For Derek,

husband, business manager, arm candy.

In loving memory of my mother,

Jeanette Starnes.

You gave me my love for books

and the written word.

I wish we’d had more time. I miss you.

For my dad,

Joseph Starnes,

who proudly tells everyone

that his little girl writes books.

Love you, Dad.

To my amazing agent, Kristin Nelson. You always go above and beyond the call of duty, and I can write secure in the knowledge that you’ve got my back. Thank you for everything.

To my wonderful editor, Anne Sowards. Thank you for believing and for giving my books a loving home.

To Linnea Sinclair, romantic sci-fi author extraordinaire, book-promo genius, mentor, and gal pal. Thank you for always being there for me.

To Aleta Rafton, astounding cover artist. Thank you for bringing Raine to vibrant life.

To editorial assistant Cameron Dufty and Ace publicist Valerie Cortes. Thank you for all of your hard work.

“Once again I’m glad I’m not welcome in polite society,” I muttered.

Phaelan grunted in agreement. My cousin wasn’t welcome in polite society, either, but for a different reason. He was a pirate. Excuse me, seafaring businessman. I was a seeker. Among some magic users, seeking didn’t rate much higher than pirating. I didn’t care what some magic users thought.

There had to be a better way to spend our first day on the Isle of Mid than listening to overeducated mage professors making long-winded speeches, but our guards hadn’t asked us what we wanted.