Sydney
I jolt upright, blinking into near total darkness. Moonlight sweeps over a cavernous space, illuminating darkened corridors and intricate carvings along the green-gray stone of the wall I’m facing. Condensation drips down the stones, gathering in pockets of moss.
Cool night air touches my skin as I scan the perimeter, catching sight of four gray, wolflike bodies bleeding green onto the tiles.
Reality sweeps over me like a tidal wave that washes me back into my body. I clutch my stomach, finding myself clothed somehow. I pull my shirt up and run my hand over my muscles. There’s no stab wound where Gabriel’s knife pierced my stomach.
“Syd?”
“Dad?”
A groan echoes off the walls as I rise to my knees and look around, spotting Dad on his side only a few feet away.
“Dad, Goddess fuck, what happened? How are you here?” I crawl to him, my pants soaking with the blood of all four rogues, and clutch Dad’s shirt. “Are you injured?”
“Surprisingly, no. What happened? I was tossed by one of the rogues and then–” He draws in a breath, his icy blue eyes going wide. “Sarah, where is she?”
My stomach hollows out as the memory of her standing beside me, gripping my arm with a phantom touch, hurtles back to the forefront of my mind. She appeared a moment before I’d nearly ended my life falling on Gabriel’s blade. She’d been dressed in… light. Appearing like an angel, like she’s walked out of the heavens to stop me from making a critical, life altering mistake.
My heart is beating out of rhythm as I help Dad to his feet. “SARAH?!”
“SARAH!” Dad shouts, our voices bouncing down the empty corridor at the base of the room that houses the orrery, echoing on and on.
I take off at a sprint down the corridor, my boots splashing through what could be water or blood, I don’t bother to check, and skid to a halt when a flash of silver catches the moonlight still stretching along the far wall.
My breath catches in my throat as I look down at Gabriel’s body, his blade still lodged in his heart. I hear Dad call out to Sarah again as I crouch and roughly pull the blade free, tucking it in my belt loop. “SARAH!”
A weak whisper drifts through the air. “I’m here.”
I hear Dad switch directions and start sprinting over the blood soaked tiles. I whirl, running back down the corridor to the open air of the orrery just as Sarah lifts her head.
She’s lying on the orrery, her body twisted around the pieces of metal holding up the renditions of the planets. Her long, pale blonde hair is caught in one of the stars. She winces as she tries to tug herself free.
“Sarah, hold still,” Dad commands as he grips the edge of the flat, round surface and pulls himself up. He pulls a pocket knife from his pocket and slices through her hair. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”
“Pass her down to me,” I call up to him, stretching my arms out. The surface of the orrery is well over a foot above my head, but within seconds Sarah is lowered into my waiting arms, and I crush my mate to my chest.
Her cry of relief resounds through our bond, plucking those tight, golden threads. “Thank the Goddess,” I breathe, cupping the back of her head and pressing her face against my neck as I fall to my knees.
The room around us trembles, disturbing the puddles of bloody water I’m kneeling in. Dad, standing on the edge of the orrery, grips the base of one of the planets and looks toward the sky where the moon is starting to fade from view with the incoming light of the morning sun.
Sarah, dressed in a sweater and jeans, the same outfit I’d left her in back at the manor, lifts her head to look up, her eyes burning the brightest violet I’ve ever seen. She looks pale and exhausted.
“About damn time,” Dad growls as a thick, heavy blanket of dark, whirling power settles over us and disperses in a matter of seconds.
I can only hear the sound of someone’s splashing footsteps before the wet blanket of magic fades enough to see again. Uncle Ryatt, looking absolutely, unapologetically murderous, steps out of his fog of shadows holding his Shadowsword, the gems gleaming in the night air.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls, sweeping the perimeter of the room before his eyes land on Dad.
Dad decides it might be better to stay where he is based on the look on Ryatt’s face. But then Ryatt’s eyes slide to mine and soften.
“Gabriel’s body is down that hallway,” I tell him, my voice scratchy and somewhat pained.
“We encountered rogues. Four of them.” Dad jumps down, landing with agile precision to splash Ryatt with the foul, bloody water.
My uncle scowls as he sheaths his sword down his back and lowers his hood. “Is everyone all right?”
I clutch Sarah closer, feeling how her heart is beating out of rhythm. She clutches my shirt so tight her hand is trembling, but she’s whole. She’s whole, and she’s here.
And we’re safe.
“We’re fine,” Dad sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I have more questions than answers right now, so don’t bother.”
“You’re in Rifthold, you know,” Ryatt says, turning toward the void of darkness where Gabriel’s body lies. “We have to leave, now.”
“Are there more of these creatures?” Dad asks.
Ryatt shakes his head. “No, but I can’t stay. This place makes my powers want to shrivel and die. I need to get back to Moonrise immediately. You’re lucky I even came to your aid–”
“What’s going on?” I ask, noticing the slight hitch in Ryatt’s voice, which is totally unlike him. I imagine the worst–war. More attacks, more death. More people like Gabriel coming out of the woodwork to try to hurt my family and take my mate.
Ryatt sighs, his shoulders slumping. Even Dad catches the odd behavior and arches his brow at his brother-in-law. “Ryatt?”
“Kenna’s in labor,” he chokes. “Evander is in Crescent Falls cleaning up this mess on your side of the mountains, I assume. I can’t reach him, and she’s–she’s struggling. It’s been several days. I sensed something off and came to investigate, thinking Artyom and Evander accidentally spirited here, but found this instead.” He sweeps his arm around the orrery, his gaze landing on Sarah. “Is she all right?”
I try to nudge her a bit, but Sarah’s eyes are closed. “I think she’s asleep.”
“Drained her powers, most likely,” Dad says, and I can tell by the look in his eyes as he stares at my mate that I missed something incredible. They battled together. Dad must have brought her here to find me. And this?
I look at what remains of the rogues and shudder, instinctively running my hand over Sarah’s arm and side to check for injuries.
“We’re going to Moonrise, now,” Ryatt says, stomping toward us. Dad follows, putting a hand on my shoulder as I close my eyes in anticipation for the snapping sensation that comes with jumping from one place to another.
I hear Ryatt unsheathe his sword, the metal singing an ancient song as the tip meets the stone tiles at my knees, and then the world twists into a depthless kind of darkness, taking my breath with it.
* * *
“Get healers into their room, immediately,” Ella shouts behind me as I race with Sarah in my arms down a hallway of pure gold with archways overlooking a stunning sunrise. The lake is bathed in golden hues as the city soaks up every color cast by the incoming sun. It’s a sharp contrast to the dark gloom of the hell we encountered only hours ago.
I’m right in assuming Ella is sending me to my usual rooms in the family’s personal wing in her castle in Moonrise. I skid around a sharp corner, following a maid who throws open the double doors leading into my old apartment so I can dash inside.
Hurried footsteps follow me in.
“She’s filthy! Do not lay her on those sheets yet!” Ella cries out, so I lay my mate on the floor instead, pushed and shoved back by several maids, a few healers in their gray robes, and to my great surprise and unease, a trio of mystics.
I eye them with skepticism as their crystal masks reflect the sunlight through the tall, open air windows. One of them lifts her head to look right at me, her milky, swirling eyes locking with mine.
I tear my gaze away as Ella grabs me by the arm and pulls me out of the small foyer at the entrance of the apartment. “You need to shower and report to Ryatt’s office.”
“I understand.” She lets go, but I turn to her, noticing the lines of concern creasing her eyes. “Is Kenna okay?”
“She’ll be fine. She’s a midwife.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “She’s waiting for Evander.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Get that foul stench of rogue off, first of all.” Her slight smile unravels some of the angst tightening my chest. “Other than that, Ryatt will be waiting for you in his office once you’ve cleaned up. Sarah will be fine. Trust me. She just needs to rest. So do you.”
I watch her whirl, her crimson cloak flowing out behind her as she’s followed out of the foyer by two of her lead maids.
I turn to the group gathered around Sarah. Part of me wants to push through them, to stop them from poking and prodding her, but this is the safest place she could be. I do give the mystics another cautionary glance, finding the third one still watching me closely. I turn from them, and it takes all of my strength to do so.
I unravel completely in the shower. The nearly scalding water isn’t enough to stop my body from trembling. I press my hands to the tiled wall and my head, watching blood and other unmentionable grime swirl into the drain until my skin is red and raw, and the entire gilded bathroom is washed in hot steam.
When I leave the bathroom, dressed in a pale blue T-shirt and very basic dark pants in the Eastonian style, Sarah has been laid out in the center of the four poster bed I’ve spent many a night in while visiting Kenna and her family.
Someone braided her hair. She’s clean, her cheeks a rosy pink instead of splotched with dirt and blood. A healer stands on the far side of the bed holding a small glass obelisk in the palm of her hand. A sphere of pale yellow light swirls above it. Smaller ribbons of multicolored light dance within the sphere in the rhythm of a heartbeat.
I don’t bother asking what it is. Eastonia doesn’t need EKG machines, do they? Not when they have magic.
I edge toward the bed. The healer–a pretty, dark haired woman in her thirties–turns her head and meets my gaze. “She’s all right. You needn't worry yourself.”
“She’s my mate–”
“As so,” she cuts in tartly, but gives me a gentle smile, “let us do our jobs, Your Grace. There’s food and drink laid out for you in King Ryatt’s office. Your father is there, waiting for you.”
A maid comes through the double doors leading to the foyer of the private apartment carrying a tray of dried herbs and several vials of swirling liquid.
My first thought is to physically remove these women from the room and lock them out. I have healing powers. I can tend to my own mate.
But I look down at my hands. I’m exhausted, and my powers are a muted hum through my veins. I’d barely be able to heal any scrapes Sarah has right now.
A tickle in my skull forces me to turn toward the door and push through it. I’m being summoned.
A few minutes later, I’m walking into Ryatt’s office. The air is rich with coffee and a hint of bourbon as I sink into an armchair and rest my face in my hands.
“Drink this,” Dad says, nudging my shoulder with a coffee mug.
“Wait,” Ryatt says with effort, like his mouth is full. I hear a quick pop and then liquid pours. I look up at Ryatt, who has a cork between his teeth as he pours a copious amount of whiskey into the steaming mug of coffee.
“Goddess, Ryatt, are you trying to kill him or take the edge off?” Dad narrows his eyes playfully but hands me the coffee mug.
I nod my thanks but can’t bring myself to drink it just yet. Everything that happened last night feels like a blur. I don’t know if I just don’t understand it, or if Sarah messed with my memories again.
“So,” Ryatt says, leaning on his desk and crossing his arms over his chest, “your mate can turn back time.”
I look up at my uncle, shaking my head.
Fuck, this is a lot to take in.
I take a sip of the coffee, then drain the mug, extending it to my dad. “Another, please.”