Marianna
Sarah and Sydney are with Skye, standing against the railing around the massive orrery made of copper and glass. Planets spin, tilting on their axes, while the models of stars whirl around on no set course. Blake steps to the side but keeps his hand on my arm, tugging me close, while I gaze in awe at the marvel of magical engineering taking up the entire room. We’re the only people here. We have the whole place to ourselves. The room is much warmer, thankfully, than the rest of the temple.
It’s my nerves going haywire, I suppose.
I watch as Sydney picks Skye up and swings her onto his shoulders, walking out of sight around the back of the orrery.
Blake sighs deeply but smiles as he says under his breath, “My dad can read the positioning of the stars better than my mom can. They have a small orrery at the castle in Crescent Falls, actually. My grandfather Isaac designed it, and my grandma Maddy secretly had it built for him as a present.”
“I didn’t realize that these powers run so deeply in your family.”
Another deep sigh. “It’s complicated.” He twines his fingers in mine as we watch Sydney rise on his toes to allow Skye to reach for one of the planets–this one made of glass or crystal, swirling with sunlight. “My grandfather is very powerful. He has powers of manipulation–of objects. He can unlock anything, a talent my father and I also possess. We can break through shields, spirit from one place to another, and while they possess some mystic abilities… I got most of mine from my mother.”
“How does that work, exactly?”
He leans back, his shoulder resting on the alabaster wall. “Our family has some theories about where our powers came from, but it’s, again, incredibly complicated. In my case, my mother is a mystic, and when it comes to Ella’s line… Ryatt is also a powerful being, so Kenna and her children were passed those gifts in one way or the other, but when it comes to my great-grandparents….” He tapers off, staring absently at the orrery, like he’s looking past it into the very stars that power it. “Isla was given her powers of healing and light as a child. There used to be a magical waterfall in Maatua, but its powers have waned over the last century. The going theory about how Isla passed her gifts to her children–to my grandfather, at least–is that she died giving birth to him. Both of them died, actually. Maddox had a special diamond–the Diamond of Faith, they called it–and she was clutching it to keep it safe while a battle raged outside the castle walls.”
“I learned about that battle in school,” I tell him, meeting his eyes, but he’s not looking in my direction. He’s still gazing at the orrery, his brow slightly furrowed.
“It solidified his position as Alpha King, yes.” He finally looks down at me, his stern expression softening. “We believe the diamond brought her back to life, and my grandfather, as well. From there, Grandpa Isaac began developing certain gifts that aligned with Isla–light, healing, but his beast form was… new. Ella kept her powers a secret until she left with Ryatt to Eastonia, but the theory about her, and the Firestone blood in our family’s veins, comes from Maddox, actually.”
I blink, trying to envision the complicated genetics that now run in my daughter.
Blake continues, “Our family was exceedingly powerful for three generations, but in mine, we’ve noticed some patterns some in the family find alarming.”
“Like what?”
“I am the only child of my parents to possess any gifts at all,” he says quietly. “My brothers and sisters are normal shifters–no visions, no abilities to spirit from place to place, nothing. Misty, the most powerful of her generation, didn’t pass her gifts of light and mist to her children, but Adrian, her oldest, I believe might be hiding his powers if he has them.” He looks down at his hands before curling them into fists. “Lexa, Ryan’s daughter, is incredibly gifted in the wolf arts. But she’s still young, and if she has a beast form, like Ryan, it hasn’t shown itself yet. No one in that line has healing gifts. In essence, the powers Isla passed down to my line of the family are going away.”
We both look at Skye.
“She,” he says under his breath, “is the exception.”
I find it hard to swallow and quickly steer the conversation away from Skye. “What about Maeve’s side of the family?”
Blake hums a sigh. “They’ve only gotten more powerful.”
“Why them and not your side?”
“That’s a very good question. They’re all from Eastonia, for one, where witches and other beings are plentiful. Ryatt has dormant Firestone blood–men don’t have Firestone powers but carry the genetics required, which explains Maddox’s contribution. He and Isla had Ella, and we believe Isla’s powers and Maddox’s dormant powers ignited her Firestone gifts, and then she found Ryatt, who made those gifts even stronger in their daughter, who passed those powers to her children.”
“If we have another baby, would they be like Skye? Or your siblings?” I feel my body tense the second the words leave my mouth. I press my fingers to my lips as a blush spreads like wildfire across my cheeks. “I–I just mean–you mentioned none of your siblings have gifts, and it seems to be the first baby that gets any powers at all.”
He steps a little closer, leaning down to brush his reply over the top of my ear. “Why are you turning bright red, Marianna?”
I don’t think I can blush any deeper.
“When we have another baby,” he whispers, “it won’t matter if they have powers or not. I wouldn’t care. That would be the last thing on my mind.”
“And what would be on your mind, then?”
“Making up for lost time,” he says, and my heart lurches as he slowly pulls away to look at Skye, who’s currently using her powers to light up several of the planets, turning the glass a soft violet–just like her eyes.
“I leave for Veiled Valley tonight,” Blake says. “But I have a few hours. Let’s go back to the castle. They’ll be fine here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Come with me,” he whispers and moves us toward the door, turning his back on the orrery.
***
Blake
Marianna moves through the music shop, her eyes wide while she takes in the instruments strung along the walls. I turn as the shop’s owner returns from the back holding a violin case, his dark brown eyes crinkling while he gives me a tight, professional smile. “Your timing is impeccable, Blake,” he says casually, lifting the case onto the counter I’ve been leaning against while Marianna loses all sense of time and direction in a store full of music. He opens the case and steps back, motioning to the glossy black violin resting against a cushion of red velvet.
I can readily admit I have no idea what I’m looking at. The brands and craftsmanship of string instruments go right over the top of my head, but I do know this violin in particular cost me a small fortune. It’s nearly as expensive as the entire fucking house I’m designing on the outskirts of Moonrise.
The shop owner, Markus, carefully picks up the violin. The black wood catches the artificial light and glimmers like it’s lit from within. A sharp gasp echoes toward me, and suddenly Marianna is beside us, her eyes bright, wide, and a deep blue as she looks at the gift I ordered… weeks ago, when I first found out she was joining the Moonrise Philharmonic.
“It’s Simian wood,” Markus says to her, holding the violin by the neck as he turns it around. “It’s rare, but hardy, and comes from the Simian tree in the Deadlands, which takes over five hundred years to grow to maturity–”
“Blake, don’t you dare,” Marianna rasps, and I look at her, slightly surprised.
“What do you mean?”
“You brought me here to buy me a new violin? Mine is perfectly fine. I take good care of it!”
“You’ve been playing the same violin since you were Skye’s age.” I take the violin from Markus, inspect it like I know anything about violins, then hand it to her.
She hesitates before gripping the neck, her fingers curling over the strings, but the second her skin meets the warm, shimmering wood… she folds with a dramatic sigh and a smile that could light up the darkest night.
“We have practice rooms in the back if you want to try it out. Otherwise, play here, for me.” Markus grins, chuckling. “It’s not every day the first chair of the philharmonic comes to my old shop.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t afford this.”
“I know,” I cut in before Markus can give away that secret that’s been in play before Marianna and I even began to discuss getting back together. “That’s why I bought it.”
“Blake!”
“Give it a go.” I encourage her, nodding at the instrument. Again, she hesitates, then slowly perches her chin on the chin rest and lifts the bow from the case–the same dark, impeccable wood–rare, just like her.
Markus and I step back as she begins to play something smooth and slow, testing each string, moving through a random melody like she can taste each stroke and vibration. After a few pulls of her bow, she relaxes, her eyelids fluttering before they close, and the melody drops to a deep, dramatic whine that has every head in the otherwise quiet shop turning to look in our direction.
Marianna pulls her bow across the strings like a long, slow exhale. The voices in my head quiet, honed on her and the sound she can create without a single thought–like this is her power. Her gift. Music–the music that settles me, turning me into a normal man and not some demon from the worst nightmares.
I’m unaware that she’s stopped playing. I’m just looking at her, drinking her in, scrubbing my mind of who she used to be and replacing those fractured, painful memories of who she is now–the woman I love, the woman I’ve loved practically my entire life.
Markus, now a very rich man, sees us out of the shop with promises of attending the opening night of the symphony this fall. The remnants of the mating festival still glisten on the cobblestone streets in the form of confetti that’s yet to float down the storm drains, but it’s a clear, bright, hot day as we walk side by side through the narrow streets, just the two of us.
“We wouldn’t have ever been able to be out like this in Crescent Falls, huh?”
I glance at her, realizing I’ve been stuck in my head for the last ten minutes or so while we walk in no set direction. “Not without an entourage of security wolves and a sea of paparazzi following our every move, no.”
“Is that why you abdicated?”
I take the case from her and replace it with my hand, knitting our fingers together while we walk past the castle and into the quiet, sprawling neighborhoods that hug the city center. “Partly. I never felt like it was a good fit to begin with.”
“Maeve has mentioned on several occasions that you’re a fantastic delegator.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean I’d make a good king,” I reply, guiding her down a treelined street directly behind the castle where the forest begins, with only a few homes–large ones–rising above the tree line.
She glances at the violin case. “Blake, how likely is it that there will even be a symphony season this year?”
The road turns from pavement to rough gravel, narrowing into something closer to a trail than what will one day be a driveway. “I’d like to think it will happen.”
“But what do you really believe?”
The trees cast shade over the rough path. The heat isn’t nearly as intense here, which is a welcome relief. Marianna’s mint colored sundress swishes around her thighs as she absently follows me down the trail, never once questioning where I’m taking her. “I’ll know more about the situation when I arrive in Veiled Valley.”
“Then Eastonia is going to war?”
I suck in a breath and let it out slowly, closing my eyes for a moment as the sun breaks through the trees again, revealing a wide bluff of what used to be woodlands but has been cleared, revealing several acres’ worth of leveled dirt. Beyond, a sweeping view of Moonrise’s natural, untouched beauty spreads as far as the eye can see–shallow, rolling mountains and green valleys. “Maeve will do everything in her power to prevent that once we know that Hannibal and his kind won’t be causing us any more issues.” I think of Logan and Kieran, my stomach pinching. There’s something there my family hasn’t discussed–their connection to Hannibal and Emberfyll’s role in all of this.
Marianna huffs a breath, then realizes we’ve stopped walking. “Where are we?”
“Home. At least, eventually.”
She blinks, looking out over the view and… not much else.
“I’m going to build a house here when this is all said and done.”
“Do you want me to go to Veiled Valley with you?”
“Yes,” I answer without a shred of hesitation, “but it’s not… it’s for work. I’d rather you stayed here with Maeve, where I know you’re safe.”
“How bad are things really, Blake? Do you–can you see what’s going to happen?”
“I haven’t looked in a while.”
“Should you look?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? The one thing I’ve been avoiding my entire life? Afraid of what I’ll see?
“Do you think Skye will like living here?” I ask, unable to answer her question. I can feel her looking up at me. I can’t bring myself to look down and see the disappointment and frustration in those eyes I love and see in my dreams.
“She’ll love it.”