MasukFallonZayn fell asleep the second he returned from the ensuite bathroom, teeth brushed, hair combed, whatever else he does during his nightly routine. While he snoozes with his back to me, practically hanging off the far side of the massive bed that could easily fit five full-sized men side to side, I sit here, twiddling my thumbs, not sleepy in the slightest after wasting an entire day with an epically painful migraine. I doubt Zayn’s a heavy sleeper. I’m sure he’ll wake up with a jolt if I so much as breathe too hard, so after trying and failing to force my body back to rest, I slink out of bed in the early hours of the morning when, under normal circumstances, a house of this size and rank would be quietly alive with the earliest of the day’s preparations. Instead of maids hurrying from room to room, and a kitchen bustling with steam and the first heavy scents of breakfast being made, I’m met by silence. It’s not heavy or eerie. It’s a calm, sea-kissed kind of peace that follow
FallonI wake from a state that’s similar to what I assume a coma would feel like at exactly 9:47 P.M. I have no idea what day it is, or, quite frankly, where I am. I have very few memories of much beyond that amazing dinner and a salt breeze before my brain split in half. I sit up, blinking into a totally dark, but regal, room that curves in nearly a circle. A few doors catch strips of moonlight beaming through six arched windows, all of which are open to the sound of waves rolling against a nearby shore. For a moment, I feel transported to Maatua, but this place has none of the modern charm of the beach houses my family shares. Marble columns stretch toward the ceiling, and even in the moonlight, I can tell the room is decorated in shades of sand, with pale blues and greens–very beachy and serene, indeed. I am, thank the Goddess, without a doubt, no longer in Meccana. I slide out of bed and immediately spot a new shift and matching robe draped over a nearby armchair, which mean
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
*Maddox*“I understand the significance, Alpha, but I don’t think now is the best time to make the announcement.”Seth is sitting across from me in my office, helping me decide whether or not we should let the other Alphas know about the baby. Now that I’ve seen his tiny, wiggly body for myself, seen
*Maddox*Alpha Charlton hasn’t changed that much since the last time I saw him—at the funeral.He does have bags under his eyes that were not there before, back when he had no reason to lie awake at night and stare at the ceiling, asking why.Back when we were all happy and full of light and hope.I can
*Isla*“Well, who was it from?”Poppy’s voice is too chipper for me. I’ve only just woken up from a long nap, and blinking a few times, I try to get my bearings, wondering what the hell she is talking about. Where is Maddox? I glance at the clock and see it’s almost 6:00. He’s usually done working by
*Isla*“Rebecca?”I can’t breathe. I’m trying to get oxygen into my lung, but nothing is happening. My head feels dizzy. My knees refuse to support my body, and the room around me spins.Maddox’s hands are on my arms, holding me up. “Yes, Trinity looks very much like my dead wife.” The words come out o







