*Granger*Commander Castiel Westfall enters Ryatt’s office without a sound, but his presence is felt by the entire room. Ryatt looks up from the map laid out on his ebony wood desk as the commander comes to a halt and stands near one of the massive windows overlooking the city of Veiled Valley. Westfall’s black hair is cut short and peppered with silver along his temples, and his arms are crossed over his broad chest as the sunlight dances over his black leather armor. Glacier blue eyes meet mine as he gives me a short nod of hello. I’ve known him for years now, and he’s still as unsettling as the first moment I saw him. He’s handsome and fit for a man in his mid-fifties, but his brow is perpetually pinched by a scowl that seems to be his most relaxed expression.Shadows dance around him, severed into pieces by the sunlight. Shadowsygner. One of the last. He’s the second most powerful man in the room beside Ryatt. Maybe even the entire kingdom.I roll my lower lip between my teeth an
*Ella*Once I get over the initial shock of seeing Commander Westfall for the first time, I find I liked him quite a bit. Stern, brooding, but with a softer edge than most men in his position, he reminds me of the commanders in my father's life during my childhood. It’s hard to get over the startling resemblance he shares with my mate, however. Even as he explains that no, he isn’t King Kane, and he isn’t in my room to murder me in cold blood, or worse, I see nothing but my mate in the sharp lines of his face. In the shadows that dance in the unforgiving sunlight. In the way his smile ticks into the smirk I find so familiar. Only then, after sensing my shock and fear, does he explain who he is. A commander, and the man who trained my mate to wield the powers they share.Now I’m walking beside him along a bridge, following behind Granger and Amanda as we explore the city I now rule, apparently. Commander Westfall doesn’t speak unless spoken to directly. He prefers a yes or no questi
*Ella*Ryatt keeps a firm grip on my wrist as he leads me through his maze of a castle. Dressed in a form fitting black shirt and black pants and free of his leather armor, I can see every solid line of his body from his ripped chest to his muscular thighs. He moves like a predator honing in on its prey when we reach his bedroom–our bedroom–and shuts the door firmly behind him. The sun is beginning to set. The curtains whisper in the cool mountain breeze as golden light floods the room through the open doors leading to the balcony. A dinner service has been laid out on a round table near one of the ceiling-height windows–steak, vegetables, salad, and bread–as well as a few plates of fruit and dessert. Ryatt says nothing as I walk to the center of the room and look around, still in awe that this is where I live now, where I call home. It’s grander than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. “You need to eat something,” he says from the walk-in closet. I hear clothes hitting the floor,
*Ryatt*I don’t normally stay in the dining hall this long after breakfast. It’s nearly 9:00, and the sky outside hasn’t even begun to lighten. Rain bursts over the balcony in sheets of silver as I pour myself a third cup of coffee and rest my legs on the opposite chair, crossing my ankles. The obsidian walls in the cavernous room glimmer in the light radiating from the hearth. It’s quiet, peaceful. The two-story high wooden doors burst open, slamming into the walls on either side. The impact echoes through the room, followed by brisk footsteps. “What in the actual fuck, Ryatt?!” Ella comes to a stop a few feet away from the table with a sneer. Her face is bright red and peppered with soft bruises and welts. Her hair is tightly braided but loose strands fall around her face, and her eyes? Goddess, there she is. Finally, that girl I fell in love with at the ball has returned to me. “Good morning,” I smile as I casually bring my coffee mug to my lips. Ella’s eyes blaze like sapphi
*Ryatt*“She tells me how much she hates you everyday during training,” Westfalls says as we walk along one of the bridges at night, ten days after I tore Ella’s heart in half in the dining hall. I’ve just arrived in Veiled Valley after a week-long journey to the Roguelands to check on my commanders and generals and to make sure Alpha Magnus of Granite Rise didn’t string Granger up by his neck in a tree for what he did to Princess Amanda. “Everything she does is in spite of you,” he continues when I don’t reply. “I can’t say I don’t deserve whatever she’s saying.”“She has a rather colorful vocabulary.” He stops to look out over the city. From our vantage point, the tinkling lights send sprays of silver dancing over the levels of bridges, all the way down to the river. I sigh heavily and go to stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket before I remember I’m wearing a cloak and not my leather jacket, which I’d dropped off at a seamstress to be mended shortly after I arrived back in
*Ella*I haven’t had the nerve to paint. It’s been months, honestly. Even after the war, I locked myself in my studio in Crescent Falls and just stared at all of my paintings, several of them unfinished, unable to pick up a paint brush. But something changed this week. I threw everything into training with Westfall. He helped me hone my powers to a fine edge until I could ignite a single candle with a flick of my fingertip. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? But a week ago I tried it for the first time and ignited the entire room, nearly killing us both. It’s incredible progress, and with the physical training included, I’m beginning to feel more like myself again. I brush my fingertips over my jeans, smearing paint. I don’t care. I don’t care that I have paint on my face or the cuffs of my sweatshirt, either. I’m painting, and that’s the greatest progress that’s been made at all. I had to find some way to pass the time and stop my mind from spinning over my last conversation with Ryatt.
*Ella*Ryatt is on me in a second, crushing me to the far wall. I choke on a sob as his arms come around my waist, his face buried in my hair. I know he’s trying as hard as he can to stop this from happening, from giving into his feelings and our bond, and the thought kills me.I can admit I understand his reluctance. He lost his mother. She died trying to protect him, her love for him the catalyst for her ultimate sacrifice. He sees sending me home in the same light, even if he can’t say it out loud.I can feel it, though, in the power of his touch. I can feel it in the desperation, fury, and despair flowing off him as his mouth meets mine in the most passionate of kisses.“I missed you,” I sob, unable to hold the tears back. “I hated that you left me here.”“Ella—”I take his face between my hands and force him to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re done carrying this on your shoulders, alone. I was destined to be here fighting beside you, Ryatt. I’ve never believed your pre
*Maddy*I sigh as I look down at the tangled mess of wood and screws littering our bedroom floor. Isaac leans against the wall, his hair standing on end and his eyes narrowed on the instruction pamphlet for what should be the cribs for our twins.I rub my hands together, arching my brow at my mate, who looks more flustered than I’ve ever seen him before.“I want the head of whoever wrote this fucking thing,” he growls, turning it upside down. “I want them hanging from my gate!”“Just use your powers, for the love of the Goddess!”He turns vengeful eyes to me. “I’ve been to war, Maddy. I can put together a crib!”“Do it, then,” I say, planting my hands on my hips and giving him an expectant look. “Go ahead.”He glowers at me and slides down the wall into a seated position, looking like a surly teenager who just got scolded by his mother rather than the Alpha King.“I could help,” I suggest, but his glower deepens.“You’re supposed to be in bed, Maddy.”“I’ve been in bed since we got ho
BrieI open my eyes as I’m falling through thin air. I don’t even have time to scream before my body drops into water. Deep, rough water that drags me under the second I suck in a salty breath. I flail against the waves, trying to find the surface, but the undercurrent drags me down again, pulling me by my dress and tossing me upside down. My head hits something hard, and I screech, but the sound is empty. I suck in water, choking, and realize quite suddenly that I’m drowning. I go as still as possible, using the last of my energy to start moving with the current instead of against it, which turns out to be the best idea I’ve ever had, especially under duress. I open my eyes underwater, staring down at the shallows. It’s sunny. Daytime. And below, seaweed waves between large, gray rocks. Pockets of sunshine dance through the water, illuminating seashells in shades I’ve never seen before. Another wave crashes over the top of me, sending me rolling into even shallower water, and fina
MaeveCole and Misty have a beautiful suburban home in Shadowcrest. It’s always the same–always smells like freshly baked cookies and the flowers she keeps in vases all over the house. Tonight, as my toes brush the ground, and my powers funnel back into my body, it smells like… popcorn. “You pig! You’re not going to eat all of that.” Josie’s voice, so similar to her mother’s, drifts down the hallway. I landed in the foyer, which is dark, soft moonlight drifting in through the windows and casting the stairs and framed photos of the family in silver shadows. “If you wanted more, you should have added it to the order,” Adrian argues then yelps after a smacking sound reverberates toward me in the gloom. “Give me one of your tacos–”“Or what?”“I’ll tell Mom.”“She’s in Eastonia, dumbass. Hey!” A scuffle ensures. I have two seconds to jump into the shadow of Misty’s study just off the foyer when Cole walks down the stairs, still wearing his hospital scrubs. The sound of a shower running
LoganRyatt and Evander walk out of sight across the bridge connecting the barracks to the main streets of the city. I look out of my old bedroom window at the sunny glare casting shadows over the valley. The shadows move as the clouds dart across the sky toward the castle, toward my wife, who I’d much rather be with right now than here. I… I don’t have anything to pack. Anything that meant anything to me–my laptop, my fucking glasses–were lost in the shipwreck. I have the clothes on my back, and even those were borrowed from who-knows-where, left on the dresser in Brie’s bedroom by the ghost that haunts her house. She’s all I have, and it’s not like I can pack her in my duffle bag and take her with me. I crank open the window to let in some fresh air to cut through the overwhelmingly male smell of the barracks. I turn to my empty duffle bag with a sigh, bracing my hands on either side of it on the bed, and hang my head, but a whoosh of air rushes out behind me, and I turn in time
BrieThe moment my bedroom door closes behind us, Logan’s mouth is on mine. The lock slides into place with a soft click, and an even softer groan leaves his mouth when I reach up to run my fingers through his damp curls. He smells like rain and leather. Like the promise of warmth and comfort through another stormy night. And now this man–this loud, obnoxious, opinionated man… he’s mine. He presses a kiss to the ring he bought today on a whim. It’s a simple band of gold–that’s it. “I'll give you a better one when I return,” he promises, kissing the palm of my hand before his lips find mine again. “A ring with a diamond the old gods can see from the heavens.”“I don’t care about that.” I giggle as his hands glide down my sides, pulling me close. Outside, thunder booms, the room lighting in ribbons of blue as lightning splits the clouds, but in here, it’s warm. It’s private. It’s just us. He removes my cloak. It falls to the ground in a heap at my feet. He’s careful with the dress,
MaeveBrie is… radiant. She glows in her simple white dress of lace and satin, her hair falling loose over her back and shoulders as Logan slowly, tenderly, lowers the hood of her dark blue cloak. The temple is quiet and dim, moonlight flooding the altar. Logan knits his fingers in Brie’s and brings her knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss against them. They’re bathed in silver, the windows behind them dancing in starlight. It’s beautiful, really. It’s what I envisioned for her, one day, what I thought would be… years from now. I watch my sister–the person I love the most in all of the world–intertwine her soul with someone else, forcing myself to unravel the ribbons binding my heart to hers. She doesn’t belong to me anymore. Logan looks at her as they kneel before the priestess in her silver robes. They lean into each other like being inches away is too far apart. And the look on his face as he brushes his lips over her temple… he loves her. He’s devoted–body, and soul. My heart
Brie“Tonight?”“Yes, tonight.”“How?” I laugh, taking a step away from him. “We-we can’t.”“We can,” he says breathlessly, shaking his head. “The temple stays open all night. We’d just need to find a priestess.”“We’d need a witness,” I whisper as the cogs in my mind start turning. “I’d need a dress–”“I’d marry you like this,” he says, taking my hands. “But please, for the love of the Goddess, marry me before I go.”I blink up at Logan, my heart swelling and squeezing simultaneously. There’s still a whisper in my mind that warns me that he could change his mind, that he can’t really want me, but I… banish it, giving myself to him fully. “Are you sure?” I ask, scanning his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you to be my wife, Brie.”“I’m already your mate.”“It’s not enough.” He brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me, but a rush of air alerts us to a visitor making their way up the stairs to the tower. I pull away as a soft knock sounds on the door. Neither
BrieLogan steps into my dad’s office. All eyes turn to him as he scans the men–Sydney, Grandpa Ryatt, my father, a few others that serve both my father and grandfather as generals, captains, and commanders. Logan’s eyes are like polished, imperfect emeralds as he eyes my grandpa wearily, like he’s not entirely sure he understands what Ryatt just said to everyone in the room. “Brie, you don’t need to be here for this,” Aviva whispers behind me, knitting her fingers in mine. But Logan growls, “She stays.”A silent, heavy, creeping hint of tension scatters around the room. The entire castle would explode if someone lit a match right now, I’m sure. My spine tingles as Logan turns to Ryatt and says, calmly despite the bite in his voice, “There’s nothing in Emberfyll.”“Quite the contrary,” my grandfather replies immediately, rounding my father’s desk, his shadow powers simmering and coiling around his fingers, “Debris has been washing up on the southern shore of Tarsian for decades now.
LoganBrie looks exhausted, but otherwise… happy, thank the Goddess, as she sits between her mother and Misty, listening to their conversation and picking at a sandwich. I lean my elbows on the table across the room where I’m sitting in silence, alone, still waiting for my mind to catch up with my body after Maeve jumped with us from the middle of the ocean to Veiled Valley. A shadow moves into view, crossing through the doorway before a shadow breaches the informal living area. Ryan looks around before turning the corner, beelining for me, waving away several rushed questions coming from the group of women on the couches nearby. He braces his hands on the table beside me, leaning down to whisper into my ear, “I need to speak to you in private before Ryatt returns. Can you come with me?”I glance at Brie, who’s watching us with her brows furrowed in worry. I suck my teeth before nodding, and Ryan moves back a step so I can stand. Brie and I have been using the mind-link as much as
BrieI pull the stool out from under my vanity, sinking down and facing Blake. I’m older than him by a few months. We’ve always been close, even when we were younger, and he tended to want to play rowdy boy games with Aris. He always sat quietly and played tea-party with me, though, without fail. He’s also the pariah of the family and knows it. His powers rival Ryatt’s, which is a terrifying thought. In fact, I often question who’s more powerful–him or Maeve? But that’s not a fair question at the moment, given that Maeve’s powers aren’t even fully developed yet. Blake, however… he exudes energy that makes my skin tingle as he sits in my desk chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “You found us, didn’t you?” He nods, a flash of guilt darkening his irises. “I admit I didn’t even look until Maeve cornered me. She felt you, she said. Sensed your arrival back in our waters.”I wonder how much Logan told the family. Probably everything, I’m sure. That man can talk, and I love that abou