*Maddy*Isla told me to stay here. I should, I definitely should. Do I really want to see Isaac get killed, or allow himself to get killed because he thinks it’ll save his people? We never had a chance to figure this out together. One moment we were married, the next he was gone, and I had to untangle the matted threads of this mess myself. Hell, Ella knew a whole lot and never said a thing. I’m kind of mad at her. I don’t understand why she’d hide this from me. Me! The person who married her glowing, winged beast of a brother. Did she think he didn’t tell me about what he could do, what he was? I huff a breath as I crouch in the grass. I can’t see anything from down here, but I can hear the sounds of battle not far from where Isla told me to stay put. I bend a piece of grass, weaving it through my fingers as I debate my next move. Stay, and hide like a coward, keeping my fingers crossed that my mate, my husband, comes out of this alive, or go and see to that myself?I’m a part of

*Maddy*Several days have passed since Isaac woke up. I’m still processing it—him coming back from a coma, and the aftermath of the war. Everything seems too peaceful. The sudden shift from pre-war times when there was nothing but tension in the air to now feels too abrupt. The war ended before it began, really. A few weeks seems like nothing in the grand scheme of things. The past three months have been the hardest part about it. I basically just floated around the castle like a ghost, a shell of myself, praying to the Goddess every second I could spare to bring him back to me–to us. I rest my hands on my belly as I walk barefoot through the castle. It’s quiet here today. Ben and Emery went back to the Obsidian Temple territory several weeks ago to rebuild. Trinity and Rosie are back in Moorn with Elijah. Cassian practices daily at the training grounds on the far side of the village to learn to better move his wolf with only three legs, and Isla and Maddox tend to keep to themselv

*Maddy* The ballroom is totally transformed from floor to ceiling. The finest flowers in the kingdom stand in large, marble vases resting on tables covered in light blue tableclothes. Champagne flows, poured into crystal flutes, and graceful string music fills the air, rising above the chatter. I walk through the crowd, which parts to allow me to pass. I smile and bob my head at the people who bow and curtsey to me, their cheeks going pink as I meet their eyes. The fact that Isla and I were able to put this event together in a little under a week is a miracle in itself, and all over that surrounding villages and large cities beyond, similar celebrations are taking place to honor the dead and celebrate the victory of the war. Tonight’s celebration is specificaly for Isaac, my king, and my mate. My ivory gown of silk and satin trails behind me as I walk through the ballroom, stopping to chat with the Alphas and Lunas who’ve assembled. An overlay of silver stars flows from my ste

*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

*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