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A Slight Misunderstanding
publish date:
2025-07-11 21:50:21
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The Alpha King's Breeder Empty Bracelets
ZaynThe arena in Moonrise is full of young men and women–the best of the best, hand-picked by Queen Maeve and her father, Commander Evander of the Ghost forces. The Ghosts mill about in their form-fitting, far more comfortable and sleek uniforms while knights like myself move more clunkily, trying to find pockets of shade while commanders go over their lists and generals, me included, keep our assigned men in check. “General Zayn!” I turn to the shout of Commander Wilcox, who waves me over to where he’s standing with Commander Heatherway. A group of warriors in their wolf forms glide past me at a trot. One of them nearly runs into me, but they skirt out of my way at the last possible second. It’s madness here. Barely organized. Hot as fucking hell. I reach the commanders. Wilcox jumps in immediately, saying, “The queen is sending three hundred warriors north through Veiled Valley this morning and another two hundred tomorrow morning to set up our camps and stations before we send
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FallonNaomi cups her knees while I pace to and from the window in our favorite sitting room, in my suite, which adjoins hers. The shared door is open, and beyond, a flurry of maids quickly unpack her suitcases and trunks. “Tell me again. In detail.”“There’s not much else to say. Mom got a summons from Uncle Sydney. We had to travel to Crescent Falls last night, and now we’re back, and Mom’s turning around again to go to Maatua with a highly specialized selection of our royal forces.”“Because KiloKilo is threatening to attack?” I spit, furious. “I told everyone this would happen.”“In her defense, you did say you’d go to KiloKilo and marry some rando you’ve never met.”“This would have happened, regardless.” I smooth my hands over the bodice of my cream-colored gown with butter yellow trim–one of my all-time favorites. “I told them. I was right. I knew KiloKilo was up to something. I could have been there by now, ensuring peace between our Kingdoms. This never needed to happen. I w
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ZaynI hate to admit that Fallon won this time. It took approximately two minutes of threats while waving around my employee file for me to find myself on the edge of my unmade bed with Fallon standing between my knees, her dainty hand gripping my shoulder to keep me still. She danced around the fact that she knows I’m not originally from the Roguelands. She made it clear that she’s under the impression I want my background, whatever it is, kept secret, which is why my file is so thin, and several important chunks on most forms have been left blank on purpose. Her parents didn’t seem to care, but Fallon does. She made a single promise to never ask about my past as long as I’d allow her to fix me up. So I agreed, even if her touch feels like a cool kind of fire–something foreign–something that threatens to undo everything I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t ever consider having for myself. “Stop moving. I can see your skull,” she snaps, dabbing the wound with pure rubbing alcohol. I ca
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FallonGrandma Kenna walks around Alyssa’s bed in the clinic at the base of the palace. Beyond a glimmering window on the far side of the room, Moonrise is cast in pearly shades of gold and blue, last night’s storm a distant memory. I haven’t slept, to say the least. Peeved and generally overstimulated, I paced my room until I ran tracks in the carpet and then burst into the hallway the second the sun rose to meet the team of warriors and healers I sent to the temple, and I’ve been here, in the clinic, ever since. It’s not even 9:00 in the morning yet, but I haven’t seen Zayn since last night, when he walked me briskly to my rooms and ordered the knight tasked with standing guard over me all night to not let me out of my rooms until he returned the next morning, which he… hasn’t done yet. Grandma fans her fingers down Alyssa’s chest with a sigh. “I don’t understand what I’m feeling. She’s fine. Perfectly healthy. But something is amiss. I can sense that, I just can’t find it.”“She
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FallonZayn stills as the young priestess rushes down the steps, her fingers gripping a slightly damp apron that carries the scent of camphor and chamomile–healing herbs I’m familiar with from my education in matters of witchcraft and the like. She looks incredibly frazzled as she reaches his side, out of breath. She tugs his arm in an effort to hurry him back up the steps, leaving me behind. I stare after them. Somewhere in the distance, over the mountain peaks, thunder rumbles, promising another epic mid-summer storm. My skin prickles. Electricity spices the air, and I’m not sure if it's the weather driving the currents or something else–something slippery, slimy, and uneasy now curling in the pit of my belly. I climb out of the truck through his open door. The hem of my gown snags on the clutch and rips, but the sound is swallowed by another burst of thunder, closer than the last. I’m halfway out of the truck and fumbling with my gown when Zayn disappears through a doorway with t
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ZaynBlake, Queen Maeve’s emissary and King of the Mystics, although he hates that title but hasn’t vocally admitted it yet, at least not to me, motions at me to follow him into a wide, spacious kitchen in his modern home on the outskirts of the city. I just arrived with precious cargo who could otherwise spirit from one side of our world to the other by simply snapping her fingers had she not gone against her parents’ commands, but I digress. She was, at least, quiet in the car, enraptured by a podcast about the sordid history of the ancient city of Rifthold, now a barren wasteland near the border of Tarsian and the Roguelands. I’ll remember that the next time she grows bored and starts using me as a paper airplane target again, which will likely be sometime tomorrow. “General,” Blake says in greeting, reaching into a smooth, pale wooden cabinet above a sink made entirely of copper. I know he designed this house from the bottom up. He talked about it often with Alex, the vampire w
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AvivaRain patters across the wooden roof covering one corner of the old temple. I roll off the makeshift bed of hay and wool blankets I keep here. I stretch, rolling my neck. My hands are still bloody from the rogue I encountered last night as I gather my weapons and head down
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