LOGINElla
Amanda shifts her weight beside me as we stare up into the ceiling of the remains of the observatory.
After I destroyed Ravenna’s crystal castle in Old Moonrise to save my friends’ lives, I offered to have this palace rebuilt.
The mystics refused–flat out.
They said it was a gift and a message from the Goddess that the orrery survived the devastation. It sits in the remains of the palace, warded by Ryatt’
ZaynA calm, tropical breeze ruffles the fabric of my black cotton shirt. It’s loose, airy, and a far cry from the armor I’ve been wearing for three years. I’m not used to the fit, nor the feeling of the air on my skin. Nor the salt-scented breeze that ripples through fine mesh curtains lifting from the open-air archways that line the entire south-facing side of the room. A room that belongs to the Alpha King of the Packs of Meridem. I have vivid memories of standing in this room holding my mother’s hand while she conversed with her father, my maternal grandfather, Papa–the Alpha King who effectively cut ties with the Grand Wizard and whose reign ushered in a new era of pirating that allowed the packs to spread out along the archipelagos and island clusters far south of Meccana. Papa had one thing that worked in his favor–the Alexandrite mines. Meridem, as an island system, is the richest source of Alexandrite, which the wizards have long used to strengthen their magic. It’s hard to
FallonLuna. I shake my head at my reflection in the stainless steel-framed mirror in my stateroom aboard The Alyssa, which is, in fact, an impressive cargo ship with several floors dedicated to guests. It’s nothing like the yachts in my family’s arsenal, but it’s comfortable, nonetheless, if not a little stale and gray. We’ve been bobbing off the coast of Toppifaire for the past three hours, and I’m getting bored. I tuck my hair behind my ears, considering going to figure out what’s going on, when a horn blasts somewhere high above me, sending a rattle through the ship from top to bottom. I jolt, accidentally scratching my cheek with my nail, and murmur a rather colorful curse while blotting the bloody mark with a handful of tissue. This is not what I signed up for when KiloKilo first sent the inquiry about a marriage between me and the man they referred to as “one of their princes.” Oh, if I could go back and look myself in the eyes–maybe shake myself back to rationality–I would.
FallonThere’s little to report about my wedding night. I didn’t dance until the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t arrive at a romantically decorated room where a bottle of sparkling wine and chocolate-covered strawberries were waiting for me and my dear, sweet husband. I didn’t fall into silk sheets with the love of my life. In fact, the man in question simply shoved me into a room at an inn after a two-hour long car ride–color me shocked that there are cars in KiloKilo. I’ve always considered this place to be rudimentary, but alas, I am again proved wrong–and then he left. Where is Zayn, one might ask? Hell if I know! It’s now 6:00 in the morning, and I haven’t seen him since last night, when he left me here in a room. At least it’s leagues better than the stuffy, poorly tended manor in Meccana… or whatever the hell that terrible city is called. This room is warm and inviting with striped yellow wallpaper and freshly waxed floorboards. The inn has a full kitchen, too. I know beca
ZaynI have very few memories in this palace. Father only ever brought me here if it was totally necessary, with a summons from the Grand Wizard, but even then, those instances were few and far between. Invitations to ascension ceremonies of higher ranking family members often went unanswered. I attended maybe one wedding. Births were never celebrated. This palace was simply a massive gravestone in my memory–a reminder of stone walls where men walked in and never walked out. Now, I’m watching my wife nod her head and fix her face into something dutiful and amenable while distant female cousins and the wives of cousins I don’t know approach to congratulate her on our nuptials. At least people bow in her presence and keep their eyes on their toes, as they should in the presence of a royal. Soft, stilted music plays over the hushed, nervous murmurs of the crowd. A banquet spread fills up nearly the length of the ballroom, where towers of food go untouched. Only the ballsiest men fill
Fallon“Who are you to Zayn?” I ask. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and I suppose it’s a good place to start. “I’m his cousin. Our mothers are sisters. Alyssa is my aunt–or was. Zayn mentioned she hasn’t been herself for years.” She weaves her fingers together on her lap and tilts her chin, dark gray eyes holding mine. “I’m older than him by a few years. We were both raised in Meridem.”“Where is Meridem? What is it? I’ve heard it mentioned several times.”“It’s an island a few hours south of here, and it’s considered the only place where shifters and witches can live freely. It’s a sacred place, at least to me.” She huffs a breath and rises, pacing to the far side of the room and back. “I assume you met Magnus?”“I saw him.”“And you know, or at least assumed, who he is to your betrothed?"I knot my hands into fists behind my back. “Magnus is Zayn’s father.”“You are correct. He’s also the youngest son of the Grand Wizard. The youngest of maybe… forty sons over the course
FallonZayn is still lying prone on the floor when three shadows drift over the dust-eaten, weathered floorboards. A very tall, curvaceous woman with the thickest, curliest black hair I’ve ever seen steps carefully into the room, her mane of glorious curls slipping over her shoulder while she peers skeptically down at Zayn. He narrows his eyes to slits, but not into a glare. I think–actually, I know–he’s absolutely shitfaced right now. To be completely, totally, horrifically honest… I am jealous he’s currently floating on another plane of existence. It must be nice.“Cousin,” the woman says tightly, glancing at me before crouching and poking him in the cheek. “What have you done to yourself this time?”“He’s drunk,” I croak and then clear my throat. The woman purses her lips and inspects us both with marked curiosity. “I’ll be damned. I didn’t think anyone could outdrink Zayn, but look at this. He outdrank himself. It’s a miracle, and just in time, because I have to take your blush
AvivaI wake with a start to bright, warm sunshine and the smell of salty air. I grope white sheets, blinking several times to clear my vision as an unfamiliar bedroom fades to life around me. Warm white walls. Pale wood finishes and sleek furniture in soft browns and creams. W
RyanAn hour earlier…I can’t scrub the image of Aviva dead in my arms out of my head. It’s been several days since the battle, since the moment I put her in my uncle's arms and turned back to the ravaged scene, not knowing whether or not s
Aviva“I have her.”Ryan and I turn to look at Sarah. We’ve been avoiding looking at her because, quite frankly, she looks terrifying right now. Her eyes are glowing and totally, completely violet. Her hair floats around her head as she stands with her hands on either side of what Ryan called a “bird
MistyI follow Cole through his… apartment, I guess. The layout of these suites is remarkably like the Firestone castle in Moonrise where my family has their own apartments within the castle. But this place is practically empty. Dusty and stale. If he has personal object







