LOGINFallon“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
FallonAn Hour Earlier… I’ve always wanted to use the mirror. It’s off limits for good reason. My mom was the last person to use it, and she practically destroyed it. I smooth my fingers over the rough bands of crystal growing over shards of shattered glass, creating an even kaleidoscope-like surface reflecting the deepest shades of onyx. “Are you sure about this?” Naomi asks behind me, holding a grimoire. Her powers of fire and light illuminate the pages within already, without her even opening the heavy, leather-bound book. “I am.” I have to be. I have to shove Zayn’s annoying, blistering voice out of my head and let fate take over. “Let's do it.”“But what happens when you get there?”I turn to look at her, putting on a brave face, even though I’m truly beginning to spiral. A little voice in my head asks me if I’ve actually thought this through. I likely haven’t. I’m definitely jumping to conclusions. I’m for sure doing something dumb and irreversible. I know, in my heart, that
ZaynThe arena in Moonrise is full of young men and women–the best of the best, hand-picked by Queen Maeve and her father, Commander Evander of the Ghost forces. The Ghosts mill about in their form-fitting, far more comfortable and sleek uniforms while knights like myself move more clunkily, trying to find pockets of shade while commanders go over their lists and generals, me included, keep our assigned men in check. “General Zayn!” I turn to the shout of Commander Wilcox, who waves me over to where he’s standing with Commander Heatherway. A group of warriors in their wolf forms glide past me at a trot. One of them nearly runs into me, but they skirt out of my way at the last possible second. It’s madness here. Barely organized. Hot as fucking hell. I reach the commanders. Wilcox jumps in immediately, saying, “The queen is sending three hundred warriors north through Veiled Valley this morning and another two hundred tomorrow morning to set up our camps and stations before we send
FallonNaomi cups her knees while I pace to and from the window in our favorite sitting room, in my suite, which adjoins hers. The shared door is open, and beyond, a flurry of maids quickly unpack her suitcases and trunks. “Tell me again. In detail.”“There’s not much else to say. Mom got a summons from Uncle Sydney. We had to travel to Crescent Falls last night, and now we’re back, and Mom’s turning around again to go to Maatua with a highly specialized selection of our royal forces.”“Because KiloKilo is threatening to attack?” I spit, furious. “I told everyone this would happen.”“In her defense, you did say you’d go to KiloKilo and marry some rando you’ve never met.”“This would have happened, regardless.” I smooth my hands over the bodice of my cream-colored gown with butter yellow trim–one of my all-time favorites. “I told them. I was right. I knew KiloKilo was up to something. I could have been there by now, ensuring peace between our Kingdoms. This never needed to happen. I w
ZaynI hate to admit that Fallon won this time. It took approximately two minutes of threats while waving around my employee file for me to find myself on the edge of my unmade bed with Fallon standing between my knees, her dainty hand gripping my shoulder to keep me still. She danced around the fact that she knows I’m not originally from the Roguelands. She made it clear that she’s under the impression I want my background, whatever it is, kept secret, which is why my file is so thin, and several important chunks on most forms have been left blank on purpose. Her parents didn’t seem to care, but Fallon does. She made a single promise to never ask about my past as long as I’d allow her to fix me up. So I agreed, even if her touch feels like a cool kind of fire–something foreign–something that threatens to undo everything I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t ever consider having for myself. “Stop moving. I can see your skull,” she snaps, dabbing the wound with pure rubbing alcohol. I ca
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
LexaAn entire day passes. I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until time bleeds together in my head. My mind pounds like a drum, my temples splitting, and the only thing keeping me lucid is a near constant array of healing drafts being poured down my throat every hour on the hour, as if t
Aris“You didn’t have to come,” Roman says. We walk side by side through the market that’s held in Ruby every weekend. It’s crowded with locals and summer tourists alike, but through the noise and bobbing crowd, I catch a glimpse of Posey’s reddish-blonde hair as she weaves toward a stall selling a
PoseyIt’s an overcast, drizzling day. I watch raindrops trickle down the circular windows of the one-room cabin in Aris’s sailboat, tracing their trails with my index finger. My stomach is tied in multiple tight knots as the boat rocks on the choppy water. Fog hugs the horizon as far as I can see.
LexaIt only takes one smooth motion for Kaleb to catch me around the middle and take me to the ground. My back hits the soft carpet with a thud that rattles my bones, and I jerk, diving to drive a knee between us. He gathers my wrists, pinning them above my head, and thrusts his knee between my le







