MasukZaynI 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
Fallon“Who are you to Zayn?” I ask. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and I suppose it’s a good place to start. “I’m his cousin. Our mothers are sisters. Alyssa is my aunt–or was. Zayn mentioned she hasn’t been herself for years.” She weaves her fingers together on her lap and tilts her chin, dark gray eyes holding mine. “I’m older than him by a few years. We were both raised in Meridem.”“Where is Meridem? What is it? I’ve heard it mentioned several times.”“It’s an island a few hours south of here, and it’s considered the only place where shifters and witches can live freely. It’s a sacred place, at least to me.” She huffs a breath and rises, pacing to the far side of the room and back. “I assume you met Magnus?”“I saw him.”“And you know, or at least assumed, who he is to your betrothed?"I knot my hands into fists behind my back. “Magnus is Zayn’s father.”“You are correct. He’s also the youngest son of the Grand Wizard. The youngest of maybe… forty sons over the course
FallonZayn is still lying prone on the floor when three shadows drift over the dust-eaten, weathered floorboards. A very tall, curvaceous woman with the thickest, curliest black hair I’ve ever seen steps carefully into the room, her mane of glorious curls slipping over her shoulder while she peers skeptically down at Zayn. He narrows his eyes to slits, but not into a glare. I think–actually, I know–he’s absolutely shitfaced right now. To be completely, totally, horrifically honest… I am jealous he’s currently floating on another plane of existence. It must be nice.“Cousin,” the woman says tightly, glancing at me before crouching and poking him in the cheek. “What have you done to yourself this time?”“He’s drunk,” I croak and then clear my throat. The woman purses her lips and inspects us both with marked curiosity. “I’ll be damned. I didn’t think anyone could outdrink Zayn, but look at this. He outdrank himself. It’s a miracle, and just in time, because I have to take your blush
Zayn The air is stale and silent in the rustic stone manor attached to the far side of the Mecca, the grand fortress that governs all of KiloKilo and marks its capital. Even in the violet glow of the earliest hours of the morning, the palace casts its shadow through every window in the manor, turning its already dark and sparsely decorated interior an inky kind of black. No one lives here. No one has for years. Cobwebs still hang from the highest rafters of the room where Fallon is curled in the fetal position on a bed with fresh sheets, at least, her small body swallowed by the darkness all around her. I leave the door open even though I’ve already dropped powerful wards around the manor and its slice of a front garden. No one can enter or exit without me knowing. No one can so much as open a door without alarm bells ringing through my skull loud enough to wake me from the deepest sleep, which I doubt I’ll have for days to come. Which is how I know my cousin Jason didn’t do what
FallonZayn holds my gaze for several aching seconds. I can almost feel him inside my head, and I hate how scared of him I feel right now. I have no idea who he is. I had no idea he was this powerful. Who the fuck is he? Tears slip free and wet my cheeks. The little boy kneels at Zayn’s feet, facing the young woman I assume is his mother, and bows his head like an execution is something he was prepared for. “Zayn,” I mouth, terrified, my voice refusing to work. His name cracks over my tongue. I might be imagining the way his eyes twinkle with emotion before they darken to murderous intent once again. “Please.”He turns back to the throne and the rows below, ignoring the numerous, disfigured bodies and body parts strewn across the tiles. The Grand Wizard fumes, fury shining bright behind his dark eyes as he grips his staff–the head of which is an odd orb of some kind that whispers a deep, dark blue kind of magic. “You are not welcome here, hybrid filth!”“On the contrary,” Zayn cut
Fallon“Let me go!” I screech, digging in my heels. My useless satin slippers–which perfectly match my dress, I might add–slip over wide, flat tiles of the deepest gray, jagged grout-lines tearing holes in the cork heels. I kick out when the men tighten their grip hard enough to leave bruises. I can feel their touch in my bones, pinching the bones of my wrists together in a way that makes me bite back shrieks of pain. “Shut up,” one of the men whines, jostling me. I’ve already looked them each in the eye when they dragged me up an exterior staircase that led from the beach to the palace, when all the while I tried to make myself as slack and heavy as possible to stall their progress. I will never forget their faces. Never.My complaints fall on deaf ears. My reassertions that I am, in fact, the royal princess of Eastonia–heir to my mother–a certified psychopath who will, for sure, hunt me down and leave bloodshed in her wake when she finds out about this–doesn’t change a Goddess-damn
Lexa“Stay close,” Kaleb whispers sternly over the top of my head as we follow a set of fae guards through the bowels of the castle. “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” I reply under my breath, trying to wrench my arm free of his iron-like grip. He hasn’t let go of me since the moment Lis and I ste
BlakeMarianna and I doze in the quiet darkness of my bedroom for nearly an hour before convincing each other to get up long enough to put on clothes and brush our teeth, at least. Within minutes, we’re back in bed. Marianna snuggles close while I stare at the ceiling, listening to the… silence, as
BlakeIt’s not a small gathering of people like Maeve said it would be. I should have known that this party would be… a writhing mess of voices and lifted conversation bouncing from wall to wall in the formal ballroom, a space the size of a small city that puts the grand hall in the castle of Cresc
BlakeI slowly place my fingertips against Dean’s forehead as he writhes, spasming as… his mind is torn to absolute shreds. It’s sloppy. Untrained. Memories sprint toward my powers, blooming into images that make my blood boil. Him hurting Marianna over and over again. The memories split and shatte







