Kenna
It’s quiet here. The golden walls and spiraling 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.
Behind him, bookshelves stretch toward the domed, muraled ceiling.
A map lies on his desk beneath untidy papers and a scattering of old paperweights. He sighs heavily, checks his watch–a rather expensive and gaudy gift from my uncle Isaac, the Alpha King of Crescent Falls–and leans back in his leather office chair.
“You’re supposed to be packing,” he says, crossing an ankle over a knee as I edge toward his desk and lean my hip against the side of it.
“I’m packed.”
“That didn’t take long.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling, to the sweeping depictions of some battle that took place during the Great War when the Moon Goddess rebelled against the gods who wanted to tether her, to leave her powerless, and her people in shackles. I click my tongue and look down at my manicured nails. “Aunt Maddy is my size. She said I could borrow whatever gowns I need while I’m there. I didn’t see a point in bringing any of my own. They take up so much room!”
“The fashions in Crescent Falls are different from here, Ken. Are you sure?”
I run my hands down the vibrant violet pants I’m wearing–made of silk with swirling embroidery–that cuff around my ankles. My top, with its long, loose sleeves that gather at the wrists and shows off my midriff, is made of the same fine fabric. I shrug.
“I want to fit in.”
Dad stares at me for a long, long time saying nothing.
I run my tongue along my lower teeth and give him another little shrug. “I packed two gowns of my own.”
“Good,” he finally says softly, and looks back down at the paper he’s reading.
I can tell by his gruff demeanor that he’s as wound up about this upcoming trip to visit my cousins in Crescent Falls as I am but for completely different reasons.
To him, this is an opportunity to stress about my safety for two months. I imagine he’ll pace back and forth in front of his desk, or the magic mirror he uses to call my uncle, until the floor turns black from scuff marks. Mom, too, will worry. They always do.
It’s because I’m not like them.
I watch my dad, Alpha King Ryatt of Eastonia, mark a few lines on the paper before signing the bottom of it. He’s all sharp lines and rigid muscles. He has a spine of steel, and a heart just as strong.
He met his match in my mom, Ella. The Queen of Eastonia. The Luna of Moonrise. The Firestone Witch.
While my parents would cut someone down just for looking at them the wrong way, I’ve always been more of a pacifist. I lean toward kindness, and I’m far too trusting, too soft, too willing to please.
My soft heart isn’t interested in conquering kingdoms or squashing my foes. No, there’s only one thing I want, and I have two months to find it in Crescent Falls before it’s too late.
I roll my lower lip between my teeth and smile as my dad meets my eyes again, his gaze softer than before. “Say what you want to say, Dad.”
“I don’t like this at all.”
Sighing heavily, I hop onto his desk. “Why not?”
“You’re practically putting yourself out to auction–”
“It's a Moon Festival, Dad. There’s going to be balls every night to help people like me find their mates.”
“There will be more balls held here, in Eastonia.”
“I went to every mating ball and festival held this spring, Dad. I even went to Tarsian, remember? I didn’t find anyone.”
Dad narrows his eyes and blows out his breath at the mention of Tarsian, the desert kingdom across the river boundary that used to be the marker between the Roguelands and Rifthold. Now, Alpha King Jaxon rules over Tarsian and maintains a strained relationship with my parents, although deep down, I think he and my dad might actually be good friends, but would never admit to it.
“You only turned twenty-one this spring. You’re so young–”
“But I’m old enough to take over Veiled Valley this fall when Grandpa Westfall steps down.”
A hush falls over the room.
When Dad doesn’t say anything, I continue, “I did everything you wanted me to do, Dad. I graduated from college. I trained with you and Grandpa. I trained with Mom….” I taper off. “I need one summer of freedom before I take over as Luna of Veiled Valley, one summer to try to find my mate, and then…” And then my real training begins. Training that includes preparing myself to be queen of this entire kingdom one day.
My stomach curls in my belly at the thought.
I couldn’t be farther from my mother in temperament and poise. During my childhood, I was wild, practically uncontrollable, but that changed as I matured. I excelled in school. I learned to keep my enormous and varied powers under lock and key until I needed to harness them, and I can harness those powers well.
I attended the exclusive Moonrise Academy of Mystical Arts–a school for witches and shifters with special gifts–and graduated this spring as valedictorian of my class with a specialty in healing and midwifery.
I’m a skilled healer. I have knowledge of, and can harness the use of, dark magic, including curses. I can create and control magic fires that burn cold and silver and turn my body into a mere shadow of mist.
But I’m nothing like them. I haven’t ever used my powers in battle. I’ve never needed to.
I’ve never wanted to.
“I don’t want to rule alone,” I say, and my voice breaks around the words.
Dad looks at me with so much love in his eyes that it makes me consider not stifling the tears now brimming on my lashes.
“I don’t want you to go and come home disappointed, Kenna.”
His words ring through his office.
I chew my lip, unable to meet his eyes. As a family, we’ve skirted around this subject for a long, long time. While I am, most definitely, a witch, my wolf abilities are minimal in comparison. Shifting is fine and dandy, but I’m clumsy, tiny, and comparatively weak in my wolf form, and there’s question about my ability to feel any kind of mate bond whatsoever because of it. My witch side is just too strong and overwhelms my wolf gifts.
That hasn’t stopped me from obsessing over finding my mate, though.
“And you won’t be ruling alone,” Dad says, rising and organizing the papers. “Evander will be your Beta, like Granger is mine.”
It’s like a knife to the chest.
I stifle my emotions, turning my expression to a mask of steel, but he catches the single flicker of uncertainty behind my eyes.
“He’ll come around, Kenna.”
“I haven’t spoken to him in five years.”
“He’s been busy.”
“Mhm…” I nod. Busy, sure. If that’s what they want to call it. Busy roaming whatever kingdom he’s called to serve as a Ghost, the greatest and most lethal kind of spy the Allied Kingdoms have.
Right now, I think he’s in Celestoria. I honestly don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the day after my sixteenth birthday. I haven’t talked to him, either. I doubt he wants to give up a life of danger and adventure to stand beside me in Veiled Valley, just like I doubt he ever thinks about me at all.
I slide off Dad’s desk and cross my arms under my chest, my mind reeling over the past twenty-one years of my life all at once, picking through every memory of Evander despite my internal desperate pleas not to.
He was my best friend. We grew up together. We played in the woods and at the lake shore. We had sleepovers and trained together until we started school and went our separate ways for the first time.
It was my fault we grew apart. One day, I didn’t want to play in the woods anymore. My interests shifted from climbing trees to playing with dolls, then shifted further to my piano and the romance novels that cover every surface of my room. Evander fell to the wayside, and it was natural. He is a boy, and I’m a girl. I’m a witch, and he’s a shifter. I’m a princess, and he’s… a lethal machine trained to inflict quiet, swift death.
I find it hard to swallow as I turn from Dad and pretend to be invested in his bookshelves. My mind races to our last encounter. Evander, having been gone for years while training in Tarsian, returned to Moonrise shortly after my sixteenth birthday.
I’d been sitting outside reading a book on the terrace overlooking the private garden in the back of the castle. I didn’t realize he was there until he said my name, and I turned.
It’s hard to describe it. I didn’t recognize him at first. The goofy little boy with freckles, copper blond hair, and startling emerald eyes had turned into… something beautiful, but also dark and empty.
The rest of the encounter is buried deep, deep down in my memory. I refuse to think about it, or how much it hurt when he tore through the friendship we’d built and left ashes in his wake, with no remorse for my sensitive feelings. For my heart.
“Kenna?”
“Did you say something?” I ask Dad. He’s staring at me right now, his brow furrowed.
“Are you all right?”
“Where’s Mom?” I clear my throat, giving him my best smile.
He arches a brow and sighs. “She had a meeting in Old Moonrise with the mystics. She’ll be home in time for dinner she said.”
I nod, trying again to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale. Are you sick? Maybe we should postpone your trip–”
“I’m fine,” I say hurriedly, shaking my head.
Dad walks over to me and lays a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I have to look up at him to gaze him directly in the eyes. I’m several inches shorter than my mother, which means I’m over a head and a half shorter than my dad. I don't know how I lost the genetic lottery in terms of height and emotional composition, but here I am, short and trying not to burst into tears.
“Don’t rush into anything. You’ll find your mate one day. It shouldn’t be your priority right now.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right but… I’ve looked all over Eastonia for any flicker of a mate bond. I’ve attended countless balls, visited almost every village here, and nothing.
In two months, I’ll move to Veiled Valley and rule as their Luna, alone. My opportunities to find my mate will be significantly diminished.
I know I sound pathetic. I know that I have everything I could ever want. I’ve never needed for anything, never gone hungry, never been brutalized or scared.
But I want what my parents have.
I want love, more than anything. Even if I can’t feel the mate bond, I at least want something close to it.
Dad kisses my forehead. “Don’t let Ryan get you into trouble, either.”
“I can’t make any promises about that,” I laugh.