Novels by Intana Meisya

Gideon's POV The camp smelled like smoke and wet earth, and for the first time since the war began, it smelled like we might actually win. I stood on the ridge overlooking the valley, watching our banners push another quarter mile into their territory. Beside me stood Karrow, a newly knighted soldier who had earned his title barely a month before this campaign began. He still carried himself like someone trying to prove he belonged among the men who had spent years wearing armor, but he had a habit of staying close whenever I was near. "They're falling back again," Karrow said. "Third time today." "Don't get comfortable," I said. "Falling back isn't the same as breaking." "Feels like breaking." "Feels like a lot of things right before it isn't." Karrow glanced at me, then gave a small laugh. He was young. Too young to understand that battles often looked won right before they turned into something else entirely. Confidence killed more knights than swords did. Still, I let mys

Rebecca's POV The first reports from the border came two weeks after the army left. I was in the throne room reviewing petitions when a messenger arrived, mud-splattered and exhausted. He dropped to one knee and held out a sealed letter. I took it with hands that didn't shake only because I forced them to stay steady. The seal was Gideon's. The handwriting inside was his too, neat and controlled despite being written in what was probably a battlefield tent. "Your Majesty, The first engagement was successful. We broke through their defensive line and pushed them back to the valley. Casualties were minimal on our side. Theirs were significant. Karl Jasmere and his sister Vanessa have been recovered. Both are alive and unharmed. They're being escorted back to the palace under guard and should arrive within the week. We're advancing on their main camp. Resistance is heavy but manageable. The men are in good spirits. I'll write again when there's more to report. Commander Gideon

Rebecca's POV The first week after they left, I kept busy. The council met every morning to review supply chains and trade agreements that couldn't wait for the war to end. Nobles needed audiences, petitions needed reviewing, and the palace required a functioning government even with half its military gone. I threw myself into the work with a focus that surprised even me. Every decision, every signature, every judgment was a way to keep my mind from wandering to the border, to the fighting, to Gideon standing in the middle of it all with nothing but steel and strategy between him and a blade. But my body had other plans. The nausea started on the eighth day. I woke before dawn with my stomach churning, barely making it to the basin before everything came up. I knelt there on the cold floor, shaking, trying to convince myself it was stress or bad food or anything other than what I suspected. The next morning was the same. And the morning after that. On the eleventh day, I missed

Rebecca's POV I stood at the gates as dawn broke over the palace, the pale light casting long shadows across the assembled army. The knights lined up in perfect formation, their armor gleaming, their faces set with the particular expression men wore when they knew what was coming and had made peace with it. Behind them, the supply wagons waited, loaded with provisions and medical equipment that I hoped would be enough. The former Queen stood to my right, her posture rigid, her hands clasped in front of her. She had done this before, sent men to war, watched them leave and wondered which ones would return. I could see it in the way she held herself, the careful distance she maintained from anything that might crack her composure. Maddie was on my left, her face pale but determined. Kalali stood slightly behind us, her expression unreadable. She had offered to go with the army, to serve as their field alchemist, but I'd refused. I needed her here. I needed someone who understood pot

Rebecca's POV The war room smelled like parchment and steel. I stood near the window while Gideon hunched over the center table, mapping out routes with several senior knights. His fingers moved across the territory markers with practiced certainty, but I noticed the way his jaw stayed locked, the tension radiating through his shoulders. "The third battalion will hold the eastern pass," Gideon said, tapping a ridge on the map. "Second battalion supports from the valley. We push through before dawn and cut off their supply line." "What about their archer positions?" one of the knights asked. "We take those out first. Silent approach, no torches. Then the cavalry moves in." I watched him work, the way he commanded without raising his voice, the way the other men leaned in to catch every word. This was the version of Gideon the realm knew. The Iron Wolf. The man who had never lost a battle. But I knew the other version too. The one who let his guard down around me, who lingered a

Rebecca's POV The council chamber felt smaller than it should have, the walls pressing in as the argument built. Lord Cailen's voice cut through the noise, sharp and dismissive. "War," he said, leaning forward over the map spread across the table. "The point is clear. The King across the border has been waiting for an excuse, and now he has one." Another councilmember, a younger lord with a thin face and too much confidence, nodded sharply. "This isn't about the border anymore. It's about the entire kingdom. If we don't respond, they'll see it as weakness. They'll push further." I stood at the head of the table, my hands braced against the edge of the map, staring down at the lines and markers that meant nothing to me and everything to them. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "There has to be another way," I said. "Something other than war." The room went quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant I'd said something brilliant. The kind that meant I'd said something they were a

Years later...The wedding vows that had been taken, would always be the binding between us. We had built a prosperous and peaceful family together during our ten years of marriage.I am grateful to have two children, Adrian and Skylar.Adrian Ainsley, aged nine, had become an older brother who loves his younger sister, Skylar. He really became a big brother for her.His face is not the same bit as mine, but with his father. Sometimes I got annoyed by comments from people who never realized my resemblance to him.They often said that none of my children look like me. Even my lovely baby, Skylar. She's 99 percent like her father, only different genders."Look mom, I have a new word to tell you." Adrian came over to me with his favorite basketball between his right arm.I don't know where his hobbies come from, but he really likes playing basketball. Barra and I don't

He doesn't understand!He doesn't get it at all!My thoughts about marriage had changed. If I used to think of a beautiful wedding like in the world of fairy tale, now I wasn't thinking the same anymore. I became to think differently. I was terrified just thinking about marriage.Especially after clearly knowing the details of what happened in past. My own parents' marriage did not go smoothly.It was so toxic and full of cruel twists. Rose Ozza, my mother, or Yolanda may be strong in facing their ordeal, but it was different for me. I got fragile easily and now I scared so much.I was afraid that Barra would leave me for a better and worthy one. I got so fed up just thinking about other women had the edge over me.I'm a woman and of course, wanting the same thing all women wants, to get married.A sacred event that I wanted to happen once in my life and with the ri

All problems had found a bright spot. Then what now?Haytham and Alia had returned to their mansion and living their lives as before.I gave Ronald and Elsa a day off as a token of gratitude for helping me all this time, while Jake ... that guy was busy running his single life by becoming a player. He dated different women every week, I didn't even know their names.As for Jazzlin, I asked her to stay with me, in the mansion. Everything felt lonely when she was not there, around me. So, we decided to stay together from now on.I looked at her whole face. She looked innocent with her eyes closed. I pushed aside the strands of hair when it covered her face, then looked at her again.A smile appeared on my face, imagining how lucky I was to finally with her again.I put my head on the pillow, tilted my face closer to her.Her breath blew to me as her hand was right in

"Principessa?" Barra's voice assured me that I'm still alive.I was so limp as I opened my eyes. My hand had its way to my face. I shut my mouth closed while I yawned."Glad to see you wake up again." His words made me chuckle."Hmmm, you're still waiting for me? I thought Moorah already stole you from me."His face frowned when I mentioned Moorah's name, "I'm just kidding." I laughed out loud, "Besides, I know who you love. That person is me and not another woman."He gave me his best smile, "Oh yeah?" His finger poked my nose."Auch! Stop it." I tried to reach his finger. The more I couldn't get it, the more he kept teasing me. He kept poking my nose, every time I tried to stop him.He chuckled, "I win and you lose." He told me then showing me his thumbs down."I hate you." Hearing my answer, he moved closer to me. He pulled the strands of my hair

It was like dejavu. I brought her back to my mansion. It was like the old time, I sat waiting for her to wake up.The last time she was unconscious was because she attempted suicide. I didn't realize she'd woken up again, but with someone else's spirit, Janielle.Now she was unconscious again, and I gripped her soft hand with hope filled my heart.The doctor said she was just passed out, but it had been hours and she hadn't opened her beautiful eyes yet.I remembered how terrified I got when I was told that she was unconscious because she had tried to kill herself.At that time the feeling of regret got me. I wasn't there when she needed me. Then now, I was by her side and still couldn't take care of her.(Flashback to chapter one from Barra's point of view)It had been a long time since I met my old friend, Jazzlin Ozza. The news about the woman was circulating in

I had to tell my truth to Jazzlin's father, so he would forgive his daughter. He used to love her so much, but because of this ... everything had changed.Haytham insisted on joining us to Jeremy Ozza's penthouse, even though at first Barra didn't want him there. They both tried to dominate each other, but they just ended up falling in a cold war for a moment.When I was right in front of the penthouse, my palms got cold. I rubbed my itchy eyes then prepared myself once more.I was so restless and it really made me want to pee. Before the others got inside, I had already rushed in there to find a restroom.I went into one of the restrooms and immediately peed. The sound of footsteps made me stop my next action."Jazzlin, are you in there?"My lips pouted when I noticed it was Moorah.For God's sake, I don't like her so why does she keep walking around in my life ?

Tiffany's POV I had two choices, and neither one of them ended well. I could let Scars open that door, see my face, and destroy everything I had worked so hard to protect. My identity, my cover, Lucas’s cover, and the entire operation would be exposed before we even had the chance to finish what we started. Or I could drop the tray, make it look like a careless mistake, and pray Jacquelline did not fire me on my first day. Getting fired would ruin the current mission, but it was something we could recover from. We could find another way inside and rebuild the plan. Being exposed was different. Once Scars knew who I was, there would be no recovering from it. Everything we had worked for would be over. So I made my choice. The moment the door handle started to turn, I loosened my grip. The tray slipped from my hands before the door could fully open. The crash exploded through the hallway, far too loud for a simple accident. The coffees spilled first, followed by the plates and

Tiffany’s POV Mrs. Bennett walked ahead of me without saying a word. Her heels clicked against the floor, her posture just as perfect as before. I studied her from behind. She looked like the type of person who had worked in this house for decades. Someone who knew every secret hidden behind every door. That made her just as important to watch as Jacquelline herself. People like Mrs. Bennett didn’t stay in a place like this by accident. They stayed because they were trusted. Which meant I needed to be careful around her. We reached another staircase leading to the third floor, and the difference was obvious the second we stepped onto it. The staff became fewer, the house became quieter, and the two guards stationed near the hallway entrance made one thing clear: this part of the house wasn’t meant for everyone. Mrs. Bennett stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. “This will be your room.” She unlocked it and pushed the door open. The room was far nicer than I

Tiffany's POV The flight felt like a blur after that. A few hours later, we were sitting in the back of a cab, driving through the familiar, rain-soaked streets of Riverton. My hometown. The place I swore I would never come back to. I slipped one earbud into my right ear and rested my head against the cold window. Then I pressed play on my phone, letting Djo’s “End of Beginning” fill the silence. The song had a strange way of making you think about places you used to belong to. Places you missed. Places you thought you had already moved on from. But being back here brought a heaviness I wasn’t prepared for. Every familiar corner, every passing building, carried memories I had tried my best not to think about. I focused on the music instead, letting it drown out the voices around me and give my mind something else to hold on to. I needed that. Because Riverton wasn’t just the city where I grew up. It was the city that remembered every version of me I had tried so hard to f

Lucas’s POV My eyes cracked open to the low hum of machines and the faint sting of antiseptic lingering in the air. My shoulder throbbed with a deep, burning pain, a brutal reminder of where the bullet had gone through. I didn’t even need to move to know every small motion was going to hurt like hell. So I stayed still for a moment, letting my instincts kick in before my brain fully caught up. I scanned the room automatically. White walls. Steady beeping from the monitors. The door shut tight. One chair pulled close beside my bed. Mercer was sitting there, his elbows resting on his knees, watching me like he hadn’t moved in hours. I let out a rough breath and tried pushing myself up with my good arm. The second I moved, pain ripped through my shoulder. My vision blurred for a moment, and my entire body reminded me exactly how much damage I had taken. “Shit.” “Easy there, Sparky,” Mercer said, his voice low and exhausted. “You’re in a hospital, not a prison. You don’t need to

Tiffany’s POV The next morning, I found myself standing inside the airport terminal with my duffel bag hanging from my shoulder. I pulled out the new phone Mercer had given me and checked his message for what had to be the fifth time. His instructions had been simple. 'Meet Detective Summer Abrams near Gate 12.' Except apparently, finding one specific person in an airport filled with thousands of travelers was not nearly as easy as Mercer made it sound. The problem was not just the crowd. It was the thoughts. Airports were basically torture for someone like me. Everywhere I looked, someone’s mind was shouting something. [Please don’t let my luggage be overweight.][Did I lock the front door? I definitely locked it. Right?][If my flight gets delayed again, I’m going to lose it.][Why is this line moving so slowly? The person in front of me has been standing there forever.][Should I buy a sandwich? No, it’s too expensive. But I’m hungry. Okay, maybe just the sandwich.] It wa

Tiffany’s POV I stared at the folder in front of me like it might bite me. “No. I’m not going back to Riverton.” Mercer didn’t react. He just watched me carefully. I didn’t have to read his mind to know he was expecting me to fight him on this. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Tiffany, but it’s the only option I have right now,” he said. “You can’t read Scars, but your gift hasn’t disappeared. It still works on everyone else. Even Jacquelline.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Riverton had been hard. The interrogation rooms. The criminals sitting across from me while their thoughts revealed everything they refused to say out loud. The things I heard. The things I couldn’t forget. But the truth was, I had been dealing with other people’s darkness long before I became a detective. I remembered being a kid and hearing my mother come home drunk late at night. I remembered the anger in her thoughts before she ever opened her mouth. She hated my ability. She hated that I co

Olivia's POV "I handle it fine," I said. "You're the one following me outside." Jolie walked forward until she was standing a few feet away. She took a sip of her wine, her movements precise and controlled. "Gabriel is a good man," she said. "He deserves someone who understands his world. Someone who has been part of it." "Someone like you," I said flatly. "Yes." Jolie didn't even try to hide it. "We grew up together. Our families built empires side by side. I know him. I know what he needs." "You know what everyone expects him to need," I corrected. "That's not the same thing." Jolie's smile was thin. "You are a distraction. An entertaining one, I will admit. But Gabriel will tire of the noise. He always does." "Then you have nothing to worry about," I said. I turned to face her fully. "If I'm just noise, if I'm just a distraction, then why are you out here threatening me?" "I am not threatening you. I am simply making sure you understand the parameters of whatever game you

Olivia's POV I was on my third glass of champagne when Marguerite appeared beside me. She hoisted herself onto the barstool with surprising agility for someone her age, waving away the bartender's attempt to help. "That woman is a leech," she announced. I didn't have to ask who she meant. I could still see Gabriel and Jolie on the dance floor, her hand on his chest, his face carved from stone. "She's known him longer than I have," I said. The champagne was making my words looser than I wanted. "She has history." "History is just another word for baggage that should have been thrown out years ago," Marguerite said. She snapped her fingers at the bartender. "Cognac. The 1952. Do not pretend you do not have it." The bartender's eyes widened. He disappeared into the back room. Marguerite turned to me, her sharp eyes scanning my face. "You are upset." "I'm fine." "You are a terrible liar. For an actress, that is concerning." I let out a breath that was half laugh, half something

Olivia's POV His grandmother's eyes widened. Then she laughed. It was a bright, cackling sound that made several people turn to look. "I like her," she declared. She reached for my hand and pulled me closer, ignoring Gabriel completely. Gabriel cleared his throat. "Grand-mère, this is Olivia Rayne," he said. "Olivia, this is my grandmother, Marguerite." "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Moreau," I said, smiling politely. "Please, call me Grand-mère," Marguerite said, her eyes twinkling. "And you are the actress, yes? The one who sings the song about the man who cannot appreciate her." "That's most of my discography," I admitted. Marguerite laughed again, loud and infectious. "Come. Sit with me. I want to hear about how you met my grandson. He has been a stone for too long. It is good to see him with someone who has fire." Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Marguerite was already pulling me toward a table near the front. I glanced back at him. He looked like he was calculating the f

Olivia's POV I woke up to forty-three texts from my publicist and a very formal email from someone named “Margot Blanchet, Personal Assistant to Mr. Gabriel Moreau.” Before I could open it, my phone kept vibrating. The first text was from Sasha.Sasha: Livvie. You and Gabriel Moreau??? Please tell me this is real. I need details and emotional support snacks. The second was from Pedro.Pedro: Remember when you said you wanted a challenge? Congratulations. You picked the final boss. Jolie Seraphine is trending and I regret every warning I ever gave you. I scrolled, waiting for one more name to pop up. Nothing. Of course. Brittany wasn’t a morning person. She never was. Then I finally opened the email. It was three sentences long. "Miss Rayne, a selection of appropriate gala attire will arrive at 2 PM. Please be ready for hair and makeup at 4 PM. Mr. Moreau will collect you at 6:30 PM sharp." I read it three times, looking for a single word that wasn't dipped in frost. There was

Olivia's POV Jolie froze. I caught her reflection in the polished surface of the table. Her perfect mask was finally cracking. She looked at Gabriel's hand on the back of my neck and then at the way I was draped across the table like a prize he had no intention of sharing. "I just wanted to ask about the gala tomorrow," Jolie said. Her voice was thin. "My father expected you to escort me as usual. He said the seating arrangements were already finalized." Gabriel slowly turned his head. He didn't let go of my neck. His thumb continued to trace slow, distracting circles against my skin. I felt my heart hammer against my ribs. This wasn't acting. Or if it was, he was much better at it than I gave him credit for. "Your father should have checked with my assistant," Gabriel said. He sounded bored. "I have other plans for the gala. I assume your friend with the property development interests can fill the vacancy." The man at Jolie’s table looked over. He looked like he wanted to say so

Olivia's POV The following week was a blur of strategically leaked "candid" shots and frantic phone calls from my label. Gabriel was a man of his word, which meant he was a man of very few words and very high expectations. He had dictated the terms of our first public appearance like he was brokering a peace treaty. No club. No tequila. Just a "quiet" dinner at a restaurant so exclusive it didn't even have a sign on the door. I sat in the back of his town car, smoothing the skirt of my dress. It was silk, the color of a bruised plum, and clung to every curve. I had traded the leather jacket for a tailored cashmere coat. I looked like a woman who knew the difference between a salad fork and a fish fork, even if I usually used neither. Gabriel sat next to me, his laptop open on his knees. He hadn't looked at me since I climbed in. "You know, usually when a man picks up a woman for a date, he tells her she looks nice," I said, leaning over to peek at his screen. "Or at least acknowl