably into the tapestry of her soul. An impossible choice looms before her, and all the while, evil is poised to strike.

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The Stone Awakened

Guardians of Erin, Book Two

Since moving to Ireland, Ashling Donoghue has tackled one challenge after another. Now the mystery of her parents' disappearance seems unsolvable. Are they dead or only missing? No one—not even the godlike Breasals—has a clue. Hope and fear war inside her, but she's determined to find answers and stay strong for her siblings. Even as she hones newfound powers, her banshee-in-training sister Deirdre needs her support.

Ashling could use a little help herself. She's struggling to navigate her first romance, and while Aengus Breasal stirs her body, mind, and soul, his nemesis Lorcan does too. Both men harbor secrets about her past life as Caer. One has ties to Aoife, the scheming wind demon whose influence is on the rise.

As the Stone of Destiny awakens, so does the conflict within.

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The Cauldron Stirred

Guardians of Erin, Book One

Ashling Donoghue never dreamed moving to Ireland would rock her perception of reality and plunge her into a mystery that brings legend to life.

At seventeen, she’s never had a boyfriend, but she feels an immediate connection to Aengus Breasal, the son of the wealthy Irishman who’s invited her family to stay at his Killarney estate. For the first time in her life, a guy she likes seems attracted to her.

But Aengus is secretive, with good reason. He and his family are the Tuatha Dé Danann, ageless, mythical guardians adept at shifting between this reality and the magical dimension known as the Otherworld. Evil forces from that world threaten the Breasals, the Donoghues, and all of Ireland. Ashling must open her heart, face her fears, and embrace a destiny greater than she could ever have imagined.

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The Cauldron Stirred

Excerpt #1

With a sigh, I moved to the nearest window and gazed at the full moon. The glowing orb stared back at me and lit the grounds below in soft, seductive light. Lulled into motion by the changeful breeze, the dark trees of the surrounding forest swayed back and forth. The wind whistled and sighed along the centuries-old window panes and urged a throng of clouds across the midnight sky.

There was movement on the lawn. Aengus stood midway between the fairy mound and the castle. He faced the ruins, but with a sudden jerk of his head, he looked right and watched the forest.

He disappeared. Literally. He vanished into thin air.

I blinked and stared hard at the empty lawn. “That’s it!”

Heedless that I wore only satin pajamas, I shoved my feet into pre-tied tennis shoes and slipped out the door. I tiptoed the length of the hall, then raced down the stairs and out of the house.

The night air was deliciously cool. Moonlight and darkness held equal sway over the backyard thanks to the shifting clouds. I dashed across the lawn and halted in the exact spot where Aengus had stood. Panting, I looked around, willing some kind of clue to materialize.

The ruins in front of me darkened as large, heavy clouds swallowed the moon whole. The wind tugged at my long, loose hair and pajamas. Tiny raindrops spattered on my nose and cheeks. I turned my palms to the sky, and cold rain pelted them.

“Great.” Intending to return to the house, I swiveled around.

I gasped. My right hand flew to my chest. “Aengus?!”

The man himself stood an arm’s length in front of me. “Why are you here?”

“You scared the crap out of me!”

“Whisht!”

“What?”

“Shush!”

Pop!

The strident sound came from the ruins. I whirled around and stared at the dark keep.

Aengus grabbed me from behind. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. I reveled in the feel of his taut body, of his warm flesh against mine.

Suddenly, everything changed. The rain stopped. The wind died. The entire landscape was bathed in the soft hue of twilight. Breasal Castle looked brand spanking new, just as it had during the bizarre dream in which I brought Aengus to the cottage. But this time, I knew I was awake.

Dumbfounded, I gawked at the medieval magnificence before me. I had no idea what had happened and no desire to pull away from his embrace.

His lips brushed my right ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “This way.”

His right arm released me, and his left slid down to my waist. Maintaining body contact the entire time, he steered me toward the stand of oaks on our right.

Once sheltered by the trees, he turned us around so we faced the castle.

“Are we hiding?” I whispered.

“We are.”

“Why? And what just happened?”

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

Until that moment, I’d forgotten I wore pajamas. Now I was acutely aware of it. Satin was pleasing to the touch, but something told me my attire had nothing to do with his grip on me.

I looked up at him. “Not that I mind, but why are you holding me so close?”

His hand tightened on my waist. “It’s necessary.”

“I don’t suppose you can explain that, either.”

With his gaze locked on the castle, he shook his head. He pressed his right forefinger against his mouth in a silencing gesture. Then he pointed up at the keep.

High on the battlements, the black-haired woman from my dream—and from Branna’s painting—paced back and forth. Her hair whipped about her pale face and slender frame.

She paused beside a gap in the crenelated wall and glared down at the fairy mound. Her colorless lips curled into a sneer. Then her human form morphed into a dark shadow, which fragmented into what seemed a million black particles. They swarmed into the air and shot across the twilit sky, disappearing into the distance.

I took a deep breath. “So she’s real.”

He nodded. “She’s real, to be sure. Come.” With his arm still hooked around me, he led me out of the woods and toward the fairy mound.

2

The Stone Awakened

High atop the farmhouse, we had a good view of the surrounding area. A throng of undulating shadows encircled the house at a distance of maybe 100 yards. As they slithered closer, distinguishing features emerged.

Dark clothing. Pale skin. Stringy hair the color of pitch. Piercing eyes and glossy, feather wings.

Deirdre gasped. “Holy hell! Who are they?”

Brow furrowed, Hugh crossed his arms. “The dark sidhe.”

There were hundreds of them! Slowly, they encroached on the farmhouse like a black ring of dread.

“Sidhe,” Deirdre repeated. “Like fairies?”

“Fallen ones.” I grabbed Aengus’s hand. “I wish I didn’t know about the poison darts.”

Her head whipped in my direction. “Poison darts?!”

“Never fear.” Robin put a hand on her back. “I’ll protect you.”

Brigit exchanged a meaningful look with Hugh. “Rather, my father will.”

Unblinking, The Dagda gave a nod and eyed the prowlers. “Almost here. Just a bit closer.”

With a frown, she threw her red hair over her shoulder. “Do you think Aoife sent them?”

“I’d bet my life on it.” Slowly, he unfolded his arms.

“But why? To infect the whole house? To distract us?”

He stood preternaturally still; only his lips moved. “Perhaps as a test.”

“Of what?”

“What indeed? I’ve never seen so many amassed in the Middleworld…except during the Wild Hunt.”

Aengus regarded his father. “She must know you’ll stop them. Sure, they know it too. So why did they come?”

The dark horde had almost gained the house. The smell of sulfur crept into my nostrils, and panic seized my throat. I trusted Hugh, but how could he deal with so many entities at once?

“Oh hell no!” Deirdre declared.

I swallowed hard. “Um…guys, they’re getting pretty close.”

“Good.” Hugh sounded downright calm.

Brigit’s gaze swept over us all. “Let’s give him space. Leap high into the air and stay there.”

Deirdre raised her eyebrows. “Hover in the air? We can do that?”

Aengus nodded. “We can, and you’d want to do it now.”

His grip on my hand tightened, and we jumped into the air, together with Brigit, Deirdre, and Robin. Roughly 30 feet below us, Hugh stood his ground on the rooftop.

I turned to Aengus. “What’s he gonna do?”

“Send them back to the Netherworld.”

Up ʼtil then, I’d seen only one creature at a time sent packing. “All of them?”

Robin glanced my way. “Well, he is the Dagda.”

He was and no mistaking it. The embodiment of poise and power. As his hands formed the úath symbol, music filled the air. Not a melody, but the sound of a thousand violin strings playing in unison—their pitch sliding from high to low—as if the vast energy of the Otherworld condensed to a single purpose, to be used by one sentient being.

“Úath!” Light emanated from Hugh’s entire frame. It grew whiter, brighter, then exploded, rippling out from his body as a seismic wave that shocked the air, the land, and everything in its path. The force reverberated inside me and with a sonic boom, it blasted the dark sidhe back where they belonged.

3

The Sword Unsheathed

Excerpt #1

That night found me hovering above a massive, semicircular prehistoric fort at the edge of a cliff roughly 300 feet above the swish and swoosh of the ocean. Three concentric, terraced stone walls enclosed it, and beyond the third ring, an army of jagged stone slabs stood vigil. A large, tan tent dominated the innermost enclosure.

The all-encompassing twilight was telling, as were my bare feet and blue satin nightshirt, which I’d worn to bed. I was in the Otherworld, courtesy of an astral trip. But where exactly?

I had to know.

Determined, I floated to the ground in front of the tent’s entrance. A curious sense of déjà vu washed over me, and every inch of my flesh tingled with a hidden memory.

I’ve been here before. I’m sure of it.

I entered the tent, and a plush Persian carpet cushioned my feet as I explored. Sumptuous in texture and color, the interior seemed strangely familiar. There were silks, satins, and velvets in shades of gold, burgundy, ruby red, dark blue, and emerald green. Curtains, cushions, and pillows aplenty. Spherical, perforated hanging lanterns. There was even a Moroccan tray table of polished brass decorated with an arabesque pattern; atop it sat two crystal glasses and a matching decanter filled with brown liquid, as well as a compote containing what appeared to be cocoa-dusted chocolate truffles.

“I could get used to this,” I said aloud.

“Could you?”

I jumped, then whirled around. Lorcan stood an arm’s length away. As always, he wore his black, Regency Era greatcoat, breeches, and riding boots. A question, deeper than the one he’d asked, glowed in his ice blue eyes.

I trembled.

His eyes darkened. “Are you cold?”

“No. Are you?” A heartbeat after I spoke, I cringed inwardly. What a stupid reply!

He shook his head. Glossy black hair swayed, teasing his broad shoulders. “Not particularly.” A smile tugged at his full, sensuous lips as he gestured to the table. “Chocolate? Cognac?”

I clenched my fists, steeling myself against his charms. “No, thank you, and you can wipe that smile off your face. How can I trust you after what happened Christmas Eve?”

“What do you mean?”

“You left me alone in Aoife’s castle. Where did you disappear to?”

He blinked, and for a moment, his long eyelashes stole my focus. “Ashling, you know I went to investigate the noise we heard.”

“And never came back.”

“I did come back.”

“Really?” I tilted my head to the side. “Funny that I didn’t see you. Aoife said you brought me to her, like some kind of warped Christmas present or—”

“Aoife lies.”

“I’m sure she does, but she also spoke a lot of truth. Are you still working for her?”

“How can you ask that?”

“Easily.”

He sighed: a sound of impatience and annoyance, both of which I, too, had felt over the past few months. “As I told you before, when I met Caer—you—I left Aoife and planned to live the rest of my days in the Middleworld…here, with you. Then you disappeared on me.”

“So Christmas Eve was payback for something I did centuries ago?”

“It wasn’t. By the time I returned to the dungeon, you were gone. Then I sensed you were in danger. Of course, Aengus did too, and I arrived just in time to watch him save the day.” A shadow crossed his features.

I’d seen that look before, whenever he compared himself to Aengus. Sympathy surged within me, but I expelled it with a huff. “Why didn’t you come and tell me all this before?”

“I didn’t think you’d listen. I knew Aengus would poison your ears with lies about me. How can I compete with such a paragon?” He twisted his lips, and a hint of humor restored light to his face. “Perhaps if I wore only my long drawers.”

“Your what?”

“I believe you’d call them underwear.”

The image of a bare-chested Lorcan flashed in my mind and set my pulse racing. “No. Clothes are a good thing.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are they? Still, my attire is outdated.”

I shrugged. “A little.”

He furrowed his brow, then it smoothened. “I’ve got it.” Before my eyes, his clothing morphed into black jeans and a black T-shirt. “Better?”

Holy hell, he was sexy! Unfortunately, his new look emphasized the toned physique I’d only imagined till then.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t care what you wear.” It was true. He could dress in Super Mario footie pajamas, and I’d still think he was hot.

“Don’t you?” He inched toward me.

I took two steps back. “I…I wanted to ask…where are we? This place seems so familiar.”

“It should.” His eyes smoldered. “We made love here.”

My stomach dropped, and I fumbled for a reply. “You and Caer, you mean. How long were you together?”

“One perfect night.”

“That’s it?”

He stepped closer. “Even one moment of bliss can feel like an eternity. Caer and I created a heaven of our own. All. Night. Long.”

Dear God. I cleared my throat. “So you live here?”

“Ah. We’re going to have a safe conversation.”

“Yup…if you want me to stay.”

“I do, and yes, I live here. This is Dun Aengus on the isle of Inishmore. Once upon a time, it was Aengus’s home, hence the name which means ‘fort of Aengus,’ but he abandoned it. I’ll admit, I felt a perverse pleasure when I claimed it as my own.”

Doubt and distrust gnawed at me, and I frowned. “Did you feel the same way when you took Caer away from him?”

“That was different.”

“How?”

He reached for my hand and enfolded it with both of his. Everywhere his flesh touched mine, a subtle vibration took hold. “I wanted you more than anything else in the Otherworld, or any world. I still want you.”

“I’m with Aengus now.”

“But you were once with me.”

“I don’t even remember that.”

His gaze held mine. “Your soul remembers. It went looking for me tonight. That’s why you’re here.”

4

The Spear Alight

All aspiration toward sleep left me. I needed company. Now.

Lorcan.

Bad idea. Far worse than waking up my sister. But he wouldn’t judge. In fact, he’d probably be glad to see me. Me, Ashling Donoghue, pariah and maven of mistakes. I’d made a million of them. What was one more?

I imagined the interior of Lorcan’s tent at Dun Aengus on Inishmore. Then I flexed my will and was there, surrounded by rich colors, sumptuous fabrics, and perforated hanging lanterns. The intricately patterned Persian carpet felt soft and soothing to my bare feet.

Was he in bed? There was one safe way to find out. “Lorcan? Are you here?”

“Ashling?” His silken voice, warm and rousing, flowed from the bedroom and washed over me.

“Yes. It’s me.”

A heartbeat later, he appeared between the drawn, red curtains that separated his bed from the main section of the tent. He wore a black velvet dressing gown and an expression of mingled surprise and pleasure. With relaxed strides, he closed the gap between us. “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight.” His heated gaze roamed over me.

Too late, I realized I was wearing a thin, white night shirt that refused to cover anything below my upper thighs. I grabbed the hem on both sides and pulled downward…in vain. “I never planned to come.”

“Why did you?” His shoulder-length black hair looked as luxurious as his robe. I stifled the urge to touch both.

“I needed a friend.”

“Haven’t we traveled beyond the bounds of friendship?”

My stomach trembled at the memory of our passionate kiss. Stop it! I huffed. “That never should’ve happened.”

“But it did, because it had to.” His ice blue eyes held my gaze. “You belong to me. We belong to each other.”

“Aengus would disagree.”

“If he were here, but he isn’t.” He reached for my left hand and turned it over. Gently, he caressed my palm with the pad of his thumb.

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” My palm tingled.

“You are the answer. Nothing and no one else.”

Judith Sterling is an award-winning author whose love of history and passion for the paranormal infuse everything she writes. Whether penning medieval romance (The Novels of Ravenwood) or young adult paranormal fantasy (the Guardians of Erin series), her favorite themes include true love, destiny, time travel, healing, redemption, and finding the hidden magic which exists all around us. She loves to share that magic with readers and whisk them far away from their troubles, particularly to locations in the British Isles.

Her nonfiction books, written under Judith Marshall, have been translated into multiple languages. She has an MA in linguistics and a BA in history, with a minor in British Studies. Born in that sauna called Florida, she craved cooler climes, and once the travel bug bit, she lived in England, Scotland, Sweden, Wisconsin, Virginia, and on the island of Nantucket. She currently lives in Salem, Massachusetts with her husband and their identical twin sons.

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