Marianna
Morning sunlight still plays over the garden at the townhouse when my mom walks out onto the back porch with a mug of coffee in each hand. She passes one down to my perch on the steps, squinting into the sun, where Skye is lost in the glare. She’s playing with her rocks again–the rocks she left behind when we abandoned this house, and our lives changed forever.
I couldn’t sleep last night. Blake has his meeting in Veiled Valley today, apparently, but he told me he’d be back tonight–hopefully.
I sip my coffee, watching Skye carefully inspect each little pebble before dropping them into a to-go container Mom’s letting her keep to carry her treasures back to the castle.
“How was your first night of freedom?” I tease, and she smiles.
“Quiet. I languished on the couch and watched all the shows you think are boring. I ate chips and drank wine until I went to bed.”
“Mmm hmm…” I smile at her, noticing the color in her cheeks. “Were we really all that bad to live with?”
“No, of course not, but I realized I haven’t been alone since I met your father all those years ago. I forgot her.”
“Who?”
“Leona. I’ve been Mom, or someone’s mate and wife, practically my entire life. It’ll be quite the adventure getting to know myself again.”
“Do you think that adventure can start tomorrow?”
She arches a brow. “What do you need?”
“Can you hangout with Skye for a few hours? I got an email from the director at the symphony. I have a meeting today with the conductor and what sounds like the entire board. I assume it’s to go over the music for this season.”
“This early? You have weeks until the season starts.”
The knot of dread in my stomach that’s been there since I woke up this morning tightens. “I’ll find out.”
“I’ll watch her. Don’t worry, okay? Everything will be fine.”
Later, I can’t help but think she’s wrong as I walk through the city, my fingers curled around the handle of my violin case. People huddle in cafes, lost in tense conversation. Warriors stalk the streets, and everyone gives them a wide berth. Moonrise has lost its undercurrent of magic and light over the past few weeks.
Do the people know how precarious things are, or can they just sense it?
The performance center is a massive, ancient opera house situated toward the edge of the city. It overlooks the lake, which sparkles in the morning sunlight. I have an hour to kill, so I walk along the bike trail that weaves along the shore, then up to the wide arena of alabaster, where a training session is taking place below. The base of the arena is too far down to see, but I can hear the sparring–the clash of weapons, the snarling of those in their wolf forms.
I wade through a group of locals sitting on the benches along the curved wall of the arena while they sip coffee, and I climb the wide stairs to the performing arts center, which rises low and wide, casting a long, cool shadow over my body that’s a welcome relief from the heat.
“Hey, you’re Marianna, right?”
I turn to the deep female voice calling up to me. Lexa jogs up the steps with a dancer’s grace, her rich brown hair curled tightly around her face and falling loose in a glorious mane down her back. She’s not dressed in leather armor like the last time I saw her. Jean shorts and a burnt orange tank top make her look younger, less hardened, and she smiles when she reaches my side.
“Hey,” I reply, giving her a wobbly, slightly shy smile in return. She’s young–maybe twenty? For some reason, I can’t sense a wolf in her yet, but it’s obvious she’s powerful… and tall. Taller than Maeve by at least an inch.
“I haven’t had a chance to come back to the castle to formally introduce myself or anything, but I’m Blake’s cousin. I wasn’t sure if you knew. I doubt he said anything.” We reach the top of the stairs, locked in the shadow of the arts center. “My dad is his dad’s twin brother–the younger twin.”
“Blake did tell me about you,” I chuckle. “You’re… from the Deadlands?”
“Yeah,” she breathes, then turns her head back to the arena. “I’m actually going back in a few days. I’ve been here since last fall.”
“Why?”
“Maeve brought me here to train her warriors and guards.” She shrugs, looking back down at me with a smile. “But I have shit to do back home. I’ve already missed the spring planting.”
“Lexa!” A young man at the base of the stairs calls her name, waving, his dark blond hair catching the sunshine.
She winces, grits her teeth, and turns her back to him. But he calls out her name again, and I notice a shudder rolling through her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” she rushes out, but now the man is walking up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time. “I just–ugh, okay, that’s Captain Austin, and he’s–I’m technically skipping–”
“Lexa, for fuck’s sake,” Austin pants, lunging up the final steps. He’s handsome, clean cut, but scarred along his jaw. His soft green eyes inspect Lexa’s scowl before he turns to me with a tight nod, gruffly introducing himself. “Captain Austin of the Royal Commander’s Ghost Reserves,” he says and… bows. Not deeply, to his credit, but still. It confuses me greatly.
“Uh–I’m–”
“Marianna Abbot–he knows,” Lexa cuts in with a hint of annoyance.
“Why–why did you bow?” I ask.
Now Austin’s the one looking confused. “You’re Prince Blake’s mate.”
Well, word travels fast.
“Is it… in the news?”
“No, no,” Lexa replies quickly, but her eyes slide to Austin with a glare so intense I feel the temperature in the space between us heat by several degrees. “Blake has managed to keep it quiet.” Lexa throws another glare at Austin, and for a moment, I swear I see his mouth tick into a secret smirk, and his eyes… well, it’s painfully obvious Austin, whoever he is, has feelings for Lexa.
And she’s either oblivious or entirely uninterested.
Or shy.
Maybe a bit of all three.
“We’re in your way,” she says. “I’m sure I’ll see you at the castle tonight, though. Maeve’s hosting a dinner for us there before my regiment heads back to Silverhide.” She glances at Austin, who is still looking at her like she hangs the stars for him every night. “Just us. Not your regiment of fucking idiots.”
My lips pop open in a perfect O. Austin just smiles at her as she whirls and continues on her way.
He follows like a lost puppy.
I watch them go, making a mental note to bring this up to Blake, not that he’ll give me any juicy insight into Lexa and her strange connection to the captain, but still, the conversation would be a welcome break from war, strife, and hardship.
I walk into the performing arts center, weaving through employee only hallways and stairwells until I reach the practice rooms in the basement.
I’ve been here a few times since moving–mostly to sign paperwork or when meeting the directors and the conductor–my boss. But the practice room listed in the email is empty when I arrive. I look around, resting my case on the cheap plastic table, and just when I’m starting to sit, the door opens, revealing a frantic young woman I know as one of the many secretaries who work here, keeping the gears turning for the directors.
“The meeting was canceled and rescheduled for Thursday,” she breathes. “Just now.”
“Oh–”
“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing!”
“It’s really all right,” I reply, wondering why she’s so shaken. My lips part to ask if everything is okay, but she slips away, leaving the door cracked.
I stand in the quiet solitude of the practice room, alone, for what feels like several minutes before reaching for my violin case. I’m not sure why, but it feels like a fine time to just… play. I’m alone. It’s quiet. I don’t have to worry about disturbing anyone at the castle even though Blake told me it was fine… Still, this is what I used to do. I’d drop Skye off at school and close myself into a room just like this something–snug, sound proof. I’d play every song I knew and ones I made up until my fingers were sore, and my neck felt like lead.
The new violin feels like a foreign entity on my arm, anyway. I should get used to it, find a new rhythm against its weight, so I do.
Music fills the practice room. I close my eyes, relaxing my body until every muscle loosens, and I begin to sway, to move with each note. I imagine Skye’s laugh and create a song that sounds like it–soft, giggly, and playful. I think of Blake and his calculated expression–hard, hollow–and the secret smiles that play behind his eyes–soft and curious. I weave them into the music. At this point, I don’t even hear it, but I can feel it, and it feels… it feels good. Like I’m finally myself again after everything that happened this summer, and before.
A ripple of energy coasts through the room, but I keep playing. Blake’s footsteps are silent, but I can feel him here, the threads that bind our hearts tugging tight as he slowly, silently, closes the door behind him and leans his weight against it. I keep playing, turning a few scratchy, even notes into a melody, then a sonnet, then a full-blown symphony. I play until I’m sure my fingers will bleed.
Minutes pass, I’m sure. Maybe hours. I wouldn’t know. I lose myself to it completely.
I pull the string across the neck one last time–slowly, softly, a quiet end–before turning to my mate.
Blake’s sitting on the ground with his back to the door, wearing a thick black cloak despite the summer heat. He’s leaning his head against the door, his face tilted to the ceiling, and his eyes are shut, his face… relaxed, but shadowed by an emotion I can only describe as pained.
I lower my violin, resting it on the table, and move in his direction. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t open his eyes as I slide down the wall beside him. But his fingers curl around mine when I weave our hands together. He leans his head against mine when I rest my cheek on his shoulder and breathe in his scent.
“How’d it go?”
“Horrible,” he says in a rasp, like he hasn’t used his voice in a very long time.
“Really?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not sure how to describe it.”
“You could try?”
A small, unenthusiastic laugh is his reply. “I wish it were that easy.”
“What happened, Blake?” I lean into him, smoothing my thumb over his fingers. “Please, tell me.”
“Fae are real. What Skye saw in her vision is real. Where they are is still a mystery. I… Had a dream I’m struggling to decipher. Maeve is mad that she had to spend the entire morning in Veiled Valley because of me. I left before the meeting, so I don’t know what my family is planning to do with me, but I assume…” He tapers off with a sigh. “Marianna?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember that night you nearly convinced me to steal a ferry and sail into the unknown with you?”
I smile, my eyes watering. “Of course.”
“What if we just… left?”
There’s something in his tone that gives me pause. It’s not a sound I’ve heard before. It’s… shattered. Absolutely, utterly broken. Like he’s given up.
“Blake?”
“I don’t think I can handle this,” he admits so softly I almost miss it. “What I’m being asked to do.”
“What are you being asked to do?”
He grits his teeth. I… I hate this. Something’s wrong, I can tell. I can feel it in our bond.
“I may be going away for a while. I don’t know how long or when I’ll have to go, but… I need Skye’s help with something. I need her powers.”
I straighten, and he turns his head to look me in the eyes. He appears… battered beyond belief. Exhausted. Worn thin.
“I need her to… look for Hannibal. I need her to find him, because I can’t.”