The Alpha King's Breeder のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 801 - チャプター 810

LexaAn entire day passes. I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until time bleeds together in my head. My mind pounds like a drum, my temples splitting, and the only thing keeping me lucid is a near constant array of healing drafts being poured down my throat every hour on the hour, as if they are responsible for ensuring my heart doesn’t stop beating. In the first hour of the second day in Silas’s country home in the Highwoods–a mountainous estate several hours north of the capital, I’m told–I rise from bed, gingerly testing my range of motion, feeling how taut and new my spine feels. Like the bones are made of glass. I make it three steps before my back crumbles, forcing me onto the edge of the bed. Bea, Silas’s healer, is a stout and bossy woman, a shifter, and a beautiful one, at that. She can’t be older than my age, but she’s hardened, like she’s seen nothing but violence, blood, and war her entire life. She doesn’t take no for an answer. The woman has been torturing m

LexaNo one touches me. I’m not locked in chains. The dark hallways running alongside the arena blur, smelling like rusted metal and full of smoke. The air is hotter than it should be, but when I squint through the darkness, I can just see the haze of smoke funneling from the direction of the Glade. My stomach pitches, but I have to keep my head on straight. I have to finish this, and that means an audience with the king. He’s waiting for me when I step into the bright glare of the arena. Spectators line the curved benches overhead, but they’re silent. My sandals crunch over the dirt, over old dark bloodstains. No weapons cache rises in the distance. No one else is waiting for me. I am the champion. There’s no one else to fight. I am here for my gift. I stop in the dead center of the arena and look up at the balcony where the fae king waits, his teal robes lifting in a phantom breeze. “My champion returns,” he says flatly, his voice deep and cutting in the dead tongue. He doesn

MariannaThe first frost of the season blankets Crescent Falls on the morning twelve ships come into view off the shore of Tarsian. Josie, Misty’s daughter, is weaving Skye’s hair into two braids by the hearth where Maddy keeps watch, occasionally and discreetly checking the dainty watch on her wrist. I stand near the window, watching golden and red leaves tremble on the trees along the wall of the garden before they sway down to the shimmering, silver grass. The sun rises on Crescent Falls, then Eastonia, on what I know will be a historic day. We got the news about the ships headed back in our direction a week ago. Since then, every member of the family has been debating next moves. Aviva and Ryan are readying the Deadlands for the arrival of what Maeve said would be approximately three thousand people, including hundreds of children, none of them in good shape. They need food and medicine. Kenna is there now, setting up clinics in Teshka and Endova, preparing to accept the new arr

KalebA Few Weeks Later“Has anyone seen my wife?” Logan asks as he parts a small crowd gathered around one of the many open fires scattered across the festival grounds. The tall, dark-haired man with eyes so similar to mine it’s almost like looking in a mirror has his son, Kieran, on his shoulders, as he sidesteps to where Lexa is perched on my thigh while I rest on a bale of hay. He sinks down beside us, unceremoniously dumping his son onto the hay bales stacked behind us, and Kieran shrieks with laughter, scrambling and begging to do it again. I’m not used to this yet. This many people just milling about for fun. I recognize so many of the faces, even if they weren’t in the Glade with us because we’re… one people. We always have been, just separated by an ocean, by magic and invisible chains. “I think Brie’s hiding from him.” Lexa smirks, jabbing a thumb in Kieran’s direction. Her hair is loose and falling down her back in spiraling curls beneath a hat of pure white rabbit fur. A

ArisThe Next SummerVeiled Valley bakes under the glare of early summer sunlight. It’s around noon, I think, as I stumble up the stairs to my room, fumbling with the suitcase I haven’t even seen in probably five years, let alone used in that time. It’s been a while since I’ve gone anywhere for an extended amount of time–just to be somewhere else. Normally, all I need are my ghost-issued gloves that turn into a full suit of armor and the clothes on my back. It’s not like I can’t just, I don’t know, snap my fingers and be somewhere else whenever I want to. I’m giving that a rest this summer. This summer, I’m just Aris. Not the Shadowsynger heir. Not the Prince of Veiled Valley. Not an Alpha in the making. Just me.My bedroom door opens on a phantom wind, thanks to the ever lingering spirit of the house, and my room expands around me–a wash of deep blues, silver, purples, and blacks. It’s a lair of masculine darkness–every Shadowsyngers’ dream. A four-poster bed with a satin bedspread