Brie
I like to think I’m a faithful believer in the Moon Goddess. I never skip church. I celebrate Her holidays, say Her prayers, and dedicated at least ten years of my schooling to Her lore and scripture.
I squint at the sky through my window in the tower, frowning at the moon. She’s up there laughing at me, isn’t She? Is She entertained by my predicament? The mate bond She ordained to ruin my plans?
I sink onto the bench under the window and rest my arms on the windowsill, watching the clear, brilliant night sky slowly rotate over Veiled Valley. The buildings and bridges glisten in the moonlight, but across the lush, green valley, lights twinkle against a sea of emerald.
The Fortress, as my siblings and I have called it since we got a grasp on vocal vocabulary, is nothing more than a big, square, gray block built out of the far mountainside. I’m sure it was a foreboding, albeit lovely, sight to look at way back in the day, millennia ago, when it was built, but now I’m glaring at its twinkling lights and cursing the wolves who built it.
Within those gray walls rest the royal warriors of Veiled Valley–those who are too young to have mates and family homes for themselves. Single men, mostly, I’m sure. I’ve never been inside.
But I know for a fact that Dad’s little Ghost minions who don’t go to visit family wherever they’re from are being housed there this week while they’re on leave.
That includes Logan.
I press my forehead against my arm and squeeze my eyes shut… but only for a moment. I’m pulled back to the view, taking it in, trying to force myself not to look at the barracks and ponder what room my stupid, unwanted mate is sleeping in tonight.
This is wildly unfair, in my humble opinion. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve understood my true purpose in this family. I am here for Maeve. She is my purpose. Everything I’ve ever done is to make her ascension to her rightful throne easier on everyone.
I have a reputation to maintain, and that’s grown harder over the past year with the tabloids running wild now that all of the royal cousins and siblings in my generation are coming of age.
I groan as I look down at the magazine on the far side of the bench. A picture of Blake, wearing sunglasses and a finely tailored button-up shirt, stares back at me. It’s a paparazzi photo, of course. He was spotted leaving some exclusive nightclub with a random girl on his arm. He’s the It Boy in Crescent Falls, every girl's celebrity crush.
I’m in the magazine, too, unfortunately. A picture of me in a sparkling gown last year at a gala held by my aunt Sarah, the Queen of Crescent Falls, takes up a corner section of a gossip article about what we’re all up to–and with whom.
Maeve had raged when she brought it home, slamming it on the table so hard my lunch plate rattled as she furiously explained what had been written about me.
But I’m beyond being shocked. Having someone write that the dress was doing nothing for my exceedingly curvy body isn’t anything new.
What was shocking, however, was the line about how it was rumored I’d been hunting for a husband, followed by a rumor that the crown princess of Veiled Valley was powerless, seemingly a plant to win public favor.
I tried to act unfazed, but the words stung.
It wasn’t the writer’s fault. Only a select few know I’m adopted. My parents and extended family want to keep it that way for my own sake… and this is why.
The older I get, the more my differences stand out when surrounded by powerful, magical family members.
I look up as the curtains swing closed on their own accord, followed by the soft squeal of the windows rolling shut. When I don’t get up right away, the spirit of the castle gives me a little nudge by ripping the pillow I’ve been leaning against out from under me while simultaneously folding down the sheets and duvet on my bed, patting an imprint on my perfectly fluffed pillow.
“I’m not tired,” I argue, but the magazine zips off the bench and roughly lands in the trash can next to my vanity. I smirk, rubbing my tired eyes. “I’ll miss you, you know that? Maybe you should finally break free of these walls and come to Maatua with me. I think we both could use a vacation.”
A soft rustling of air echoes around the room like a laugh.
I don’t fall asleep until the early hours of morning, and even with only an hour of fitful, broken sleep, I’m up before the sun.
***
“It’s only a month,” Mom says, twirling one of the curls falling around my face around her finger. “You’ll get a suntan and drink fruity drinks all day. Maddy has a wonderful library with all the books you could ever want. You’ll come home feeling refreshed, and Maeve and I already have plans to come visit in two weeks.”
I nod, giving my mom a smile I hope conveys excitement, but my entire body is starting to thrum to life. My cheeks heat, turning a bright red. Mom frowns, pressing her fingers beneath my chin and tilting my face upward.
“Brie, are you all right? You’re warm to the touch–”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, sniffing indignantly while stepping out of her way before she can lay a hand over my forehead, which I’m certain is on fire.
“Are you sure? You look flushed. Are you running a fever? I can fix that–”
“Just nervous for the journey is all.” I grip the handle of my suitcase until my knuckles turn white. “You know I hate traveling.”
Mom nods, relaxing a bit, but grips my shoulder and pulls me in for a hug.
I hug her back, but my eyes are locked on figures speaking just beyond the grand entrance of the castle where a black SUV is parked and idling in the warm, early morning air.
All I know is that Dad tasked Logan with escorting me to Maatua. I can’t spirit like my family members can. I get incredibly sick when I do, something even the herbs Mom gives Dad can’t help. My body simply rejects the magic. I nearly died the last time I tried.
So, I have to travel on foot… or by car or boat.
Which means I’ll be on a boat with Logan for a week, at least.
He nods at something Dad says. I watch the way his shoulders stretch in his tight, long-sleeved Henley shirt–a very casual choice considering the Ghost armor I’d seen him in yesterday morning. He looks suddenly familiar again, his rough, brutal features bleeding back into the farm boy from Silverhide I remember from my childhood. He looks over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine in the haze of morning sunlight. Green-hued hazel, like polished serpentinite. I remember that about him from a memory so distant it’s hard to conjure the details.
I was… a child. He’d saved Maeve from that rogue witch. He’d kept her safe.
He holds my gaze while Mom continues to squeeze me. Only when she pulls away, murmuring assurances about my journey, does he turn his gaze back to Dad.
“You can return with the boat, and Ryatt has already signed off on three months of leave,” Dad tells Logan as they step off the porch.
I follow with my suitcase, craning to hear the conversation.
“I don’t need three months of leave.”
“You take a month every summer to help Silverhide with their harvest. You have an extra two months now to spend with family while you’re at it.”
I watch Logan’s eyes for any sliver of emotion I can find, but he’s… cold. Utterly serious. His sharp jaw clenches, but that brief flicker of muscle could have easily been the sunlight playing over his dark stubble.
He didn’t shave this morning, that’s obvious. He looks slightly unkempt and tired as he nods, forgoing arguing against my dad’s orders.
I tear my eyes from Logan at the last second before Dad could catch me staring. He braces his hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with a secret smile he only uses around his family. “Remember what we talked about.”
“How could I forget?” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “You’ll regret this,” I tell him then turn to Mom. “Now Maeve has you all to herself. How do you think that’s going to go?”
“That’s why we’re coming to visit you,” Mom says with a knowing smile. “I love you, Brie.”
Dad presses a kiss to my forehead before turning me toward the car.
Logan walks over, takes my suitcase, and puts it in the trunk. I slide into the passenger seat, inhaling rapidly through my nose to try to catch my breath without my parents noticing my obvious distress. I look out the tinted window as Logan talks with my parents for another moment before he turns to the car. His shoulders fall just a touch as he scans the passenger side. He can’t see my pained expression through the tinted glass, thank the Goddess, but judging by his expression, I’m wondering if he shares in my misery over our situation.
My chest feels impossible tight. Prickles of misplaced anticipation fizzle through my body, threatening to ignite a fire in my blood as he climbs into the driver’s seat.
He takes up most of the front seat. His elbow brushes my arm as he settles, gripping the steering wheel.
I don’t even blink until he’s driven away from the castle and past the gates. When the gates close behind us, I close my eyes, my lips parting to tell him what needs to happen now… but he beats me to it.
“You need to reject me,” he says.
Relief momentarily blinds me before dissipating as quickly as it came. Thank the Goddess he feels the same way, and I wasn’t going completely insane. “Will it hurt?”
“I’ve heard it will. It’ll hurt less for you, I assume, if you initiate it.”
I look out the window at the city blurring by as he drives us down into the depths of the valley, where a small river port will take us to an even larger port on the sea where a yacht from our family fleet is waiting for me. Apprehension coils through my veins like a snake, twisting and writhing. “What happens once we reject each other?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He exhales, his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. “I assume nothing.”
“We’d be breaking a bond destined by the Goddess.”
“She probably has bigger things to worry about.” His hazel eyes briefly flicker to mine. The only way I can describe the look he gives me is… smug disdain. “Plus, I’m not an Alpha, Princess.”
I look out the window, biting down hard on my lower lip to stop from lashing out. Embarrassment creeps through my body like a heat wave, burning to life in the form of a deep blush. So, he’s heard, hasn’t he? That the Princess of Veiled Valley is on the prowl?
I’m not shocked. “Well, my desperation and repeated failures are obviously the talk of the town.”
He says nothing as we reach the river port, which is nothing more than a row of bait and tackle shops, a ticket station, and a dock with a dozen or so boats the size of large SUVs. A ferry bobs in the water nearby, however, and the ticket station is teeming with passengers waiting for the ferry to make its early morning arrival.
Half an hour from now, I’ll be sitting on the deck of that boat, far, far away from Logan. I sigh in relief.
“We share a family,” he amends, roughly putting the car in park, but he doesn’t make any moves to get out. In fact, he swiftly locks the car at the very second I yank on the handle. I whirl to throw him a glare, but his eyes… they’re searching mine, going a shade darker than his usual polished, imperfect jade. “I only meant I’ve heard how they feel about it.”
“That’s a bold thing to say,” I snap, pulling on the handle, “given that you’ve refused Ryan and Aviva’s love at every turn.”
Now, that struck a nerve.
Logan exhales deeply, nostrils flaring, before shifting his weight and turning to face me. His proximity is… too close. Far too close. His arm brushes my midsection as he reaches past me to physically uncoil my fingers from around the door handle. “I had no intention of ever settling down and having a mate. You had no intention of being mated to anyone lower than an Alpha. We’re not suited. You don’t want this, that was clear from the moment we saw each other again yesterday. We’re going to reject each other, Princess Brie. It’s what we both want.”
He’s so close that the words drift over my skin, igniting that fire driven by the bond that's practically begging me to change his mind.
But I’m not in my right mind. He’s right. Neither of us want this.
Maybe it’s easier to swallow knowing he doesn’t want this, and I’m not going to break his heart… not that it mattered to me… right?
He doesn’t pull away. He remains close, his chin only an inch from my forehead as he looks through the tinted passenger window, his eyes scanning the dock.
I can hear his heart beating. A gentle, thump, thump, thump. He’s calm, totally unaffected by the conversation we just had. He smells like cedar and the salty breeze coming off a cold sea.
“I reject you as my mate,” I rasp, and he looks down.
“I accept your rejection,” he whispers, but he’s still so close and I’m… I’m wondering if… maybe I haven’t thought this through–
A snapping sensation erupts in my chest, stealing my breath. I arch against the seat, squeezing my eyes shut. Pain like I’ve never felt before surges through my body, turning to a dull ache that throbs and echoes through every muscle and bone.
I open my watering eyes when I hear the doors unlock and feel Logan moving away. I look at him, breathless, and notice the bright red mark on his wrist where I’d grabbed him, sinking my nails into his skin. I don’t remember doing that.
He closes the door before I can say anything further.