Aisling, Book Three; Beloved Son
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by Carole Cummings
Category: Young Adult/Romance
Description: Newfound love might not be enough. Trust holds the possibility of both salvation and damnation. Circumstances having forced them to seek asylum in Lind, Wil and Dallin are momentarily safe, but find themselves at the center of a convergence they're not sure they're strong enough to face. The power of the land and the Mother awaits Wil in the bowels of Lind, but it comes with strings attached. With Dallin's help, Wil must find a way to defeat the soul-eater, save the Father, Her Beloved, and manage to keep his soul in the process. Through deduction and magic and mutual strength, Dallin and Wil must accept their roles as the Guardian and the Aisling and stand together against a ruthless god in a climactic battle of dreams and wills. The fates of their souls and those of all mortals hang in the balance. But what good is the power of love if the one who needs it doesn't know how to trust? Aisling: Book Three, Beloved Son, is the third book in the Aisling series. Other titles in the Aisling series include Book One: Guardian, and Book Two: Dream.
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Prizm Books, 2011 www.torquerepress.com
eBookwise Release Date: January 2012
3 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [508 KB]
Reading time: 336-471 min.
"So well-intentioned, Dallin Brayden, but too..." Calder shook his head sadly.
Wil didn't ask him to finish. He was already feeling culpable enough. He'd spent too much time today being pissed off over nothing, and not nearly enough paying attention. He tossed back the rest of the tea, nodded.
"Too everything," he told Calder. "There's so very much of him, sometimes it seems impossible there might be boundaries at all."
"He loves too well and too deeply," Calder put in gently. "It is not meant, what you have between you. It can do no good--to you, to him, or to Lind."
That made Wil bristle. "That's hardly for you to say, is it? And anyway, I don't think there's such a thing as... as loving too well, and... and if... if..." Damn, he hated it when he lost track of what he was saying in the middle of a good bluster. "You're too bloody nosy, Calder. You're always... I don't like it when..." His mind stumbled this time, a slight haze covering his thoughts, making them thick and sticky.
He paused, gathered himself, shook his head to clear it. Tired, that was what it was. It had been such a long day, and he'd been asleep for the four before, and his brain had nearly exploded out his ears before that. "If the..." He blinked, gave his head another shake, the chain of his thoughts suddenly breaking apart, the links flying out in every direction. What had he been saying? What had he been doing? Something silly, something... no. No, it was something important, but Calder would probably think it was silly, and anyway, it was private, and Calder would only roll his eyes if he knew, shake his head and blabber it to the Old Ones so they could say that what the Aisling and the Guardian were getting up to wasn't meant, and...
A tiny snort leaked from Wil's mouth. And so the fuck what.
"Bowl. I was... the Burning Bowl, and it... no, Blessing. The bowl, I mean..." The words were slurred and syrupy, like his tongue had just outgrown his mouth, and he staggered, his left leg turning to water. He went down on one knee, goggled at the ground, at Calder's boots, at the divot in the grass Wil had clawed up before when Dallin had sunk his teeth into Wil's shoulder and made him beg, and then at the dirt still crusting lightly under his fingernails... at the cup losing focus in his hand...
He knew this feeling. If his mind had been working, it would have been screaming.
"I am sorry, Aisling," Calder said gravely. "But even in this, I serve you."
"Serve...?" As though his hand belonged to someone else, Wil held the cup out, lifted it up toward Calder. "What... what have you...?"
Calder knelt in front of him, gently took the cup from him, reached out and stroked his cheek with a broad, callused hand. "Someone has to be the Guardian, lad. I do the Mother's will, as I always have done."