LOGINZayn The air is stale and silent in the rustic stone manor attached to the far side of the Mecca, the grand fortress that governs all of KiloKilo and marks its capital. Even in the violet glow of the earliest hours of the morning, the palace casts its shadow through every window in the manor, turning its already dark and sparsely decorated interior an inky kind of black. No one lives here. No one has for years. Cobwebs still hang from the highest rafters of the room where Fallon is curled in the fetal position on a bed with fresh sheets, at least, her small body swallowed by the darkness all around her. I leave the door open even though I’ve already dropped powerful wards around the manor and its slice of a front garden. No one can enter or exit without me knowing. No one can so much as open a door without alarm bells ringing through my skull loud enough to wake me from the deepest sleep, which I doubt I’ll have for days to come. Which is how I know my cousin Jason didn’t do what
FallonZayn holds my gaze for several aching seconds. I can almost feel him inside my head, and I hate how scared of him I feel right now. I have no idea who he is. I had no idea he was this powerful. Who the fuck is he? Tears slip free and wet my cheeks. The little boy kneels at Zayn’s feet, facing the young woman I assume is his mother, and bows his head like an execution is something he was prepared for. “Zayn,” I mouth, terrified, my voice refusing to work. His name cracks over my tongue. I might be imagining the way his eyes twinkle with emotion before they darken to murderous intent once again. “Please.”He turns back to the throne and the rows below, ignoring the numerous, disfigured bodies and body parts strewn across the tiles. The Grand Wizard fumes, fury shining bright behind his dark eyes as he grips his staff–the head of which is an odd orb of some kind that whispers a deep, dark blue kind of magic. “You are not welcome here, hybrid filth!”“On the contrary,” Zayn cut
Fallon“Let me go!” I screech, digging in my heels. My useless satin slippers–which perfectly match my dress, I might add–slip over wide, flat tiles of the deepest gray, jagged grout-lines tearing holes in the cork heels. I kick out when the men tighten their grip hard enough to leave bruises. I can feel their touch in my bones, pinching the bones of my wrists together in a way that makes me bite back shrieks of pain. “Shut up,” one of the men whines, jostling me. I’ve already looked them each in the eye when they dragged me up an exterior staircase that led from the beach to the palace, when all the while I tried to make myself as slack and heavy as possible to stall their progress. I will never forget their faces. Never.My complaints fall on deaf ears. My reassertions that I am, in fact, the royal princess of Eastonia–heir to my mother–a certified psychopath who will, for sure, hunt me down and leave bloodshed in her wake when she finds out about this–doesn’t change a Goddess-damn
FallonAn Hour Earlier… I’ve always wanted to use the mirror. It’s off limits for good reason. My mom was the last person to use it, and she practically destroyed it. I smooth my fingers over the rough bands of crystal growing over shards of shattered glass, creating an even kaleidoscope-like surface reflecting the deepest shades of onyx. “Are you sure about this?” Naomi asks behind me, holding a grimoire. Her powers of fire and light illuminate the pages within already, without her even opening the heavy, leather-bound book. “I am.” I have to be. I have to shove Zayn’s annoying, blistering voice out of my head and let fate take over. “Let's do it.”“But what happens when you get there?”I turn to look at her, putting on a brave face, even though I’m truly beginning to spiral. A little voice in my head asks me if I’ve actually thought this through. I likely haven’t. I’m definitely jumping to conclusions. I’m for sure doing something dumb and irreversible. I know, in my heart, that
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
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
SorenMoonrise has officially descended into hell. I can readily admit I’m not one for crowds. I like being alone. I enjoy peace and quiet. I dislike being pushed and shoved, and I sure as hell hate seeing every street swarmed with people, most of them sloppy drunk after a day of festivities, all
SorenSnow falls in heaps that stick to hanging neon signs coated in ice. Street lights flicker as I move through the shadows, keeping my head down and my eyes covered by a thin strip of black fabric. A group of drunk patrons stumble out of a bar in front of me, tumbling into the ice covered street
Maeve“What did you say?” My mouth goes painfully dry. I try to swallow but fail, humming a choked sob as I search his eyes for understanding. The four feet of distance between feels like an ocean when he balls his hands into fists at his sides, widening his stance like he’s preparing for battle,
MaeveWaves beat against the pristine white sand of the private beach a short walk from the fabulous vacation house Maddy and Isaac now call home full time. I cross my arms over my chest, resting them against my belly as a warm breeze ripples through my flowy sundress and sigh. Well. I guess I de







