Book three in a spellbinding YA fantasy saga that will plunge you into a world where fantasy and reality collide.
A magical princess in an amazing castle, Haylwen has finally found her true home. Having to wade through the social mud though, is driving her crazy. It's not the middle ages, after all. But old customs seem to die really slowly. The politics to confirm her father as king shoves her to the side, even pushing her to lie. Why should she have to hide all she's done, just because she's a girl?
As much as she wants to help her father, she can't sit around and do nothing. Faustas is chasing her, and no one is willing to rescue her giant friend Vora. Haylwen's had enough. She can't pretend to be a weak, meek little girl, not even for the dreamy Rivenwake. She is who she is.
However, with powerful magic users working against her, following her instincts may not be the smartest plan. And then there’s the dragons - pulling the strings, and unwilling to hide anymore. When the three clans burst out, the world will never be the same.
With a mysterious prophecy, magical secrets and a lot more dragons, We The Three is the third book following siblings Haylwen and Cadarn as they face their fears and come to discover they have powers they never dreamt of — and a destiny only they can fulfill.
About the Author
To young C. H. MacLean, books were everything: mind-food, friends, and fun. They gave the shy middle child’s life color and energy. Amazingly, not everyone saw them that way. Seeing a laundry hamper full of books approach her, the librarian scolded C. H. for trying to check them all out. “You'll never read that many before they expire!” C. H. was surprised, having shown great restraint only by keeping a list of books to check out next time. Thoroughly abashed, C. H. waited three whole days after finishing that lot before going back for more. With an internal world more vivid than the real one, C. H. was chastised for reading in the library instead of going to class. “Neurotic, needs medical help,” the teacher diagnosed. C. H.'s father, a psychologist, just laughed when he heard. “She's just upset because those books are more challenging than her class.” C. H. realized making up stories was just as fun as reading, and harder to get caught doing. So for a while, C. H. crafted stories and characters out of wisps and trinkets, with every toy growing an elaborate personality. But toys were not mature, and stories weren't respectable for a family of doctors. So C. H. grew up and learned to read serious books and study hard, shelving foolish fantasies for serious work. Years passed in a black and white blur. Then, unpredictably falling in love all the way to a magical marriage rattled C. H.'s orderly world. A crazy idea slipped in a resulting crack and wouldn't leave. “Write the book you want to read,” it said. “Write? As in, a fantasy novel? But I'm not creative,” C. H. protested. The idea, and C. H.'s spouse, rolled their eyes. So one day, C. H. started writing. Just to try it, not that it would go anywhere. Big mistake. Decades of pent-up passion started pouring out, making a mess of an orderly life. It only got worse. Soon, stories popped up everywhere- in dreams, while exercising, or out of spite, in the middle of a work meeting. “But it's not important work,” C. H. pleaded weakly. “They are not food, or friends, or...” But it was too late. C. H. had re-discovered that, like books, life should be fun too. Now, writing is a compulsion, and a calling. C. H. lives in a Pacific Northwest forest with five cats, two kids, one spouse, and absolutely no dragons or elves, faeries, or demons… that are willing to be named, at least. ***Overcome Reality. Invigorate Dreams.***