LOGINLexaThey’re no maids in the manor. Not a single servant to tend the halls. Beyond the formal gates out front, fae guards rest against the spiraling columns that mark the entrance, the garden sheltered by a tall, marble wall that wraps around the entire building. It reminds me of the manors in Moonrise and some of the nicer townhomes. Crescent Falls, ever modern, favors the larger, family style homes, like Misty’s place. Silas doesn’t have a TV. I haven’t seen anyone with a phone, either. No video games. No computers. Just… books. Books Silas likes. Books about war and politics. The sun isn’t nearly as warm today. I move through the house, exploring. I slept well last night, woke refreshed, and took a long, hot shower for the first time in weeks, scrubbing my skin raw, making use of Silas’s excessive collection of soaps and oils. But now I don’t know what to do with my time. I haven’t seen Blake since yesterday morning. I know he went out last night because I peaked out a window an
KalebThe ballroom in the palace is crowded but so quiet I can hear the echo of my footsteps. I didn’t bother to bathe, let alone change into something more appropriate for this occasion. My shirt is dust-stained red and wilted from a day spent in the sun, in the sparring ring, where I beat my tension into submission until I couldn’t so much as lift my arms anymore. Fae guards stomp beside me, flanking me on either side until we reach the top of the staircase leading down to the wide, ornate ballroom where a crowd of mostly men waits. The balcony overlooking the ballroom is wrapped in banners, like some kind of celebration is being held soon, the decorating in the early stages. A celebration for the victor, the champion, of the Trials that are not yet over. Several faces turn as I move down the stairs on my own. My boots leave red-hued dirt in their wake, a bright stain on the marble tiles–like blood. Like every step is a reminder of the blood spilled only to entertain these beings
LexaI slept an entire day away. I couldn’t bring myself to even attempt to get out of bed. It wasn’t a weakness in my body–nothing sore or aching. I’ve always lived and loved routines. I feel my best when I know exactly what a day will bring–or at least should bring. But lately, everything has been so upside down. My spirit is shattered, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it other than succumb to the fatigue that’s been draining me for weeks without my wolf to help keep me balanced. So, I laid in Kaleb’s bed, surrounded by his scent, watching the sunlight play over the ceiling, watching the shadows creep in as the sun began its slow descent back toward the horizon–another day passing, another day further from home. Another day with too many questions and far too little answers. I allowed myself to think about Chessie. I mapped her from memory, sinking so deeply into my thoughts that I could almost feel the cool bite of the creek that runs through the center of Silverhide and that
SorenSilverhide is gorgeous in the morning. Wispy fog snakes through the trees as I stomp through wet, almost shin high grass. The little cabin on the edge of the main part of the village is tucked in the shadow of a crop of trees, their leaves morphing to a bright yellowish green as they dry. Yeah, I feel the change in the air. That first jarring cold morning of the upcoming season. Fall is on the horizon, which means Lexa and Blake have been missing for almost a month. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a year since Maeve and I found each other, thrust together as some joke of the Goddess. The joke’s on Her, however, because my mate is currently tucked tight in a bed we lovingly shared–naked–her scent all over my skin, just how I like it. Is She irritated that we made it through her trials, or is that what She wanted all along?Our daughter, our precious demon of fire and wrath, blinks into the sunlit fog, gnawing on my shoulder and curling her little talons in my hair beneath th
LexaI rise on my elbows and blink up at Kaleb. My vision goes spotty for several seconds before repairing itself, but my brain feels like a leaden weight. I’m not sure I’m actually here now, in this room, bracing myself over the side of Kaleb’s bed while my stomach pitches and rolls, the taste of magic heavy on my tongue. “B-Blake? Where did you hear–hear that name?” I’m going to vomit. I don’t think I can help it. My body lurches, and I end up on my knees on the ground before Kaleb can steady me. I close my eyes, the room spinning for several seconds before wobbling back to normal. He exhales sharply through gritted teeth, his hand warm and flat against my upper back. “Put your head between your knees and breathe.”“I feel like I’m on a boat.”“I’ve never been on a boat, but what you’re feeling right now is fae magic in your body. It takes a while to dispel itself.”“I’m going to be sick–”“Fight it,” he commands, and I adjust my position on the hard floorboards and do as he says.
KalebSilas has a private box in the arena that overlooks the grounds. I squint through the bright, unforgiving lights to the magical dome, watching rain pound the king’s shields. It had been a clear, hot night before this. The rain started only minutes ago, absolutely drenching Pantharas–a flood of epic proportions. Compared to the long-awaited rain that blessed the Glade recently, this feels more like a punishment. Silas paces, glancing at the arena, which is empty. “She should have come out by now. It’s been three hours.”“She’ll come,” I say, my voice booming through the alabaster room. Benches in shades of pale cream take up the majority of the space. I should be down near the grates, ready to run onto the sand to get her when she arrives, but I was barred entrance to the lower levels of the arena today. The king is playing games now. Lexa shouldn’t have made it past the beast trial, and now he blames me. Thunder crackles, booming over the arena. Lightning flares in strips over







