Return to Avalon: Book #4 (The Legend Series) Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Kylie Stewart

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, titles, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published by KCS Publishing

  Cover Design: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design

  www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Proofreading: Jenny Sims

  www.editing4indies.com

  Formatting: Brenda Wright

  Formatting Done Wright

  What Makes a Legend?

  “Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is right wise king born of all England.”

  ~ Thomas Malory

  Legend is based off King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. The original story of King Arthur was written by Thomas Malory in 1485 titled: Le MorteD’Arthur. Historians and archeologists have tried to find King Arthur’s resting place or any trace of his seat in Camelot. There is no record the Isle of Avalon ever existed. Others speculate the isle was swallowed by the sea. Myth ties Tintagel Castle, which rests on a peninsula in Cornwall, England, to Arthur’s birthplace and the cave of Merlin.

  Was Arthur one man or several tales of brave warriors in the Dark Ages put together in a grand design?

  This series takes on a life of its own with the modern world we know mixed with technology, magic, religion, and of course – love.

  The quest for King Arthur may never be answered.

  Perhaps he has better served us as an ideal rather than a man.

  He is the once and future king.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to unconditional love. To the love of a lifetime, to a love of the moment, love is love is love.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  WHAT MAKES A LEGEND?

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  LEGEND BOOK #5 RISE OF THE DRAGON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY KYLIE STEWART

  PLAYLIST

  If only the clockworks could speak

  I wouldn't be so alone

  We burn every magnet and spring

  And spiral into the unknown

  Somebody shine a light

  I'm frozen by the fear in me

  Somebody make me feel alive

  And shatter me

  So cut me from the line

  Dizzy, spinning endlessly

  Somebody make me feel alive

  And shatter me!

  If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly

  There's no one to catch me if I take a dive

  I'm scared of changing, the days stay the same

  The world is spinning but only in gray

  If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly

  There's no one to catch me if I take a dive

  I'm scared of changing, the days stay the same

  The world is spinning but only in gray

  Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling

  Love does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. Love keeps no record of wrongs …

  PROLOGUE

  Avalon

  When you lose the most important person in your life, there is a process of healing.

  The first part of the process is to grieve. Stifling one’s sadness can lead to unresolved issues later in life. Understand the why and how you are feeling, and remember it.

  Hold onto it.

  Never forget it.

  Second is to release. To cry is not to be weak. It is a natural human response evoked by overwhelming emotions. I’m not going to say whether I’ve lost sleep crying over my predicament …

  Finally, the third is the shift or to move on.

  I can’t.

  I refuse.

  I can listen to my grief, and I can swallow my tears, but I will never stomach moving on without her.

  So I propose a new third—fight.

  Revenge isn’t a good option to focus on however sweetly it calls to me. It only mars the soul and blackens the purest of hearts. Revenge is a poison, and to fight against the turn of the world’s axis would be crazy.

  I am not crazy.

  I have been reborn.

  And I will be victorious.

  Failure is not an option.

  We are out of time.

  ONE

  Alexandria

  Four months later

  Molded between my fingers on the pottery wheel, the clay spun around and around in a gentle whir. For the past hour, I created intricate bowls, cups, and vases only to crush them and start over. My jeans were stained, and stray pieces of my hair stuck to my face. I knew streaks of clay painted my cheeks from pushing the tickling strands away.

  “Uh-oh.” Elaine’s voice interrupted my wandering concentration. “Still haven’t put anything in the kiln?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and shot her a wan smile. “Nothing feels right to finish.”

  My best friend smiled gently. “You’ve been acting a bit scatterbrained since your accident.” She moved an easel to the center of our gallery. “I’m sure you’ll eventually regain your inspiration.”

  “I hope so,” I mused, studying the possible cup between my palms. “This whole feeling lost bit is starting to eat at me.” The clay caved in on itself as I allowed the piece to fail.

  Elaine didn’t reply as she set up her canvas and oil paints.

  With a sigh, I switched off the wheel and plopped the gray substance back into the white bucket next to me where the rest of the clay lived.

  Gray.

  Ever since my accident, that color haunted my mind. It was the only color I wanted to use in my craft. The only color I longed to see.

  “Earth to Allie.” Elaine’s hand waved in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. Her gentle smile hid the worry I knew she felt. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.” I rose from the stool and set it back underneath a nearby desk. “I’m going to go upstairs and shower before Lancer picks me up tonight.”

  Elaine crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips. “I don’t understand why you don’t just move in with him. I mean, you are engaged.”

  My gaze fell to the desktop where my diamond engagement ring sat safely tucked away from the materials that coul
d damage it. I picked up the delicate white gold ring and studied the large princess cut gem. “I just want to wait, you know?”

  Her eyebrow arched, and she held her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. It’s your choice.”

  I chuckled and escaped up the stairs to our flat with my ring in hand.

  Once inside my room, I set the ring in its box, waiting to put it back on until after I’d washed my hands and showered. My reflection caught my attention, and I stared.

  Ever since I’d woken up from my accident, it felt like some piece of my memory hadn’t fallen back into place. Pieces of the puzzle that should have clicked in place stayed in shadows or blurred oblivion. My fingertips trailed along my collarbone and up to my neck.

  The overwhelming feeling of losing something important plagued me day and night. No matter how happy I was to have reconciled and now be engaged to Lancer, a void lingered.

  I turned my eyes downward and walked away from the woman in the reflection who was begging me to solve the mystery. A shower needed to happen before Lancer picked me up for our semi-date, semi-meeting to go over the details of our engagement party.

  I didn’t want to throw one, but he did.

  Since both of my parents were gone, getting married never excited me. I would have no father to walk me down the aisle. No mother to gush over me in my wedding dress. Lancer promised me I would regret not doing the whole white wedding routine, but I begged to differ.

  My body went through the motions of undressing and turning on the shower, then stepping into the steady stream and letting the warm spray wash away any remaining clay.

  Another strange habit I’d picked up since my accident was taking longer showers. I found that certain fuzzy thoughts grew clearer when surrounded by water. As I bathed, I closed my eyes and tried to choose a spot in my memory that needed recovery.

  All I could make out was gray.

  That color …

  With an irritated huff, I opened my eyes and finished rinsing my hair free of conditioner. The long locks now fell well below my shoulder blades and needed a lot of attention to blow-dry and tame. I didn’t mind it, but it did require a longer prep time.

  Four months had passed since I’d woken from my accident.

  November turned to December, and Christmas came and went. A light dusting of snow coated London and the surrounding areas, transforming it into a winter wonderland.

  Lancer and I rang in the New Year with a kiss and Valentine’s Day passed full of chocolates and wine. Now, March came in like a lion. Watching the rain almost every other day reminded me what an English spring looked like.

  Last March, Elaine and I were three months away from my first art gallery showing. Yet everything about that showing, the days leading up to it, and the night of the event were locked away in that unreachable part of my mind.

  Dr. Tristan said that I may have lost certain memories over the past year for good.

  My fingers found the soft green towel hanging just out of my reach, and I dried off before wrapping it around my hair. Another thing I did more often now was walk around naked in my own space. It wasn’t that I didn’t before, but now … I don’t know … I felt more in charge and dare I say—sexy?

  Lancer didn’t complain. In fact, I think he enjoyed this about me when I stayed overnight at his townhome. My bathrobe was all but a myth and left hanging behind my bathroom door like some ancient tapestry.

  I’d left my phone on my dresser plugged in to charge, and I checked the screen to make sure Lancer hadn’t sent me a text. He had.

  Lancer: I’ll be over in an hour. I hope you are ready to plan a party. Xoxo

  I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat just thinking about a party completely focused on us. An art show was one thing—the focus would be almost exclusively on my art—but a party that celebrated me as a bride? I just couldn’t get into that.

  Me: I love you, drive safe.

  There.

  That was an easy response, and one more way to avoid talking about invitations, which chapel we would book, and the caterer. The way Lancer went on and on about our upcoming nuptials, I considered letting him be the bride.

  I chuckled at that thought, rummaging around in my makeup case for the items needed to do myself up for our date.

  Thirty minutes later, my face was on, my hair as good as it would get for the night, and I just zipped my blue dress closed.

  “Ah, jewelry.” I skirted around my vanity seat and pushed the PIN into my small safe that housed the jewels my mother left me. When I opened the door and reached inside, I pulled out a box I’d never seen before.

  Instantly, my eyes narrowed, and I carefully opened the lid.

  I gasped.

  Inside laid a sapphire necklace with matching drop earrings.

  These belong to my grandmother …

  No memory of her ever gifting me these gems came to mind as I marveled at the rich blue color and glittering diamond accents.

  I shrugged and slid the earring posts into my pierced ears. Later on in the week, I’d have to phone her to ask how I came by her most prized set.

  My phone buzzed on my dresser again.

  Lancer: Elaine let me in. Are you almost ready?

  Smiling, I opened the door to my bedroom and saw the tall, handsome man leaning against our kitchen island talking to Elaine as she poured herself a glass of white wine.

  “Ready,” I answered, walking with a spring in my step over to him.

  “There she is.” Lancer pushed himself back up to stand and held out his arms to me. “You look ravishing.”

  “Ugh, get a room, you two,” Elaine teased while taking her glass over to the sofa and turning on the flat screen.

  Lancer and I laughed, and he kissed me swiftly. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

  “Why thank you,” I teased back. “I won’t be home tonight, Elaine.”

  She waved from her perch without turning around. “I figured.”

  We walked out the second-story exit and into the attached car park where Lancer’s sleek black Jaguar waited.

  “Did you manage to finish anything today?” Lancer asked, unlocking his vehicle and opening my door for me. I’d told him about my loss of inspiration and inability to finish any of the projects I started.

  Slipping into the passenger seat, I shook my head. “No. I tried to go back to basics with the pottery wheel and still nothing.”

  Lancer offered a gentle smile. “Don’t push yourself, Allie. It will come.” He shut my door and strode around the back of the car to get in on his own side. “You’re one of London’s finest artists. Nothing will keep you down for long.”

  His faith in me kept me hopeful. “Thank you, Lancer.”

  “I love you.” He leaned across the console and placed a deeper, sweeter kiss on my lips. I loved his taste and relished in the adoration I felt being poured down my throat. However, one thing that used to flow between us seemed to be missing—passion.

  When we made love, of course, it was wonderful and meaningful, but I usually felt a twinge of guilt. Other times, emptiness took over.

  Dr. Tristan said that it would take time for my mind to catch up to my body. I just didn’t want to wait forever.

  “I hope you’re hungry for Italian,” Lancer said in a teasing tone. He knew that Italian was number one on my top favorite foods.

  I flashed him a grin. “You know that I am always up for Italian.”

  He winked. “I know, milady.”

  We pulled up to the valet in front of an upscale establishment, and Lancer got out, rounded the car, and helped me out. He tossed the valet the keys, and we escaped the chill of the night.

  The hostess quickly found our reservation, and seated us immediately in a quiet corner away from the bustle of the main floor. After our wine, appetizers, and meal were ordered, Lancer pulled out a small leather-bound book and uncapped a pen.

  My heart fizzled from excitement to dread.

  “I wanted to go over a few
things for our engagement party.” Lancer reached over and took my hand. “Just a few.”

  I forced a smile, ignoring the panic attack that clawed its way up my spine. “Okay.”

  Lancer launched into explaining the venue, the live orchestra, and even certain guests he wanted on the list. I listened as best as I could, but my wine glass became empty and needed a refill.

  “There is something I need to tell you.” His voice lowered, and his deep forest green eyes leveled with mine.

  “Oh?” Immediately, my interest piqued. “What is it?”

  He took a fortifying sip of his wine before gathering my hand again. “You know that I had a foster parent of sorts.”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “That person who raised me was more like a brother to me, and I would like to invite him to our engagement party.” He seemed worried as if I’d say no to his only family.

  “Of course, he can come.” My fear of being center stage melted away at Lancer’s obvious nervousness. “Who is he?”

  He paused, no, hesitated before saying, “The Duke of Avalon.”

  “The Duke of Avalon?” My furrowed brows softened and lifted in surprise. “The man they call The Dragon?”

  Lancer chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “One and the same. He raised me, put me through school, and helped me out in college.”

  I sat back in my chair, shocked that I hadn’t known this piece of information before now. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “He told me not to tell too many people. He didn’t want me to be marred by his reputation.”

  I took a moment to process what he just told me.

  The man who raised Lancer was not only a duke but also a legend amongst the upper class and nobility in this country.

  “Well, I believe that if he raised you, he should come.” I smiled reassuringly at Lancer across the table. “He needs to be there since he is family.”

  “Thank you, Allie.” Lancer let out a sigh of relief. “That means a lot to me.”