Title: The Heart's Retreat
Series: Hearts’ Domain, Book One
Author: Shannon Blair
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 10/06/2026
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 395
Genre: Fantasy, voyeurism, fantasy, elves, gods, werewolves, wolves, menage, polyamory, reconciliation, trans, pansexual, demisexual, neurodivergent, romantasy, magic
Gar has served his native swamplands as a soldier for almost half his life. Chosen to lead one last attempt to locate Aspen, he fears the dangers lurking in the woodlands’ corrupted depths will claim his life—and those of the soldiers under his command. But abandoning the mission means watching an entire forest burn. Bolstered by his faith in the swamplands’ divine Heart, Cypress, his conscience demands he carry on.
Sage, a magically gifted healer charged with holding Aspen’s corruption at bay from his village, is no stranger to the horrors of his Heart. Neither is his estranged husband, Thorn. A seasoned hunter with the uncanny ability to sense werewolves before they attack, Thorn puts his skills to the test and his life on the line to support the search for Aspen. Sage, choosing love over loyalty to his village, lends his strength as a latecomer to the expedition, lighting the way when hope seems lost. Reunited after a separation stemming from the loss of their stillborn daughter, their shared journey to save their homeland just might lead to reconciliation—if death doesn’t part them first.
As they traverse the corrupted forest’s treacherous terrain, Sage and Thorn forge a bond with Gar that transcends simple friendship. Seeking solace from their troubled pasts and uncertain futures, their boundaries break down and the dividing lines between them blur. But with bloodthirsty werewolves watching every move, their budding romance threatens to become a fatal distraction.
Shannon Blair © 2026
All Rights Reserved
Commander Gar stood on the barge’s deck, leaning against the railing as they sailed into the river port of Taproot, capital city of Cypress’s Domain. If he had to guess, he’d put the hour well past midnight, but the docks and their neighboring fish market bustled with activity. Weathered lantern posts standing along the dock’s edge illuminated the port and its workers. Dockhands—mostly his fellow swamp elves, with thick, water-repellent hair in shades of bright teal to dark green and skin tones ranging from light bronze to burnt umber—rushed back and forth, overseeing the departures and arrivals of fishing boats, trading vessels, and now one very delayed passenger barge.
The barge had gotten stuck on a sandbar somewhere upstream and only fallen further behind schedule with each passing stop. The early morning embarkation Gar and his unit had planned had been pushed back to late afternoon—frustrating for everyone involved, but at least they hadn’t been stuck aboard as long as some of the other passengers. Under normal circumstances, the delay would’ve been a minor inconvenience, but a soldier under Gar’s command had gotten their leg crushed in the jaws of a magically mutated alligator and needed specialized healing soon, or they risked losing the limb.
Gar leaned farther over the railing as the barge pulled into its berth, dockhands and crew working in tandem to make the landing as gentle as possible. Despite the late hour, a small crowd had begun to gather on the dock—friends and family waiting to greet their loved ones. He scanned the faces and clothes of those gathered, searching for someone with medical or military training among the civilians. Normally, no one waited for Gar, but he’d sent a messenger bird ahead at the first sign of delay—technically an unauthorized use of military funds, but he’d foot the bill himself if his superiors objected—so someone should be there to meet him.
Beside him, his second-in-command, Bluegill, sighed. “We better not have beaten the fucking bird here.” Nearly a head shorter than Gar, she stood at her full height to survey the crowd, turquoise eyes narrowed in an appraising squint. “Mallow’s waited long enough. If we’re expected to carry them all the way through the city—”
“Give it time, Blue. Gangway’s not even down yet.” Gar straightened and stretched, fighting back a yawn. Just because it wasn’t obvious at a glance didn’t mean no one was there for them. And worst-case scenario, he and his unit could carry Mallow. It would simply be awkward and uncomfortable.
Bluegill let out a discontented hum, impatiently running her umber fingers through her chin-length teal hair. But she didn’t argue. Under the complaints and sharp remarks, she cared for the rest of Gar’s unit as deeply as he did. Even non-lethal casualties hit her hard. He could let her have this one.
As the gangway dropped into place, a masculine elf wearing the crisp, white linens of a temple acolyte—not a priest, his eyes and hands were elven—pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Before the barge’s passengers could begin to disembark, he crossed onto the deck, offering a polite but disinterested nod to those he passed. His distracted gaze sharpened when it landed on Gar and Bluegill. Gar wondered why they’d caught his attention. They stood out among the other passengers in their long-sleeved field uniforms and boiled leather armor, but that couldn’t be the only reason.
“Commander Gar?” The acolyte called out, eyes flickering between Gar and Bluegill.
Gar raised a hand. “Over here.” He understood the acolyte’s confusion. Cypress’s Domain was a matriarchy; outside the military, it was rare to see a man in a position of authority. In any other career, Gar would be Bluegill’s subordinate.
The acolyte responded with a grateful nod and continued weaving through the crowd toward Gar.
While he waited, Gar exchanged a confused glance with Bluegill, trying to figure out why a temple acolyte, of all people, had come here looking for him. The messenger bird must have arrived ahead of the barge, or no one would’ve known to expect him, but he didn’t understand how military correspondence could’ve ended up at a temple. Maybe someone had misread his message and thought he needed funeral services instead of a healer?
The acolyte came to an abrupt stop a few paces away from Gar, the corners of his mouth slowly turning downward as he looked Gar over. “Hardly presentable, but it’ll have to do,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, but what will I ‘have to do’ for?” Gar and his unit were fresh from a monster-hunting expedition, and he hadn’t bathed in days. He wasn’t going to impress anyone in this condition, but he didn’t know why he’d need to.
“High Priest Azalea has need of you. You are to meet her in her sanctum beneath Mother Cypress.”
Gar blinked at him, certain he’d heard wrong. “The high priest…needs me?”
“Yes.” The acolyte’s expression softened. “I realize how strange this must seem, but there are…extenuating circumstances.”
“When’s the meeting?”
“Hours ago, ideally. But now will have to suffice. She’s been waiting for you.”
Gar tried not to gape. High priests didn’t wait for anyone, especially a field commander like him. If she’d planned to meet with Gar without even knowing when to expect him, something earth-shaking must have happened, but no one on the docks seemed any the wiser. He guessed he’d find out more when he got there.
“Then I’ll go now,” Gar replied. “But I have an injured soldier belowdecks. Their leg’s hurt bad, and they need—”
Bluegill cut him off with a bump of her elbow. “I’ll take it from here, Commander. Just get to the Heart.”
The acolyte nodded and turned his attention to Bluegill. “Whatever you require, I’m happy to assist.”
Gar left them to it, heart racing as he jostled through the crowd of passengers making their way off the barge.
