The Savage and the Swan Read Online Ella Fields

Categories Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)

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The Savage and the Swan

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Ella Fields

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The king of wolves was more beast than man, more tyrant than king, and so much more than he seemed. Raised to avenge his murdered parents, he’d been trained and conditioned until nothing but violence and hatred lined the walls of his dead heart.
For nearly four years, I’d done all I could to help my kingdom as we faced the wolf king’s unconquerable evil—hardly anything at all. As the only heir to the Gracewood line, I’d been relegated to menial tasks that would keep me and my secrets safe.
A chance to do more than fret behind our castle walls arrived when I breached them after overhearing my parents’ plans for my future. Fleeing, I unknowingly raced into a fate we’d all desperately hoped to avoid.
By the time I saw him coming, it was far too late. For my family. For my kingdom. For my heart.
Before I could staunch the bleeding, the king had me under his giant paw, and one wrong move after another caused those razor-sharp claws to sink deeper and deeper beneath my bruised skin.
I might have been trapped, naïve, and furious, but I still had a kingdom to save—and a plan. Yet when we collided, the bloodshed, the fear, his atrocities... all of it dissolved like stardust upon the night sea.
The stars had mapped out our destiny, but it didn’t matter what they or my heart wanted. I refused to see the enigmatic male, the heartless lost boy with a soul beneath the flesh of a monster.
The savage king who’d destroyed everything I loved would fall—even if my heart fell with him.

Inspired by Hades and Persephone, Rumpelstiltskin, and The Swan Princess, The Savage and the Swan is not connected to any other Ella Fields novel. It’s a full-length standalone romantic fantasy containing mature content.
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Ella Fields

My hand fell away from the door I’d been about to open to bid my parents good night.

“The human prince?” my mother cried. “To hand her to him, to them, is not only a betrayal to our daughter but it is an insult to everything we’ve built while suffering their presence in these lands.”

“You think me unaware of that?” my father boomed. Frozen, I waited, withering on the spot as his voice softened. “We have no other choice, Nikaya. It’s this or await the map of the stars to unfold, and we both know what he will do to her, to any of us, should he be given the opportunity.”

My mother gave no response, and I could picture her serene face mottled with concern, ruby cheeks twisting with her worrisome thoughts.

“They will take her, this I know, and although she might not care for the prince, nor he for her, she will be safe.”

“Safe?” My mother half laughed. “They may fear us and do our bidding, but make no mistake, Althon, they mock us all the same,” she seethed, her voice uncharacteristically cold. “They will be anything but pleasant to her.”

Water welled in my eyes, my hand shaking as I lifted it to open the door. My father’s next words stopped me. “Better for her to be uncomfortable than to be tortured or to meet her end before she can produce an heir like Joon. This grants protection and therefore time for Opal to ensure the Gracewood line continues.”

I turned away at that and raced downstairs to the empty kitchens below, my nightgown fluttering behind me, catching the gathering wind as I exploded through the door and into the rear gardens. Uncollected fruit and leaves splattered and crunched, but I didn’t stop.

The sky deepened with darkness as I forced my feet to carry me faster through the ankle-deep grass. As I tried to outrace my thundering heart.

The swish of the blades, the lavender fields, the stars overhead, and the spray of dirt beneath my bare feet were the only witnesses to my escape.

I ran for the shelter of the pitch-black woods—to the path through them I’d memorized by heart as a child long before the attacks and bloodshed began—and I didn’t stop until I’d reached the mouth of the low-lying cave.

There, I crawled through, rising to my full height as the tunnel grew deeper while yawning slowly down toward the cliffside of the ravine. The dead tree, hollowed out and nearly as wide as the castle towers, blocked the exit. I walked through it, desperate to escape the damp dirt and feel the breeze and starlight upon my wet cheeks once more.

A branch, gnarled and blanketed in moss, tucked against the inner belly of the tree, awaited my soiled feet. Up they climbed until my head breached the hole, and I could grip the knots on either side of it to haul myself up to sit aside the opening.

For precious moments, I just breathed, the bark warm and rough against my legs, my feet dangling high over the water that trailed beneath the tree. It danced its way between the two lands, turning the numerous bends as it gradually headed out to sea.

The moon’s reflection wrinkled and warped, the stars winking within the ripples and gurgling bubbles. This tree hadn’t always been here, though it’d been here far longer than I had. Long ago, two gigantic bridges kept Nodoya and its mystical kingdoms of Sinshell and Vordane joined—its people united.

They said we were once a whole. Though something told me that wasn’t precisely true, else there would never have been such a divide. A crack was all we needed to create a chasm. And a chasm would only grow and deepen over time.

Staring down into the ravine widened from war and hatred, the rotted remains of wood and stone from decimated ships and a long-ago bridge, I cursed and brushed my hand beneath my nose, willing my eyes to dry. I’d known since I was a youngling that I’d be forced to marry and likely before I was ready, but I had never dared to think it would turn out like this.

That most suitors would be dead—and the only one who remained was human.

It wasn’t that I hated the idea of marrying a human. Quite the opposite. Prince Bron was handsome. He carried himself with an air of nonchalance that struggled to veil his arrogance. He was lean and tall with deep brown hair struck through with streaks of gold from his many days spent outdoors hunting and training in the sun. The few times I’d seen him, he was wearing a smile that never failed to make the heart stall a beat.

I’d spent countless hours afterward trying to capture the way that smile touched his dark eyes on my pad of parchment, never quite satisfied I’d gotten it right. He’d seldom even looked my way. Though when he had, his lips had lowered and flattened, eyes assessing.