The Devoncroix Series Continues

Fantasy/Supernatural

After five years, the blockbuster series that was begun with THE PASSION and THE PROMISE
continues with THE COVENANT.
THE COVENANT, a prequel to THE PASSION, tells the story of Queen Eudora, the medieval
werewolf queen who changed the face of history forever, and sets the stage for the saga to
continue.

Excerpt from THE COVENANT:

The castle had been cleared of humans, and for that Eudora was grateful, although their stench
was still strong. The corridors were ablaze with torches, the stone floors lined with fragrant branches
and cut herbs. The scent of werewolf mixed with that of roasted meat and beeswax candles,
honeyed pastries, sweet still wine and cultivated blossoms. The place was unnaturally silent, even
to a werewolf’s ears; she could hear the sound of breathing, and of soft rustling movement, but
nothing more. Eudora crouched low, seeking pools of shadow and staying close to the shelter of
walls, following the scent of strange werewolf toward a fate she could not even imagine.
The queen rounded a corner and came into a great open hall. Every surface was lit with glowing
wax tapers. Elaborately carved wooden chandeliers, sparkling with candlelight, were spaced
regularly throughout the vast room, and their light was reflected in polished plates of silver and
gold, and prismed by the crystal dishes that were arranged upon a long central table. The table was
piled high with succulent dishes and amusing follies: whole roasted pigs and yearling calves,
cooked pheasant decorated with elaborately arranged feathers, a platter of coiled intestines formed
of pastry and marmalade, and even a human head--arranged on a platter with its eyes and mouth
spread open in a death-scream--formed entirely of marzipan.
Around the table, dressed in rich velvets and brushed woolens, elaborately painted and bewigged
and decked with jewels, were three or four dozen werewolves, the entire Fasburg clan, standing with
their glasses raised to welcome their visiting queen. Eudora found herself in the infuriating position
of having stalked nothing more dangerous than her own welcoming banquet.

                           Eric

I confess it. I, Eric Fasburg, Prince of Fasburg– also known as that brash irreverent ne’re do well
who dared to ennoble himself with the pretense of royalty-- had staged the banquet as much to
mock the queen as to honor her. And I must say, I succeeded quite well.
I’ll never forget the look on her face as I stood upon the dias dressed in velvets and the fur of
ermine, wearing my human crown and lifting high my jeweled goblet in a laughing toast to our
greatly lauded queen. Nor how my heart stilled in my chest as the eyes of the queen turned upon
me, the blue of fire at its hottest point, and the room was suddenly charged in every molecule with
the power of her presence. Breaths stilled, skin prickled, even the furniture and the carpets and
yes, the air itself was suddenly alive, shimmering, bursting with the potential of what she was. I felt
the tug in my solar plexus as she gathered the Passion unto herself, as sparks swirled and danced
and polarized into her; I felt my breath flow toward her and the blood in my veins melt into her, I felt
the aching yearning desperate loneliness of a thousand windswept years pull me to her. The stem
of that fine goblet snapped between my fingers as with all my will I fought my own need to Change,
to be a part of her as she was already a part of me, and when, with a clap of thunder and an electric
tremor that snapped through the room, she burst before me in full, sleek beautiful human form, I
was quite hopelessly, desperately in love.
It has been known to happen that the magnificence of one werewolf’s metamorphosis might be so
intense, so grandly transcendental that it touches the very core of another werewolf, catching him
up and drawing him in until his very soul is captured, it seems, in the essence of the other. It is said
that this kind of transference happens only to those who were truly destined for each other; it is
also, perhaps, one reason that the Change, among werewolves, is so often referred to as the
Passion.
So it was with Eric, Prince of Fasburg, and my hopeless, magnificent, unplanned and unwelcomed
passion for Eudora the Queen. I had set out to teach her a lesson, but she had in the end captured
my very soul.
Before that day I had lived my life as a careless bon vivant who venerated neither werewolf nor
human, and who prided myself on the fact that no living thing escaped my mockery. Despite rumors
to the contrary, I held humans in contempt, but found them useful if well trained. Similarly, I
regarded the remainder of the pack and its leaders as a frivolous, inferior and largely superfluous
bunch...until Eudora. I had been prepared to defend myself, my family and my lifestyle with my
rapier wit and legendary charm, but found myself unexpectedly in awe of this creature who called
herself my queen, humbled and helpless, and it was a situation with which I did not entirely know
how to deal.
And there was, of course, the unfortunate fact that my desperate adoration for the queen was not,
nor was it likely to be, returned.

copyright 2006 by Donna Ball Inc
—The Covenant
coming soon from Donna Boyd