Minotaur's Lair
Servant of the Gods Book 3
The Minotaur stirs. Evan is drugged to forget the gods' quest.
Evan and his companions are entrapped by the Amazon Queen Antioche and her warriors. Memories and allegiances are tested. The Dark Master's victorious revenge over the gods is almost complete. The plight of the High Priestess is precarious, her health ailing, and unable to rescue her brother and fellow Atlanteans.
The last sacred relic, secreted in the lair of the Minotaur, must be recovered or the Dark Master's succession plans of a new god are complete. The mystical lands of Krete, the final stage of Evan's journey, are within his grasp. He must succeed so his father, Zeus, fulfills his promise. Then there is Queen Antioche, and the precious gifts she presents him.
Will Evan return home, and what will become of his future?
Minotaur's Lair is the third and final book in the action-packed Servant of the Gods historical fiction series. If you enjoy well-researched landscapes, historic characters, excitement, mythical creatures and unique settings, then you'll love Luciana Cavallaro's heroic odyssey.
**Releases on Dec 13th! PreOrder Now for Only $1.99!**
Excerpt
The sun filtered through the small window, brightening the otherwise dingy room, the beams of light falling across a motionless body that lay in a bed. The shallow sounds of inhalation and exhalation broke the unnatural silence. The woman’s shrivelled and fragile frame, covered by a grey woollen blanket, exacerbated the pallor of her face and her long, limp, dull locks. Her eyelids quivered as the sun’s rays caressed her face.
‘Alexina, wake up,’ whispered a gentle voice.
The High Priestess’ fingers twitched under the covers.
‘My dearest daughter, you must awaken. Your brother and companions need you—they are in trouble. But you cannot help them if you do not waken.’ The speaker paused and then in a firmer, deeper tone said, ‘Alexina! Open your eyes. Now.’
A thickset body blocked the sun’s light and cast a shadow over the reposed form of the High Priestess. Her eyelids fluttered open, sensing a familiar presence. She was oblivious to her surroundings, her ice-blue gaze transfixed by the dark timber slats of the ceiling. Her mind was awash with strange images, random pictures that she could not comprehend.
‘Whe …’ she began, but no words came out. She tried to swallow, her mouth and throat as dry as the woollen-spun coverlet. She opened and closed her mouth, as a baby did when hungry. ‘Wh … where … am I?’ she breathed.
The older woman spun around, startled.
‘Goodness, you are awake.’ She moved closer to the bed and gawked at Alexina, dumbfounded.
‘Where … am … I?’ Alexina repeated, voice hoarse yet clear.
‘You are in the palace of Queen Antioche,’ the woman replied, laying a hand on her forehead.
‘Who are you?’ Alexina asked, the words coming out in breathless spurts, as if she had just sprinted the one hundred stades.
‘I am the queen’s physician.’ The healer stepped back to the table, her hands moving, though Alexina could not see what she was doing.
‘Why … am I … here?’
‘Do you remember anything?’ the healer asked, glancing back at her.
Alexina’s ice-blue eyes clouded. ‘No.’
‘Your ship capsized during a storm and you struck your head, which left you unconscious. The damage to the ship made it impossible to sail, and the winds brought you here to the Isle of Hephaistos.’
‘How … long … have I … been here?’ Alexina asked, her stomach twisting. The odd pictures were now making sense—they were fragments of memories of what had happened since she’d left Atlantis, and of their errand as set by the gods.
‘You have been a guest of the queen for five full moons.’
‘What?’ She tried to sit up but collapsed back onto the bed, puffing. ‘It is imperative I see my brother and companions.’
‘That is not possible.’ The healer moved to the bedside with haste. She shook her head at Alexina and took her slender, pale hand. ‘You are unwell, and if you were to stand, you will fall. First, we must build your strength, and when you are stronger, then you may see your brother.’
‘Bring my brother here,’ Alexina said, her lips trembling. ‘I must speak to him.’
The healer smiled and patted her hand. ‘There, there, my dear, please calm yourself, I will summon your brother.’ She placed Alexina’s hand on the bed, moved to the table and grabbed an earthenware cup. ‘Drink this, it will help you get better.’
With the woman’s aid, the High Priestess drank the bitter-tasting liquid and sank back onto the bed, exhausted.
‘I shall return with food and news of your brother,’ she said, setting the cup back on the table behind her. ‘But for now, I want you to rest.’
Alexina’s eyelids were getting heavier, and she tried to resist the drowsiness that threatened to overcome her.
‘What was … in that b … b … beverage?’ she asked, slurring her words, her tongue thickening and sticking to the roof of her mouth.
‘It’s a draught to help you sleep.’ The older woman’s voice sounded far away. ‘It will aid your recovery.’
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