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Divine by Choice

Cover of Divine by Choice

Divine by Choice

by P.C. Cast
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Shannon Parker has finally come to terms with life in the mythical world of Partholon. She loves her centaur husband, her connection to the goddess Epona and the pampering that comes with both! She's almost forgotten her old life on Earth--especially when she discovers she's pregnant....

Then a sudden burst of power sends her back to Oklahoma. Without magic, Shannon can't return to Partholon--and so she needs to find help. Trouble is, it might take the form of a man as tempting as her husband. And along the way she'll discover that being divine by mistake is a lot easier than being divine by choice....


Shannon Parker has finally come to terms with life in the mythical world of Partholon. She loves her centaur husband, her connection to the goddess Epona and the pampering that comes with both! She's almost forgotten her old life on Earth--especially when she discovers she's pregnant....

Then a sudden burst of power sends her back to Oklahoma. Without magic, Shannon can't return to Partholon--and so she needs to find help. Trouble is, it might take the form of a man as tempting as her husband. And along the way she'll discover that being divine by mistake is a lot easier than being divine by choice....
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    Like ink running down a sheet of black paper, the darkness at the edge of my vision wavered, sending a chill of foreboding shivering across my skin. What the hell? I peered into the shadows. Nothing. Just an empty, starless night that had turned cold and windy.

    Clearly I was losing my friggin mind.

    The Fomorian War had been over for months. No winged demons lurked about waiting to pounce on me. I mean, please, I was in the middle of my own temple, which, despite its beauty, had been built as a fortress. Even had some kind of freaky monster been loose upon the world (and in this world, one never knew), I was more than perfectly safe. Seriously, I was in more danger of being pampered and adored to death than I was being monster-grabbed. Yet I still had the awful "someone just walked over my grave" feeling. And tonight wasn't the first time I'd felt as if something was wrong.

    As I followed the marble path that led to the monument I thought about the weird sense of foreboding I seemed to be carrying around with me. Had it been weeks? Damn! Now that I really thought about it I realized that it had been at least two or three weeks that I'd been feeling off. I'd definitely been off my food, which was bizarre in its own right because I seriously love food. But a lingering stomach virus and/or stress could account for that. What was most odd was the way I'd been jumping at shadows. And the shadows seemed dark and thick and filled with something definitely malevolent.

    Okay yes, I'd just been through a truly awful war in which the good guys (naturally, the ones on my side) had to battle horrid demonic creatures and save the world from enslavement and annihilation. Literally. And yes, that could make a girl slightly jumpy. Especially if the girl was really a high school English teacher from Oklahoma who had accidentally been exchanged for the Beloved Incarnate of a Goddess in a world that more closely resembled a weird mixture of ancient Scotland and mythological Greece than Broken Arrow, Oklahoma (a lovely suburb of Tulsa). All true. But the war was over. The demons extinguished, and (supposedly) all was right with the world. So why did I feel like the damn booger monster was out there in the darkness waiting to leap on me?

    Jeesh, I had another headache.

    When I got to the MacCallan's memorial I tried to still my roiling thoughts by breathing deeply and savoring the peace and serenity that always blanketed me when I visited it. Tall, graceful columns ringed a three-stepped marble dais, whereon an ornately carved pedestal stood as the resting place for a weighty urn that was kept perpetually filled with sweet-scented, forever-burning oil.

    Tonight the silver-gray smoke curled lazily up through the circular hole in the domed roof. I walked slowly toward the urn, enjoying the way the brilliant yellow flame contrasted with the backdrop of the starless night's sky. I had specified that the monument be built with no walls, just columns, a dome and this ever-burning flame. I believe the man memorialized here would have liked the freedom it symbolized.

    A breeze stirred my hair and I shivered. The cool air was almost moist. I was glad I'd let Alanna bully me into wearing my ermine-lined cloak, even though the memorial was only a short walk from my chambers.

    "Lady Rhiannon!" A young maiden rushed between the columns on the far side of the edifice. She paused long enough to drop almost to the floor in a fluid curtsy. "May I bring you some warmed wine? The night has become chilly."

    "No." Distracted, I barely glanced at her, quickly searching my memory for her name, "Maura. I don't need...

About the Author-
  • P.C. Cast was born in the Midwest, and grew up between Illinois and Oklahoma, which is where she fell in love with Quarter Horses and mythology (at about the same time). After high school she joined the United States Air Force. After her tour in the USAF, she taught high school before writing full time. Ms. Cast is a New York Times Best-Selling author and a member of the Oklahoma Writers Hall of Fame. Ms. Cast lives in Oklahoma with her fabulous daughter, her spoil

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