A Choice of Secrets. Barb Hendee

      REBEL BASE BOOKS

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

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      Copyright © 2018 by Barb Hendee

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      First Electronic Edition: November 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-63573-034-0

      eISBN-10: 1-63573-034-1

      First Print Edition: November 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-63573-035-7

      ISBN-10: 1-63573-035-X

      Printed in the United States of America

      The Mirror

      Long ago, a vain lord enslaved a young witch so that he might force her to use her powers to keep him handsome and young. His most valued possession was an ornate three-paneled mirror in which he could see himself from several angles. Looking into its panels, he loved to admire his own beauty.

      Seeking revenge on him, the young witch began secretly imbuing the mirror with power, planning to trap him in the reflection of the three panels where he might view different outcomes of his useless life over and over, and he’d suffer to see himself growing old and unwanted. But unknown to her, as she continued to cast power into the mirror, it came to gain a will and awareness of its own.

      One night, the lord caught her as she worked her magic, and he realized she was attempting to enchant his beloved mirror. In a rage, he drew a dagger and killed her. But her spirit fled into the mirror. Though she had been seeking escape, she was once again enslaved...this time by the mirror itself. It whispered to her that it would protect her and use the power she’d given it for tasks more important than punishing a vain lord. Together, they would seek out those facing difficult decisions and show them outcomes to their choices.

      “Wait!” she cried, inside the mirror. “What does that mean?”

      The mirror vanished from the lord’s room, taking her with it.

      And no one knew where it might appear again.

      Chapter 1

      At the age of seventeen, I had no real understanding of the danger of secrets…of keeping them, of sharing them, of telling the wrong person for the right reasons.

      But I was soon to learn the depths of my own ignorance.

      One afternoon, in mid-summer, I was in the vast kitchen of my family home, with six other women, rolling dough for both peach and strawberry tarts. One of our housemaids, Jenny, stuck her head in the back door.

      “Lady Nicole,” she said to me. “Lord Erik and Lord Christophe have arrived. They’re in the hunting hall.”

      This news made me smile. “Does Lady Chloe know? Or my mother and father?”

      “Not yet. I’ll go and find them.”

      “Thank you.”

      Not bothering to even take off my apron or shake the flour from my hair, I hurried out the door and into the open-air center of what was known as White Deer Lodge. All around me, ten large log buildings had been constructed in a circle. Small paths connected each building to the next. Two of the constructions functioned as our family’s residence. Others housed guests or servants or our guards. One was designated for storage. The largest construction was called the gathering hall for communal events. On the outside of this circle, a village thrived, with dwellings, shops, stables, and a smithy.

      A stone wall surrounded the village, and heavy forests surrounded three sides of the wall, but not far beyond the west side, the ocean stretched down the coast of the nation of Samourè. This lodge was my home and my father, Gideon Montagna, was lord of these lands.

      In that moment, though, I gave little thought to my home or my father, and instead, I continued in my quick pace to the smallest of the log buildings—known as the hunting hall. I’d never cared much for this hall, as it was decorated with spears, longbows, and the heads of animals. But nonetheless, once inside the front door, I looked toward the unlit great hearth with a flood of happiness rising inside me.

      My elder brother, Erik, and Lord Christophe de Fiore stood in conversation. Both men wore chain armor and swords. Several servants bustled about, pouring mugs of ale.

      As I came through the door, Erik’s face broke into a smile and he called out, “Nicole!”

      I ran to him. Well over a head taller, he swept me up in both arms,