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*Ella*“Do not let go of my hand,” he says. I allow myself to look at him for the first time, to really look into those slate gray eyes of his that I now recognize with startling clarity. Once, what feels like a lifetime ago, this man asked me to dance at Isaac’s twenty-first birthday ball. I’d declined, using his question as bait to ask him his last name, so that maybe, just maybe, I could have found him again. I hadn’t been of age then to feel what I now recognize as a mate pull as his fingers curl around mine, his grip tight and demanding. Do not let go. I called him here. I used the ball to honor the heroes of this war for my own selfish reasons. I couldn’t just slip away and let my family think I’d been taken. I needed to show them I left on my own accord, even if it meant showing every Alpha and Luna in their territory my powers, and Ryatt’s. Do not let go. Do not let go of my hand. His words flow through me as my power surges with his and creates something new, something d
*Ella*The walk through the forest is short, but the sun sets behind us, and the forest is cast in a deep violet glow. A chill settles in my bones. It’s autumn here, the same as in Crescent Falls. My bare feet are coated in dead leaves by the time we crest a hill and look down at a small village tucked in a cleared area in the forest, surrounded by old growth trees and situated in a circular fashion around a tall, square building made of stone. That must be the meeting house Amanda mentioned. Its thatch roof and stone walls look like something out of a fairy tale, and so do the small stone cottages we pass as we make our way into the village proper. People stop to stare at us, at me. Amanda, however, walks with her head held high, her chin lifted as she nods at the people we pass. I suddenly get the feeling Amanda isn’t just some simple woman wandering around in the woods alone. These people give her space and bow their heads slightly to her as she leads me to the meeting house. W
*Ella*The healer is a very old, gnarled woman. She reminds me of Mystica based on the pictures Mom has scattered in her home in Maatua. The woman’s hair is bright white and wispy, and her shoulders are permenantly slumped. She barely comes up to my breasts as she hovers around Hannah, who is lying on a cot in the center of a very warm room heated by an ancient wood stove in one corner. I have to duck to walk deeper into the tight room. Bundles of herbs hang from the low ceiling. A kettle whistles on the stove as I kneel by Hannah’s bedside and take her hands in mine, finding them warm and soft. Her coloring is perfect, and she still has that smile on her face like she’s simply dreaming. “You can’t spirit through time and space all willy nilly,” the old woman croaks, her voice wobbly but calm and motherly as she pours hot water into a large, metal bowl full of herbs. “She’s split between two worlds. Here, and with her mate.”I look up at the woman, who has barely said a word to me a
*Maddy*I watch as Isaac leans over his desk to grab another stack of papers from a banker’s box on the far edge. He sighs as he flips through the papers and sets them down, reaching for a pair of manilla folders instead, and sits back down. I turn my head back to the window and watch the rain fall in dizzying sheets of silver, the entire back garden cast in shadow and glistening with dampness. My hand rests on the swell of my belly. Our son kicks me softly, and I smile to myself, tapping my fingers as if to say, “Hello, little one.”“Is he kicking again?” Isaac asks as he leans back in his office chair and places a large, warm hand on my stomach. I adjust the position of his hand and lay my hand over his, waiting. Our son is still so small, but his movements have become more noticeable the last few days. A featherlight movement brushes over Isaac’s hand. I watch my mate’s face as he feels his son kick for the first time. “That’s incredible,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Does it bothe
*Ella*I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no clue where we are, or what to expect when we reach the witches. In my defense, I jumped through the portal blind, unsure what awaited me on the other side beside my mate, who I’d be happy to never see again. I stare into the small warming fire and hug my knees to my chest. The thought of Ryatt causes an ache to spread through my chest, tightening my muscles. My mate. Some people go their whole lives without finding their mates. I should feel blessed that I've found him so soon. Right now, I feel like throwing myself off the bluff we’re sitting next too with a sweeping view of the valley below at our backs. Amanda and Gemma sit beside me facing the forest while their two friends, still in their wolf forms, doze next to the sled where Hannah still lingers in a coma. Amanda brought enough food to feed a small army, but even after not eating for an entire twenty-four hours, I can’t bring myself to take more than a few bites of a sandwich
*Ryatt* Don’t come for me. Those words haunt me as I pick through the forest. Six of my men–my closest, most trustworthy warriors–fan out around me in a wide semi-circle, leaving no stone, twig, or bush unturned. It’s been days, and there’s no sign of Ella. Nothing. Nothing of her, or the maid that flung herself at us right as I used the full force of my powers to spirit us away to Eastonia. Don’t come for me… “There’s nothing here, Ryatt,” Granger says nearby. He stands to his full height, his golden hair gleaming in the sunrise streaming through the tree top. Green eyes meet mine, heavy with annoyance. “Maybe this is a good thing.”“I know,” I agree, but the words leave a bitter taste on my tongue. I hadn’t wanted to do this. I’d bucked against my destiny at every turn. Going to King Isaac’s ball four or five years ago had only made me more steadfast in my decision that I had to find another way to defeat my father without using Princess Ella as the weapon she was born to be.
*Ella*I open my eyes, blinking into the eerie green light of the cramped room I was thrown into a few hours ago. The walls are made of stone and drip with condensation. I look up at the wooden ceiling where streaks of light filter down and cause the floor to dance with pockets of pale gray. The ceiling is a trap door; the room I’m in is an outdoor cellar. A set of slimy stairs lead up to the ceiling, the slime now covered with muddy footprints. There’s nothing down here but me. No chair, bed, bathroom bucket, or food. The bastards who dragged me here stripped me of the coat I’d been wearing, and the chilly fall air bites into my skin. My hands, bound by iron shackles behind my back, are numb from the cold. It’s raining now. Water has been dripping through the ceiling, but now rain pelts the wooden boards above my head so violently it rattles. I close my eyes and imagine my studio, my paintings, mentally going through stacks of canvases and my inventory of paint. I’m just trying to
*Ella*I shove Ryatt away from me, putting several feet of distance between us. I can still feel his touch on my chin from when he’d inspected the bruising on my cheeks. I realize with a start it had been only the second time we’d ever touched, the first being when I placed my hand in his hand when he’d come to take me home, to take me here. Now, I’ve shoved him. That’s the third time we’ve touched. Maybe, hopefully, the last. At least, I tell myself that. Seeing him in the flesh is incredibly unnerving. The sharp angles of his devastatingly handsome face draw me in, and those eyes? They’re magnetic. But being drop dead gorgeous only gets you so far in life. “I told you to stay away from me.”One dark brow arches, and his eyes narrow with obvious frustration. “You said, ‘Don’t come for me.’ What makes you think I’m here for you, Princess?”I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why else would you be here? I didn’t need your help with anything.”“Oh, really?” He looks down at the pile of as
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
BrieAt first I think I’m dreaming that I’m in my room in Veiled Valley. Familiar smells and textures unravel my senses, shielding me in a sense of calm serenity I haven’t felt in a very long time. Sunlight trickles through the curtains as they lift in a soft, warm summer breeze. Birdsong flutters through the air, breaking through murmured conversation nearby, but it sounds like a gorgeous day outside. The kind of summer day I’d spend in the garden before shifting and running into the mountains to that overlook, where a waterfall funnels back toward the city of deep, emerald green and crystal. The vision fades for the space of a breath, my eyes growing heavy once again. I wonder what I’ll dream of next? I hope it’s a good dream. But my stomach rolls and pitches, and I choke on a cough. Bright pain tingles through my body, settling at the base of my neck where a headache of epic proportions explodes, and suddenly wherever I am is too bright and far too loud. I groan, twisting into t
LoganI hit solid ground with a crunch that reverberates through my body, shocking me back to life. Dark stone and stained glass come into view, and it’s all familiar. We’re in Veiled Valley, in the castle.I blink, sucking in a breath, then curl to a seated position before swaying to my feet, my vision blurred, but I can just make out the outline of Maeve clutching Brie to her chest as Brie slumps over her arms. I run, slipping over the stone floor, and pull Brie out of Maeve’s grasp just as she begins to fall to the ground. “What is wrong with you?!” I shout at Maeve, kneeling and cradling Brie as my knees hit the ground. “What were you thinking?!”I smooth Brie’s hair out of her face. Her eyes are closed, and she’s pale, barely breathing. “Hey, Brie? Brie, come on–” I run my hand over her face, smoothing pale silver tears from her eyes, but she remains frozen. I look up at Maeve, who’s panting, a horrified look on her face. She shakes her head over, and over, mouthing something
LoganBrie folds her arms under her chest against the sudden, humid chill in the air. Thunder booms around us as the Artemis creeps toward the towering waves that should be crashing down on the deck but seem to hang in midair, casting long shadows over the ship. I rest my hands on the railing, caging Brie in against the wooden slats while we look up at the waves, neither of us breathing. In fact, everyone aboard the Artemis is standing on the deck, watching the unnerving sight in absolute bone-chilling silence. The waves simply vanish ahead of us, rolling back into the depths, allowing the fleet of over a dozen boats to pass. It’s unreal. It doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. “Are you all right?” I ask my mate, resting my hand on her upper arm. She nods but is beyond words at this point. I don’t blame her. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for the last half hour as the Artemis leads the charge. Several men scale the ratlines to hang from the masts, keeping an eye on the shi
Brie“There’s four main ports on the continent,” Logan says, bending over the crude, illustrated map of Crescent Falls and Eastonia for Alex. “Here, in Maatua. Just south of that is Avalone, in Veiled Valley. I believe that’s where we’ll be closest. However, if we come out of the veil far south, there’s a port here, in Tarsian, which is part of Eastonia. And if we’re somehow north.” He breaths, tapping the map with his knuckles. “We’ll be here, in Crescent Falls.”“And Emberfyll is… where?” Alex asks.“Somewhere… over here, I believe.” He drags a finger south from Tarsian and sharply east. I follow it, my chest tightening as I look up at him. We’re on the Artemis right now, tucked away in Alex and Monica’s private quarters. Behind us, the Asteria, the Atropos, and two other grand ships bob in the water. Beyond them, an entire fleet of ships of varying sizes follows our progress away from Tempest Valley and into the open, toward the veil. We’ve been on the water for two weeks. Before
MaeveMom stands with her arms crossed on the balcony overlooking the ballroom in our castle. In the city below, the once beautiful, tropical landscape is cast in shadow. The crystal bridges lined with greenery are now painted in banners of black. A field of flowers stretches beyond the gates of the castle, left by mourners. Left for my sister. Veiled Valley has never been this quiet and dark. The sun has barely shown itself since Brie left us. The castle itself has barely stirred in that time. It’s magic just… can’t handle Brie’s loss. It mourns with the rest of us, sometimes sending a low, choked groan through the corridors that make the lights flicker, like the magic is crying. “I’m not ready,” Mom says quietly as she watches the women below mingle in small circles, most, if not all of them, dressed in dark fabric–mourning gowns. “I’ll tell them we’re waiting. It's not a problem,” I reply, gliding to her side, reaching to lay my hand over hers as she grips the balcony, but she t