RyattThe bartender at the quaint inn we’re staying at for the night pours me another glass of whiskey neat. I nod my thanks as little jolts of pain run up my spine, skittering like mice. It took three jumps to get from that hell-hole where my daughter was born back to Rifthold. I was barely standing by the end of it, and after two full days traveling on foot, we’ve finally made it to a familiar pack, a familiar village, and are back in the Roguelands.We’ll be close enough to Veiled Valley that I can spirit us the rest of the way there after another day of travel.I turn back to the table where I’ve just left the Alpha and Beta of this pack to finish their platters of roast beef, bread, and stew. Granger already retired to bed an hour ago, and the witch, still unnamed, is visiting with the local healer.Westfall has made himself scarce during our journey here and is fine acting as a scout while we navigate the Roguelands. Something has to be done, however. He’s on edge and flighty. I

EllaWe’ve spent several days in the castle… doing nothing, and it’s been the best three days of my life. Every morning I wake to Ryatt laying Kenna down between us and crawling back into bed for a few moments of peace as a family. Tender kisses and soft laughs fill those blissful minutes before we drag ourselves out of bed to dress for the day.Amanda and Granger haven’t been seen since we came home, but that was expected. Today is different, however. Today, we all gather in Ryatt’s office as heavy rain glides down the windows, and a storm brews outside, cloaking Veiled Valley in sheets of heavy gray mist.While the rest of us recovered from months of travel and torment, Isaac has been… well, my brother is the most annoying kind of tourist. He’s been out with Westfall every hour of the day for three days buying gifts to try to butter Maddy up when he returns home. He’s seen every inch of Veiled Valley, talked to just about everyone, and has been trying to figure out how he can mimic

EllaGiselle watches me as I dip my toes in the lake. The little stone dock is probably older than the coven itself and so narrow only one person at a time can fit at the end.It’s not a full moon, but I can feel power all around me as I shed my cloak.I look over my shoulder at where Isaac and Ryatt are standing on the shore, their faces shielded by shadows. Ryatt’s sword glimmers in the moonlight, and Isaac looks odd standing next to him dressed in khaki pants and a blue button up shirt. He was wearing them when he breached the veil, apparently, and had them mended in the meantime.I exhale deeply, humming to myself as I look past them toward the twinkling lights of the coven. Somewhere in the depths of the glimmering village, Amanda, Granger, Westfall, and Cressendra are waiting, watching over Kenna for us.None of us knows what’s going to happen. I’m not even sure how to do this.But as I sweep my gaze back toward my mate and my brother, I see the mystics appearing in their white

KennaIt’s quiet here. The golden walls and spirling columns soak up the sun as I walk steadily toward my dad’s office. Beyond giant ceiling-height windows, the sparkling city of Moonrise, the capital of Eastonia, spreads out in a sea of cream and gold until it touches the banks of a lake the color of polished turquoise. On the opposite shore, at the base of a towering network of mountains, sits Old Moonrise–the original witch coven native to the Roguelands. Once, twenty or so years ago, there used to be a palace built of crystal sitting on a ridge overlooking the old village and the lake. Until, well, my mother destroyed it. I smile softly at the thought of my mom and pick up my pace, my sandals clacking against the white marble tiles. I turn a sharp corner, nodding hello to a trio of maids who pass me, and slip into my dad’s office like a shadow. He looks up from the massive mahogany desk in the center of the room, his dark brow lifting as I gently close the door behind me. Be

KennaA sharp scraping sound pulls my attention from the book in my lap. I blink then whirl in the chair I’ve been lounging in for the better part of three hours to find my cousin Ryan dragging a massive grill across his back patio. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask. “Dinner.” He grins then picks up the grill like it weighs nothing and walks to the far side of the patio where the concrete gives way to a stretch of emerald green grass before it meets the woods. I huff out a breath as Ryan continues his show of strength. “You’re such a show off, Ryan.”It’s true, and he knows it. He simply winks at me and walks back into his house–a large log home with several bedrooms, sparse furnishing, and an assortment of manly decorations like the mounted buffalo head over the fireplace… with a glittery blue thong hanging from one of the horns. This place is a party house, plain and simple, and I’m not surprised in the slightest. Ryan has always been the wild one of the twins, and the pack h