ANMELDENSarah
After the Ball
Alpha Sydney of Shadowcrest pauses during the long trek down the stairs leading out of the temple of the Moon Goddess. He extends a hand to me, and I take it, finding his hands warm but slightly clammy.
I meet his eyes. Goddess, he has radiant eyes. The kind of blue even the best artists can’t capture in a painting. Dark blue, like the deepest ocean, and so expressive I can see every thought behind them.
FallonGrandma Kenna walks around Alyssa’s bed in the clinic at the base of the palace. Beyond a glimmering window on the far side of the room, Moonrise is cast in pearly shades of gold and blue, last night’s storm a distant memory. I haven’t slept, to say the least. Peeved and generally overstimulated, I paced my room until I ran tracks in the carpet and then burst into the hallway the second the sun rose to meet the team of warriors and healers I sent to the temple, and I’ve been here, in the clinic, ever since. It’s not even 9:00 in the morning yet, but I haven’t seen Zayn since last night, when he walked me briskly to my rooms and ordered the knight tasked with standing guard over me all night to not let me out of my rooms until he returned the next morning, which he… hasn’t done yet. Grandma fans her fingers down Alyssa’s chest with a sigh. “I don’t understand what I’m feeling. She’s fine. Perfectly healthy. But something is amiss. I can sense that, I just can’t find it.”“She
FallonZayn stills as the young priestess rushes down the steps, her fingers gripping a slightly damp apron that carries the scent of camphor and chamomile–healing herbs I’m familiar with from my education in matters of witchcraft and the like. She looks incredibly frazzled as she reaches his side, out of breath. She tugs his arm in an effort to hurry him back up the steps, leaving me behind. I stare after them. Somewhere in the distance, over the mountain peaks, thunder rumbles, promising another epic mid-summer storm. My skin prickles. Electricity spices the air, and I’m not sure if it's the weather driving the currents or something else–something slippery, slimy, and uneasy now curling in the pit of my belly. I climb out of the truck through his open door. The hem of my gown snags on the clutch and rips, but the sound is swallowed by another burst of thunder, closer than the last. I’m halfway out of the truck and fumbling with my gown when Zayn disappears through a doorway with t
ZaynBlake, Queen Maeve’s emissary and King of the Mystics, although he hates that title but hasn’t vocally admitted it yet, at least not to me, motions at me to follow him into a wide, spacious kitchen in his modern home on the outskirts of the city. I just arrived with precious cargo who could otherwise spirit from one side of our world to the other by simply snapping her fingers had she not gone against her parents’ commands, but I digress. She was, at least, quiet in the car, enraptured by a podcast about the sordid history of the ancient city of Rifthold, now a barren wasteland near the border of Tarsian and the Roguelands. I’ll remember that the next time she grows bored and starts using me as a paper airplane target again, which will likely be sometime tomorrow. “General,” Blake says in greeting, reaching into a smooth, pale wooden cabinet above a sink made entirely of copper. I know he designed this house from the bottom up. He talked about it often with Alex, the vampire w
FallonMaebelle Yarrows, the daughter of Alpha Yarrows of Diamond Ridge in Veiled Valley, stirs her bland, unsugared tea until it spills over the rim of the delicate, pale floral pink teacup I find myself slightly territorial over. It’s my favorite set, and her spoon clinking against the fine porcelain has my left eye twitching against my will, but I have a duty, and that duty is playing nice with fellow princesses, even if they’re grossly beneath my station and absolutely ridiculous, like Maebelle.She’s beautiful in a Veiled Valley sort of way–ethereally rustic. Her red hair is braided intricately through a tiara of gold and emerald that matches her gown and robe of green silk. She looks like a flower plucked from a mountain ridge.Her golden eyes are fixed to a shadow in the corner of the room, oblivious to everything else. A six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-fifty pound shadow that continues to haunt my every move, despite my gallant efforts to lead him astray.Maebelle blushes deeply
Book 19: Witch of the AlphaZayn“Good morning, Zayn.”“General Zayn. You look well.”“Zayn! Good morning! Have you eaten yet? There’s still breakfast left in the dining hall.”“General. Commander Abel has called a meeting at noon. I’m not sure you knew. Actually, I doubt you’re required to go based on your current post. Disregard–”“Zayn, how is your mother? Is she still at the temple?”Zayn. Zayn. Zayn.Early mornings in lower levels of the palace are always a rush of conversation and activity. It’s such a contrast to the quiet of the city beyond the palace walls, still asleep under a blanket of starlight and a cool, swift breeze drifting off the lake. Steam rises like plumes of mist around my shoulders while I sidestep through the main kitchen, carrying a crate the delivery boy forgot to bring in, dodging hands outstretched in good morning salutations–all the usual greetings.The spiderweb of servant hallways is just as crowded. Maids dart back and forth, carrying bundles of laundr
FallonThe humid weight of mid-summer beats down on my brow as I move through the garden, frowning at the twenty-foot wall shielding my view of the city of Moonrise–and the public's view of me. I crouch to pull a few weeds from the base of the hedgerow and dust my fingertips on the apron I stole off a hook in the servants’ hall just off the garden, twisting the rough fabric between my fingertips. I rise and move on to the thickets of mustard greens, ignoring the tomatoes because their leaves make my fingers green and itchy, and all the while, a tall, aggravating, annoying, pointless shadow follows my progress. I look up at the guard in royal garb–which includes a helmet and mask of iron–something I suppose was designed to look menacing, and it sure does. Sunlight glints off braids of iron and onyx covering his nose and mouth. His eyes are pools of the deepest black, even in direct light. His chest and arm guards are no different and likely weigh over a hundred pounds. I guess that’s
KennaWhat I don’t know, as I kneel on the furs, is that Evander came here looking for me only to find out he’s still part of the Rite. Mystics surrounded him at the lake shore and followed him to the temple entrance, hurrying him along, telling him he was late. He came here for me. Maybe to stop me
EvanderI’m going to regret this. I shouldn’t be dancing with Kenna, her body glued to mine. She’s a perfect fit as she lays her head against my shoulder and wraps her arms around my waist. She’s zoned out right now, completely overcome by the music. She’s always been like this. As a kid, we’d get st
KennaEvander looks down at me and goes perfectly still.“What was that?” I whisper. It could easily have been the fireworks the elder council in the coven ordered for the festivities.Another Earth rattling boom shakes the underground temple
KennaEvander shuts the door. The lock clicks, and for a moment, the only sound I can hear is my heartbeat racing in my own ears.He looks… conflicted. Unsure–and unsteady.“You–you smell like vanilla candles,” I whisper, unsure if I say the words out lo







