Fans of enemies-to-lovers romance and epic dragon-filled fantasy will be swept into Le Fay’s Wings of Life, where duty, danger, and forbidden desire collide.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Wings of Life by Meghan Le Fay, which releases on May 26th 2026.
They cast me off to Rihtlond as a bride.
They don’t care if I come back alive.
Too sharp-tongued and too curious, I am my mother’s greatest lament and my father’s constant frustration. Unwilling to bow to their will, I’ve become expendable, worth sending on a mission doomed to fail.
Armed with nothing but a coded journal, a quill, and my wits, I’m thrust into the kingdom of our oldest enemy—a land of storms and warriors—to wed their high dane’s son. Trapped on their ruthless continent, I am no blushing bride. I’m a spy sent to unlock Rihtlond’s weaknesses… a cuckoo in the robin’s nest.
But my heart still bleeds red when the weaponmaster of these strange people steals it away. Through him, I learn to unlock their secrets. What I uncover is more dangerous than I ever imagined: magic thrumming in the roots of Rihtlond, a dragon hidden in plain sight, and a love I was never meant to feel. Holding this knowledge, I am meant to return home and bind myself to a future I was given long ago.
Now, as war rises and alliances crumble, I must choose between duty and desire, between the family who cast me aside and the bond that awakens who I truly am. To protect what I’ve found—and who I become—I must risk everything. Even if it brands me a traitor. Even if it costs me my life.
Prelude
I know a land beyond the sea,
Where all the live ones came to be;
I know a tide with waters deep,
Where all the monsters go to sleep.
I know a mountain, standing tall,
Where spirits hide from Death’s dark call;
I know a hole within the ground,
Where small ones live without a sound.
If I could be the swirling breeze,
I’d sneak betwixt the swaying trees,
And fill my time ‘til end of days,
With deep, dank night and leaf-masked rays.
Yet would I miss the blinding sun—
Her sparkling rays that banish dun?
Would I lament the crisp salt air,
Should I retreat without a care?
How little can my mind contrive,
The right things my heart needs to thrive.
Prologue
Bale, Midsummer, Jerrmon 1036
Eleven months, two weeks, four days, and probably two and a half hours. It had been too fucking long since I had seen my family. There was no chance of making it home in the next month, let alone a week. The king’s army did not recognize birthdays, so it did not matter that one week from today would be mine. It also didn’t matter that I’d never before been apart from Serae on our shared birthday. We weren’t twins. I was four years her senior and just lucky enough to share the day with my youngest sister—my little starling.
Not that Serae was little anymore. A few years ago, I’d returned home from school to find that she had grown taller than our mother—just a few inches below my own head. She was a full-fledged woman of twenty-one, soon to be twenty-two, with a temper as wild as her rust-colored hair.
Being sent to this hellhole was one of the worst turns my life had taken, not that it mattered to our jackass of a father. Everything with the margrave was posturing, and this time, it meant gambling my very life.
“Officer Cavendaffe, this way.”
I mock saluted in the direction of the voice but did not glance over. It was Penderson, the senior officer in my section whose crooked teeth and superior-than-thou attitude were the last things I cared to play witness to today. I knew Penderson from school. Though he was two years my senior, we had the misfortune to cross paths regularly thanks to common clubs and overlapping interests. That wasn’t enough to make me like the man, or even respect him. With an instinctual response one could only gain through countless hours of mind-numbing drills, I fell into line with the rest of the section—neat rows of four across—and marched.
As we walked, my mind drifted away from my sister and to a very different female who had been plaguing me. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I couldn’t look away. It wasn’t sexual, but I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t explain. Something about her sucked men in like a siren’s call. The mere sight of her terrified me to my very core.
She had hair as black as onyx, complexion as white as burnt charcoal, and teeth sharp enough to tear through raw flesh. Her eye color was unremarkable. Her face, nothing to inspire the songs of minstrels. Her best feature was a nice, straight nose. And yet, to look upon her was to be consumed. I watched men and women alike get lost in her every move. If my sister was like a starling—full of song, mischief, and something just a little bit sweet—then this woman was a raven of Death, ready to trick you out of your soul, then rip you apart just for fun. She was Captain Qualin Henedew, leader of this regiment and destroyer of scores of men.
Everyone knew that Captain Henedew was in her position, the only woman of rank I’d ever heard of, because of her ruthlessness. She would sacrifice every last one of our lives if she had even an inkling it would benefit her standing. Luckily, more enemies died under her watch than allies. Usually. My only option was to keep my head down, work as hard as I could, and hope that I’d be released home soon—with duty to the crown fulfilled.
It had been close to two months since Henedew had led our regiment off course from our expected mission. Missives of our disappearance would have been sent home to our families by now. What we were doing here was anyone’s guess. We were meant to meet up with a much larger host that secured the channel between Inra and Volaach. That was our task—routine coastal patrol. Not crossing the channel and wandering the barren lands of Volaach. But when the captain commands you to divert, you listen without question.
As if she’d been summoned by my thoughts alone, she appeared on my left. “Fall in,” was all the captain had to say to send men scrambling into order. She never had to raise her voice.
I moved with the rest of the squadron to organize behind Henedew. Where she was taking us was anyone’s guess. It wasn’t my job to ask questions here. My rank outside the militia had little impact on my importance and influence within it. Cavendaffe was not a small province. It controlled a major coastline, and I was its margrave’s oldest son. As the heir, I should be called Lord and treated at least as well as a Major. While I didn’t mind the anonymity of a plain officer, I did mind the added risk to my life.
Our squadron split from the main group, setting a brisk pace to pass the larger part of the regiment. Periodically, Henedew would call out to one section or another to fall in—just like she had with mine. Once she had collected at least two entire squadrons, we split off and took a separate path east. If we were lucky, the captain would take pity on us tonight and share part of her plan. If not, as was likely, we would march blindly into whatever scheme she’d concocted. Whether it was toward something we had a chance at winning was anyone’s guess. The only certainty was that Henedew would always walk away unscathed.
We marched at a brisk pace across the arid Volaachi lands in relative silence for hours, with only one short break. The weather was perfect for a midsummer day, but it was unreasonably warm for being dressed in mail with the sun beating down on us for hours on end. We kept to the larger clearings when not on the wide dirt roads. Every shambled town or cluster of huts we passed had long been abandoned. When the captain called to make camp, a collective sigh rippled across the lines. Tents were pitched, fires were stoked, and bowls of hot stew made their way into eager hands.
Penderson took a seat on the ground next to me, bowl in hand, and ate in slurping silence. After his last drop was drained—in half the time it would take me—he muttered, “What do you reckon?”
I wanted to feign ignorance, but I knew exactly what Penderson was asking. “Nothing,” I replied. If I could speak freely, I would’ve said nothing good, but in camps like this, there were far too many open ears.
“Miloh thinks we’re making a flank.”
My stomach fluttered. “Maybe so. Hard to tell.”
“I haven’t seen signs of any other soldiers coming through here.”
I nodded.
Penderson shot me a sideways glance. After a moment more of scrutiny, he stood and knocked his empty bowl against my half-full one. “Head down.”
“Hold strong,” I replied by rote.
• • •
A full day of marching was followed by another and then another. The land, as we progressed south, became increasingly dry and cracked. Rough soil gave way to packed dirt and scattered rocks. The sparse trees disappeared, leaving only scattered grasses and shrubs. Fresh water was scarce, making tempers flare. Our view of the rest of the king’s forces disappeared after the first day. Our groups had entirely split apart. Perhaps we were creating a flank, after all. It was above my rank to be concerned.
On the third day, we stopped abruptly while the sun still hung high in the sky. Orders from Henedew filtered through the ranks: meal break, then begin fortifications.
“Fortify what?” Penderson grumbled at my side.
“You’re the senior officer,” I drawled. It was his fucking job to find out.
Penderson gave me a look that could’ve meant wait here every bit as much as it might’ve meant go fuck yourself, before he broke rank and advanced up the line.
The rest of us followed orders. Meal today was beans and flatbread. The beans were all right, but the bread was dry and tasteless. At least it wasn’t another round of overcooked and under-seasoned stew. We were permitted a short respite after the meal, then preparations began. Our instructions: hold the line and give up no ground. I looked around. We were on Volaachi soil, if this dusty dirt could be called that. There was nothing but a few dry grasses and rocks. No castle, manor, or even a hill to call advantageous grounds. Just flat nothing in every direction. Judging by the slight breeze and sliver of sea on the east and west horizons, we were midway down the Andragori Peninsula—uninhabited low desert. If we continued south, we’d hit the open ocean. There was no reason any force would come here, friend or foe.
Still, we fortified. We built barricades, drove in cavalry spikes, and laid cover for archers and infantry. By nightfall, everything was prepared.
New orders came down: do not make camp. Stay alert, stay awake, and stay ready.
Henedew. Her name grumbled past every man’s lips, alongside quite a few curses and gendered remarks that’d earn lashings if overheard by their superiors. Unlike most, I took no issue with following a woman’s orders—especially this particular woman. I stayed alert, stretching periodically to keep loose. More than anything, I kept my eyes focused on the horizon.
“There!” I announced, just as Captain Henedew passed by. She turned, and with one nod, confirmed what I’d seen. She looked me up and down, and shivers coursed through my body.
“To arms,” she ordered without looking away.
Shouts from senior officers rang down the line. “All men, up and to arms!”
Within minutes, the entire southern horizon turned black with approaching enemy forces. We were hopelessly outmatched—easily ten to one.
“What are they?” Miloh cried out. His shock echoed up and down the line. The mist that had clung to the army as it moved began to dissipate, revealing the black figures clearly. Grotesque reptilian beasts walked in formation on two legs. Short, flightless wings sprouted from their backs and extended outward. Black, leathery skin stretched over both wings, and scales covered their arms, legs, and faces—glinting in the sunlight like armor.
Penderson returned to my side, taking up point and drawing his sword. I looked away when his hand shook.
“Head down,” I said to no one in particular.
“Hold strong,” Penderson returned through clenched teeth.
“Fuck us all,” Miloh whispered.
If these were to be our last moments, at least we’d face them with courage. My only regrets were a life misspent in obligations and the unshed tears of a sister leagues away—who would celebrate our next birthday, and all of her birthdays to follow, alone.
Excerpted from WINGS OF LIFE © 2026 by Meghan Le Fay. Reprinted with permission from Page & Vine. All rights reserved.
