Loretta Knight Of The Haligtree Novels & Stories

Somebody whom I should be able to trust with my life and yet respect? A maid now came out practically at once, sliding rocket-like over the hall. She curtly bowed, then spoke. Your Highness, the knight is called and is waiting on you. I breathed deeply and got myself straight as Rowan leaned his head. The seconds passed, and with each stroke of the clock they seemed immeasurably long. Then, the door opened.

They watched as the cloaked woman inched closer to the trees that were dense - to that spot where they fought for dominance. Lady Lucia had a smirk on her face. She knew without being told she was close. After all, it was the same place Keratin and Storm brought her to in wait for the earthling, Germaine. She brought out her staff as she got to the dense grove of trees and said an incant. She waited with bated breath, but nothing happened.

"It was the little crannogman, I bet." "No one knew," said Meera, "but the mystery knight was short of stature, and clad in ill-fitting armor made up of bits and pieces. The device upon his shield was a heart tree of the old gods, a white weirwood with a laughing red face." "Maybe he came from the Isle of Faces," said Bran. "Was he green?" In Old Nan's stories, the guardians had dark green skin and leaves instead of hair. Sometimes they had antlers too, but Bran didn't see how the mystery knight could have worn a helm if he had antlers. "I bet the old gods sent him."

Loretta stared at him, speechless with awe. “You haven’t been coming to training,” Sven told me, ignoring Loretta. “There hasn’t been time,” I said. “Salem has changed, and . . . ” I trailed off, unwilling to reveal the depths of my fear. “I’m sorry. We can resume our training soon.” “Who’s the harlequin?” he asked, jerking his head in Loretta’s direction without looking at her. Loretta got up from the bed, nightgown trailing at her ankles, and held out her hand with a grin. “I’m Loretta Wolstenholm, good sir. Pleased to meet you.” She was blushing profusely.

He was going to enjoy the next few hours for sure! After making love for the third time in 2 hours, they both were lying on their backs cuddling against each other. She was resting her head on his arm and her hand was interlaced with his free hand. She was thinking about how much her life had changed in just a short time. She had always dreamed of these moments with him. Being his girl, if that's what she was. She remembered when she was a young girl and wrote his last name with her name. Sienna Knight. What she wouldn't give to be called that. She didn't care what anyone thought. She was 18 and legal and it was no one else's business. Not even her fathers.

“That is if you are allowed to have royal healers to watch over you.” Bruess’s eyes met mine, and I noted his deep curiosity. His next question caught me off guard. “You’re her daughter, aren’t you? Loretta of the Moonstone Pack. The infamous royal healer of Bragne.”

"Your Majesty, this is treason! She brewed a love potion and intended it for your own knight commander. The law is clear. The penalty for such witchcraft is death." My vision blurred. I tried to speak, but Lady Kalali cut me off every time I opened my mouth. “She must be executed!” Lady Kalali cried. “This is no petty crime. She was plotting to manipulate a royal knight!” The Queen looked at me with ice in her stare. “Do you deny it?” I opened my mouth again. “I, I didn’t mean…” Lady Kalali screeched, “She admits it!” My knees nearly buckled. I felt myself sinking into hopeless silence. It was useless. Every word I tried to say was torn apart before it could even leave my lips.

Knights exchanged quick glances, hands brushing against sword hilts. “Tell us, Priestess,” another said, voice firm but cautious. Helena drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. “The apostle of the God of Lust, Heron… his essence, his power, it is unparalleled. It flows with the ability to heal and replenish life itself. The Goddess has shown me that, should I unite with him, even once, my powers will be magnified beyond what we now can comprehend.” A murmur rippled through the room. One knight cleared his throat. “You mean… you must…?”

she said in a still voice. The others paused, watching as Lena approached the tree. She rested her hand on its bark, sensing its warmth flow into her palm. A torrent of images surged through her thoughts, glimpses of Zara’s last moments, her affection for the man she had lost, and the serene tranquility she discovered in her sacrifice. But amidst the flood of memories, Lena glimpsed something else. A flicker of light, hidden deep within the Heartwood’s core. It was faint, but it pulsed with a familiar rhythm.

Figures emerged from the forest one by one—some solid, some half-shimmering at the edges, others carrying the unmistakable weight of old magic worn like a mantle rather than armor. They stopped at the edge of the clearing. No one crossed. Selene stepped forward. The reaction was immediate—not kneeling, not recoiling, but stilling. Every presence fixed on her as if the clearing itself had narrowed to that single point. Lucien moved to her right. Rowan to her left. Balanced. A woman stepped forward from the group. She was tall, pale-skinned, her hair bound in intricate braids threaded with symbols Selene recognized from old witch-lore—marks of lineage, not allegiance. Her eyes glowed faintly b