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HOUSE OF LIGHT AND ETHER

GILDED CITY BOOK THREE

LEIA STONE
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
To anyone who has ever suffered from depression or hopelessness. May the Light reach you and lead you out of the
darkness.
 ONE

I awoke in darkness from a nightmare where I was swimming in a pool of blood as the Quorum laughed from above, telling me
my soul would end up in the Bottomless Pit.
My heart hammered against my chest as I sat up and peered around to get my bearings. Silver shafts of moonlight splintered
through the opening of a cave of sorts, and my breathing slowed. I peered out the entrance, at the silhouette of Yanric perched
atop Ranger—the horse Queen Solana had given me—just outside. A small snoring sound came from beside me, and I craned
my neck at the sleeping form next to me.
Master Clarke.
My…father.
The memory of everything came rushing back to me then and I ran shaky fingers through my hair. I had gone dark, lit Blair’s
hair on fire, and then almost burned down the forest. Then Master Clarke had touched my skin until I passed out. Why was he
still here? I should leave—I should get on my horse and just leave him. He didn’t need to stay with me while I went insane.
‘Nightmare?’ Yanric asked.
I peered at my bird and nodded. My skin still burned a little from Master Clarke holding me for so long. I would kill for a
cool bath right about now.
‘We should leave him. He’ll only get hurt,’ I told Yan.
I was mad at Master Clarke for not telling me that he was my real father, but I didn’t want him to get injured. “Real father”
felt wrong to think. There was no realer father than the one who raised me, but I didn’t have a word for what Master Clarke
was. Extra dad? Absent father who left me wailing into the night at the gates of Isariah?
My thoughts went to Ariyon, Eden, my father…but I pushed them aside. Thinking of the past wasn’t going to help anything.
They were safe and that’s all that mattered. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to care about them anymore. I had to figure out
what Yan and I were going to do.
‘Where do we go?’ Yanric asked, shaking himself a little as if to wake himself up.
I sighed. I didn’t want to go to Marissa. I really didn’t. But I feared she was the only one who would understand what I was
going through. Her letter did say she could help me with my power. Even if her intent was to teach me how to grow it, she
might also know how to control it.
‘Lies,’ a strange male voice said in my mind, and I whimpered. Hearing the voices more often meant I was getting worse.
Master Clarke stirred beside me, and I froze, not wanting to wake him. I didn’t want to argue with him or risk hurting him if
my temper rose. I just wanted to be alone.
‘We’ll go to Marissa. Follow the map,’ I told Yanric.
He nodded. ‘Maybe while we are there, we can get some intel and stop the war before it even starts. Maybe that’s how
you save everyone.’
The prophesied Nightling war was something I hadn’t thought a lot about. But Yanric was right. If I went into their inner
sanctum, maybe I could learn to control my power and then go back to the Gilded City and tell Solana everything I knew about
their camp.
‘Maybe we attack them first. Wipe them out before they ever come for us,’ I told Yan as I moved to slowly stand. If I went
dark but took Marissa and all of the Nightlings down first, then it would be worth it.
A hand snaked out and gripped my cloth-covered wrist, clamping down hard. I startled, looking down and finding Master
Clarke’s determined gaze.
“Give me a chance to help you. If I fail, you can run off to the Barren Mountains and go dark in a cave alone if that’s what
you please.” His voice was thick and gravelly with sleep, but his words shook me. The Barren Mountains. He thought that’s
where I would go? People still lived there, though sparsely. No, I would not go anywhere I could bring harm to a single soul.
 “You can’t help me. You’ll only get hurt,” I told him.
He released my wrist and sat up. “I’m okay with that, Fallon.” He held my gaze and my throat tightened. What was he
saying?
“You’re okay with me burning you alive if you piss me off?” I snapped.
He nodded once. “If it means there is a chance to save you, I am.”
Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back. It was weird to cry yet feel nothing inside.
In that moment, his blind loyalty and care for my safety reminded me of my father—my real father, a title I’d never give to
him. He was Master Clarke, a man who apparently was seduced into lying with Marissa one night, and I was a byproduct of
that.
“Let’s start from the beginning.” He pulled out a thick, well-worn notebook and another tome beside it, one I recognized. It
was the book Hayes had found in the library, the one that spoke of someone from the House of Ash using mind control.
“You’re hearing voices?” he asked.
My chest felt tight, my heart racing. What did he think he could do? Read his way out of my problem?
Yanric flew from Ranger’s back and landed on my shoulder. ‘He knows the risks and he’s willing to help. It can’t hurt.
Marissa will be our last resort.’
I peered at Clarke again and nodded once.
Clarke looked at Yanric. “You? Mysterious voices?”
My bird nodded once.
‘You hear the same ones as I do?’ I asked him.
He was quiet a moment. ‘And more,’ he shared.
I frowned. Master Clarke began to take notes in his book and then rifled through some pages.
“It says here that the familiar actually takes the brunt of the symptoms at first. So Yanric will be feeling the most agitated,
hearing things, having nightmares, loss of power control.”
I looked at my familiar with an open mouth. ‘Yan, is that true?’
He simply nodded once again, and I reached up and pulled him down to my chest, clutching him against me. The normally
warm, fuzzy feelings I had for him felt like they were hidden under a thick blanket of desperation, and it was so frustrating, I
wanted to scream.
“I can’t chase away the sadness,” I told Master Clarke, a tear falling down my cheek. “I can’t stop crying either. I have
nightmares. I feel numb at times, and when I get angry…” I trailed off, and Master Clarke took more notes, nodding as if this all
made sense.
“You can’t control it,” he finished for me.
I sighed, releasing Yan, and he flew from my arms into the forest.
‘Going hunting,’ he said, but I felt that he too was having trouble feeling normal, feeling happiness or love.
Master Clarke tapped the books. “It says here you carry the magic of your ancestors. For example, the power to switch, like
you did with Ariyon, was given to you by Amethyst Bane.”
“I know,” I told him, unable to keep my tone from coming out sharp.
“I think the voices you hear are not psychosis. I think they are remnants of your ancestors as their magic builds up inside of
you.”
Relief rushed through me at that. I mean, it didn’t make it any better. I was still hearing voices—those of disembodied
spirits if he was right—but it meant I wasn’t completely losing my mind.
“So what does that mean? Can we stop them?”
Clarke chewed at his lip. “I’m not sure about that yet. Now that I know about the true history of the House of Ash and
Shadow, I wonder some things. Like what if the experimentation on your people was to twist their magic to become more and
more powerful with each generation?”
A stone sank in my gut. “Then I will be the most powerful Bane to ever live?”
He nodded. “And at the most risk for going dark.”
His words only made me feel worse. Now I just worried that I’d go even darker than Marissa and light the whole world on
fire.
I found my thoughts going to sad places, pulling on old wounds in my heart like the loose threads of a sweater. It wouldn’t
stop until the whole thing unraveled on me.
“Did you ever try to visit me?” I asked, on the verge of losing my nerve. “When I was a child?”
Master Clarke stiffened beside me. He set his book down and nodded. “I had to stay away completely for the first five
years. I was worried that Marissa herself would be looking for you. I knew there was a possibility she would become a
Nightling and be reborn. I just prayed it would never happen. I thank the Light every day that Queen Solana never used her
power of truth over me.”
I stayed quiet, unable to imagine having a child out in the world and not going to see them or even meet them once.
 “Solana knew Marissa had you before she died. She was actively looking for a child with dark powers and a curse that
caused her pain when touched.” He shook his head as if he was lost in the memory. “But after about five years, things had died
down. Solana lost interest in her search for you. I thought then that you might not be getting enough to eat in Isariah. They are
known for being a poorer people. I also worried you might be getting bullied or mistreated for your curse, so I took leave and
went to check on you.”
I held my breath. I was bullied for my curse. I did go hungry sometimes. But somehow it was all okay because I was also
very loved by my father; my best friend back home, Sorrel; and my old boss at the tavern, Hipsie. Isariah had treated me well
enough. I had no complaints there.
Master Clarke gave me a sidelong glance then. “I want to be fully honest here with you, Fallon. I intended to take you that
day, to raise you myself in the mountains above Moonsreach.”
I gasped. Take me from my father? Sorrel? My home? Funnily enough, Moonsreach was where my father had suggested us
running away to if I ever went dark.
Master Clarke ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I packed a bag for the both of us, left word with Solana that I was going
on leave to see a sick cousin and planned to never come back to The Gilded City again.”
I couldn’t speak. I was gobsmacked.
“What happened?”
“When I saw you,” he said, smiling in a way that made his whole face light up, “you looked just like Marissa. There was
some type of flower festival going on, and you’d just been given a bouquet of wild flowers from some nice woman.”
I nodded at the memory, finding it within me to smile a little as well. I remembered that festival. It was one of my earliest
memories. I was five, Hipsie had given me a bouquet, and I was so excited to show my dad.
“You wore little brown gloves, and you ran to a tall man, calling out ‘Daddy!’ I realized then that it was the man who’d
taken you in. I remember the way he beamed at you, the way he tenderly took the bouquet from your little gloved fingers and
smelled it, telling you they were the most beautiful flowers in all the realm, just like you.” Clarke’s voice caught. “It broke my
heart and repaired it all at once. I knew then that I couldn’t take you from him, from the nice woman who gave you the flowers,
from any of it. You were healthy and loved and thriving. I would only make your life worse.” He turned away from me in
shame. “So I left, knowing you were getting everything you needed.”
Grief welled up inside me at his confession, but it was quickly replaced with numbness. Everything he said was true, other
than me having all that I needed. “I would have liked to know you too. I needed you too,” I told him, and he reached out and
squeezed my hand hard, nodding.
“You have me now, and I will not rest until I have saved you from going dark, Fallon. I swear it on the Light.”
I simply nodded because, while I knew he felt what he spoke was true, that didn’t make it any more likely to actually
happen.

ONE MONTH later

“Now control it!” Master Clarke screamed. “Like we’ve practiced.”
Sweat beaded my brow as rage rushed through me so hot that I wanted to decimate every tree within the vicinity. “I can’t!”
I bellowed, the power overtaking me, causing shadows to crawl along the forest floor and creep toward the charred
mountainside where I practiced every day. Fire erupted from my palms, and Master Clarke leapt into my field of vision.
“You are stronger than this, Fallon. Think of it like a faucet, and just turn it off!” he growled, and held up one of his stupid
books. He’d been getting a shorter temper lately, and I heard him whimpering in the night like he was having nightmares. I don’t
think he’d ever admit it, but I feared that being near me was causing him to go dark as well, like it had in the old days before
Marissa went dark, back when the original House of Ash and Shadow was created and those fae who were too close to them
went dark as well.
Yanric let out a caw as he took to the skies, the tips of his wings smoking. He was losing control of his form more and more
lately. We were all unraveling.
Tears leaked from my eyes as I looked at the book Master Clarke was holding up. “No amount of studying can fix me!” I
roared, and the book burst into flames in his very hands. He yelped, hissing as he dropped the book to the floor, and stamped it
out with his feet.
I gasped, my powers shutting off completely as Master Clarke clutched his hands to his chest. The smell of burnt flesh
lingered in the air.
“No,” I breathed, stumbling backward.
He looked at me pleadingly. “Fallon, I’m fine. It’s just a little burn, nothing I haven’t done while cooking.” But he was
lying. I could see in his face that he was in pain.
 “Let me see,” I begged. Already, though, my guilt was being chased away by numbness.
“I’m fine. I’ll go wrap them and⁠—”
“Let me see!” I yelled, and the bush to the right of him exploded with purple flames.
He swallowed hard, then produced his palms for me to inspect. A garbled cry left my lips when I gazed upon the bubbled,
red skin.
“You need a healer. I…I need to go. You’re not safe with⁠—”
“Fallon.” Master Clarke stepped in my way as I moved to walk to the abandoned two-bedroom cabin we’d shared over the
past month.
“This was expected. I knew the risks. I’m okay. I have a tincture for the pain and to keep away infection. I’ll be fine. We
need to keep working. You’ve made so much progress,” he pleaded.
I laughed then, as Yanric dove down and landed on my shoulder. “Progress? I only get four hours of sleep a night because
of the nightmares. The voices are with me daily now. And my powers are more out of control than ever!”
But at his mention of tincture, my mind drifted back to The Gilded City, to Avis. She was the mother to us all. I wondered
then how the apothecary was doing on the East Side, if her plan to open an undercover clinic there was in motion. Were
residents coming in for their “ice cream” and leaving healed? Was Hayes helping out? Was Ariyon?
At the thought of my first and only love, my heart ripped into a thousand pieces. How could I have just left him like that?
How could I not even say goodbye to him?
But then I recalled the look on his face after I’d hurt Blair.
He was scared of me, and rightfully so. Which was why I had turned away every letter he tried to send through a raven to
Master Clarke and made Clarke promise not to tell Ariyon or anyone from The Gilded City where we were.
“Fallon, deep breaths.” Master Clarke’s panicked voice brought me back to myself.
Oh Light! We were standing inside a funnel of black shadows, a ring of purple fire dancing at the edge of the treeless
meadow we stood in.
“Stay with me. Stay in control,” Clarke coached.
‘I miss them too,’ Yanric said, as a tear rolled down my cheek and I angrily swiped it away.
I took in a deep breath and continued doing so slowly until the shadow funnel collapsed and the fire was nothing more than
a ring of smoke.
Clarke looked relieved. Proud. Smiling. “See? Together we can control this.”
I forced myself to return his smile, but then I looked at Yanric. I didn’t even need to say the words. He already knew.
‘We leave tonight,’ he said.
I just nodded once. I wasn’t going to let Master Clarke get hurt again. It was kind of him to help me with my magic all these
weeks. But today had proved that thirty days of countless hours of training had done nothing but make me stronger and less in
control. I feared we’d made it worse. The power inside of me had grown so big, it felt like I was suffocating. It was competing
for room inside of me, eating up the parts of me that used to be light and bright and full of life.
I was growing dead inside—and I couldn’t even cry about it anymore.
 TWO

I had no regrets as I slipped out of the cabin, into the cool night air with my pack on and Yanric perched on my shoulder. I had
enough decency still left in me to know that I cared for Master Clarke and would never forgive myself if I seriously injured
him. He had tried his best. I’d given him a month. It hadn’t worked. I walked to the meadow where Ranger was tied up and
pulled his reins from the tree stump.
“Ready for an adventure?” I stroked his neck, and he chuffed.
Seeing Ranger made me think of Ariyon again. Of Solana. My father. Eden. Everyone. I missed them all so much, it caused
my chest to feel like it was splitting open, but this was for the best. Master Clarke often sent word via raven to The Gilded City
to assure the queen we were both alive and well and that my powers were under control. He said that if he didn’t, she would
send an army after me. But he never told her where we were, and he spelled the ravens with some tincture so they couldn’t be
followed or traced back to us.
I pulled out the map that Marissa had sent me with her note and unfolded it. Was this crazy? Going into the belly of the
beast?
What if she just stole my blood for the locket around Solana’s throat and then killed me?
‘She can’t kill you. She needs an heir in order to rule,’ Yanric reminded me.
That was true. I could kill her, just blast her with as much magic as possible the first time I saw her…but I knew I
wouldn’t. If I was being honest, there was a very small part of me that wanted to hear her side of things, that hoped she could
help me control my power or that I might be able to talk her out of her planned Nightling attack that Emmeric, the Ealdor Fae,
had spoken of—the event that would take my life.
I knew Marissa was hungry for power. She had killed a lot of people in her attack on the school and murdered Ariyon’s
parents in the most brutal way, and yet, I couldn’t help but understand a tiny bit what it was like to lose control. I hadn’t meant
to light Blair’s hair on fire or burn Master Clarke’s hands. What if she hadn’t meant to kill all those students in the school
either?
Yanric cleared his throat, and I glanced at my bird. ‘I don’t want Marissa to be a psycho mass murderer either, but let’s
not forget she used mind control to force Master Hart to keep the doors closed so that everyone would burn.’
Shame rushed through me at his words. He was right. I was making excuses for her, trying to see her in a better light, to
rationalize why I was going to her now.
‘Say the word, and I’ll head for the mountains. Tell me going to see Marissa is crazy,’ I told Yanric.
‘You’re crazy,’ a female voice cackled in my head, and I bit down on my lips in desperation.
Yanric sighed, snuggling into my neck and burrowing his head there. ‘I think she’s the only one in the realm that might be
able to help slow down whatever is happening to us. If she tries to hurt you, I’ll take both of her eyes.’
I chuckled. ‘I love you, little murder bird.’
‘And I, you. Though I do miss what it feels like to be happy,’ he said, and it was like a punch to the gut. Happiness, joy,
deep belly laughter, Eden, Ariyon, Ayden. All those things that used to make me smile, oh, how I missed them too. I felt like I
wasn’t even that person anymore, like that Fallon had died and this new Fallon replaced her, and I just had to come to terms
with it.
Taking in a deep breath, I angled Ranger in the direction Marissa had indicated was Nightling City on the map.
Light help us all.
I WANTED to stop and rest but feared Clarke would come after me the moment he woke in the early morning hours. I didn’t
want to give him time to catch up with me. I also didn’t want to lead him to danger. Marissa had loved him once, but I didn’t
think she did anymore. She might kill him on the spot for all I knew.
Clarke had found the map recently. About a week ago, he had been cleaning up the cabin. My bag had gotten wet, so I’d
hung everything out to dry, and he’d found it. He opened it, looked at it, looked at me, and closed it again.
Then, he just said three words. “Don’t go there.”
Like he knew what it was. Like he’d been there.
Maybe he had. Maybe that’s where he stole me from her when I was a baby.
But if that were the case, why not tell Queen Solana? Maybe if she amassed a big enough army, she could wipe out the
entire village or whatever it was in one fell swoop, and we could end this. But I knew that wouldn’t work. The only thing that
killed Nightlings in their shadow form was the Undying Fire. And I was the only one who had that.
I guess the bigger question was why hadn’t I told Queen Solana? I’d had this map for over a month now. I knew Master
Clarke was sending word via raven to her. I could have sent the map…
It was like there was a war going on inside of me. One side wanted Marissa to be reasonable, to be able to be convinced
that her quest for power was fruitless. The other side just wanted her dead.
How could I forget she had driven an axe into the heart of the man I love?
I growled in frustration, hating that I was unable to trust my decision-making anymore. Was this part of going mad?
A twig snapped beside me, causing me to spin in the direction just as Yanric flew from my shoulder to go check it out.
According to the map, we were close to her camp. Could these be scouts? Or just an animal? We’d been riding half the
night, and morning was due soon. My limbs were heavy with the need for sleep.
‘Nightling incoming!’ Yanric announced, and I pulled the Undying Fire into my palms with ease.
Two balls of purple flames rested in the center of my palms, as a cloud of shadows solidified before me into a female fae.
The woman had long, blond hair and a tattoo of a spider on her neck. She looked at the purple fireballs in my palms and
grinned. “You can put those away. Marissa will be happy to see you.”
Then she poofed back into a stream of black shadows and began to float along the path in front of Ranger.
‘I think she wants us to follow her,’ Yanric said as he landed on my shoulder.
My heart hammered in my chest as I wrestled with what I was doing. Was I seriously going to see Marissa Bane willingly?
‘Talk me out of this, Yan. Give me all the reasons we shouldn’t do this,’ I said to my familiar.
He looked at me with his beady, little black eyes and blinked rapidly. ‘We tried everything. We gave Master Clarke a
month. I don’t know what else we could do on our own. We’ve only become stronger…’
He wasn’t going to talk me out of it—he was talking me into it. And he was right.
But there was that nagging feeling deep inside of me that told me neither of us was thinking clearly. That this was a bad
idea and I was too depressed and numb to know it.
The shadowy figure stopped in front of me as if waiting for me to follow. I swallowed hard and grasped Ranger’s reins. I
rode for a short while, letting a Nightling lead me into the fortified gates of a run-down city.
My gaze flicked left and right as we walked through the city. Or what was once a city. It looked like it hadn’t been taken
care of in at least a century. Overgrown vines crept up the sides of the buildings—if you could call them buildings. The top
halves were crumbling and open to the sky above. Ranger whinnied, but I forced him to keep going with a light squeeze of my
heels.
“It’s okay, boy,” I told him.
The road was broken and uneven as the shadowy Nightling in front of us led us deeper inside.
‘People live here?’ I asked Yanric. It wasn’t what I had expected. I didn’t know what I had expected really, but it wasn’t
this.
‘I think they spend most of their time in shadow form. They probably don’t care where they live,’ Yanric mused.
A horrified thought struck me then. He was right. Ariyon had said that while he was stuck in the Realm of Rebirth,
Nightlings’ bodies were present there when they were present in shadow form here, and that included Marissa’s. If they only
spent ten percent of their time here, it didn’t matter what this place looked like.
I swallowed hard as a dozen Nightling soldiers came into view and the shadowy figure in front of me materialized again.
I spotted a large pristine-looking meeting hall behind them, which seemed odd considering the abandoned buildings
surrounding it. The meeting hall was made of a cream-colored stone, with large steps leading to open double doors where
lights were flickering inside.
“Marissa is excited you have finally come.” A male Nightling approached me and grasped Ranger’s reins. “I’ll take him to
the barn and make sure he’s fed.” He was tall, with sharply pointed ears and black pits for eyes.
Ranger whined deep in his throat, and I hated that I was forcing him to go against his instincts and be here.
What am I doing?
“You’ll need to leave behind any weapons,” a redheaded woman said.
 There was a flicker of motion to my right, and then Marissa materialized beside me. “She is a weapon, Sadine,” Marissa
told the redhead and looked up at me with a smile, her snake familiar tightening around her arm. “Come inside. We have much
to discuss.”
Fear bloomed in my stomach as regret washed over me. Should I be here? But Marissa was right. I was a weapon, and if
my dear old “mother” tried anything, I would show her just how much my powers had grown.
Yanric twitched a little on my shoulder. ‘Tell her you will only talk to her alone. Get these goons to step back. This looks
like an ambush.’
Paranoia. I didn’t blame him. I was feeling it too.
“I’ll only speak to you alone. Get your…people to step back,” I told Marissa.
She nodded once and the group dispersed, scattering like roaches.
‘There are hundreds more in the city,’ a woman cackled in my mind.
I groaned and knocked the side of my head with my fist. “Stop it!” I screamed.
“The voices?” Marissa asked, cool and calm, as if speaking about the weather.
I hated her, I really did. She had killed Ariyon, whom I’d only saved through the accidental swapping of powers with him,
and she’d tried to kill Solana. She was evil…but she was also looking at me like she knew exactly what I was going through,
and that brought me a weird comfort.
“The more you fight them, the louder they’ll get,” she advised.
Yanric squawked loudly, as if he didn’t like the sound of that.
I scoffed. “You expect me to have a conversation with them or something?”
She raised one eyebrow at me, clearly unimpressed with my tone. “Well, they are your ancestors, simply trying to advise
you.”
I gasped, peering at her in shock. Clarke was right.
Marissa pursed her lips. “Did they make you feel like you were crazy? Come, we have a lot to catch up on.”
I said nothing, only followed her in silence as the dark feelings within me grew. She dematerialized into her shadow form,
and I followed her as we walked to the big meeting building.
The moment her shadow entered, she solidified back into her fae form and walked across the room. My gaze darted around,
searching for threats, but I could see that we were alone. The giant space was empty, with a few mattresses on the floor, a table
with folding chairs, and a fireplace.
I frowned. “You live here?”
She laughed. “Gross. No way! This is our topside base of operations. I have a beautiful estate in the Realm of Rebirth.”
I looked at Yan.
‘Ariyon said Nightlings barely spend any time here, but I didn’t think that meant they lived elsewhere,’ my familiar said.
‘An estate in the Realm of Rebirth?’ I asked him. That just sounded weird—she lived with a bunch of dead people. But I
appreciated that she was being forthcoming.
She sat at one of the chairs and crossed her legs, indicating with a hand that I do the same. I eyed the snake at her throat,
coiled like a necklace, and I couldn’t get what she did to Ariyon’s parents out of my head.
“You’ve done horrible things,” I said as I sat down, unable to just play along and pretend she and I were alike.
She shrugged. “To horrible people who think we deserve to die for the magic in our veins. They treat us like we are
possessed with evil.”
“Aren’t we?” I asked.
She scoffed, leaning forward. “That magic running through you is intuitive. It knows what needs to be done. There is
nothing else like it.”
My heart hammered in my chest at her words. Intuitive magic that just knew what needed to be done?
Blair’s hair. It wasn’t me but my magic instead?
“The school, lighting it on fire—you never meant to do that? The magic did?” I asked.
Marissa nodded. “Rightly so! They all wanted me dead. They all thought I was evil. A thing that their ancestors created.
Then they stole our throne!” she yelled.
So that’s how she justified killing over a hundred students? I decided she probably couldn’t see reason, so I just nodded,
not wanting to anger her.
“Can it be controlled?” I asked her. It was the entire reason I was here. If she said no, I was leaving.
“Why would you want to control it? If you control it, you dampen the power, which, I am guessing, is growing stronger
every day.” She looked greedy then, her black eyes glistening.
“Can it be controlled?” I pressed. “Or will it continue to grow? The nightmares, the voices, the numb feeling, depression.”
I rattled off my symptoms and there was a flicker of compassion that crossed her face, but only for a fraction of a second before
it was gone.
“There is a price to pay for being so blessed magically. It takes a toll.”
 “Marissa, I’m not here to get more powerful. Can you teach me to control it or not?” I stood, the chair scooting backward
and slamming to the floor as Yanric squawked.
The snake at her neck uncoiled, sliding down her arm as she glared up at me. “Yes. It can be controlled at a great detriment
to the magic itself.”
“I don’t care if I live the rest of my existence magicless. I want my old life back. I want everything else to stop.”
A creepy smile curled her lips. “I think we can arrange something, then. You look tired. Why don’t you get some sleep and
I’ll begin the process once you’ve rested.” She pointed to one of the mattresses on the floor with a blanket rolled off to the
side.
“What process?” I squinted my gaze.
She shook her head at me. “You know, you were the only thing I ever loved.”
Her admission caught me off guard.
“I think I loved Clarke, but it was clear he was just using me to make himself feel better. But you, you would be my mini-
me. You would know exactly what it felt like to be a Bane. A Bane with so much power, people feared you.”
“It sucks,” I told her.
She nodded once. “It does. But not for long.” She stood then as well. “Get some rest. I’ll be back later.”
She poofed into shadows and zoomed out the door.
‘I don’t like this. I think we should go.’ Yanric eyed the exits.
I was looking at the bed, my eyelids growing heavier by the minute. ‘She says she can help us, Yan.’
‘She didn’t really answer you when you asked how. Something doesn’t feel right with her,’ Yanric said.
What was he talking about? He was the one who agreed we should come here.
‘Well, yeah, she’s evil and hates everyone in The Gilded City, but she knew what the voices were. She knew the magic
was intuitive. She knows all about what we’ve been through because she went through it too.’
‘I’ll be back. I’m going to follow her.’ Yanric transformed into black shadows and left through the wall.
Did he seriously just leave me? Sketchy, paranoid bird.
I walked over to the mattress on the floor and sat. I waited a minute, then another. Yanric still wasn’t back, and my eyes
were beginning to drift shut. I was just going to lay back for a second. Yanric would wake me up when he returned, and if he
really pressed the issue, I could get Ranger and we’d go. We could think of something else. But I really felt like Marissa knew
what was going on with me and might be able to help me feel normal again.
The second I closed my eyes, I was sucked into a surprisingly beautiful dream. Ariyon was holding my gaze, stroking his
thumb across my bottom lip.
“Come home,” he whispered against my mouth.
 THREE

I awoke to a sharp pain on my wrist. As my eyelids flew open, hands clamped around my arms and legs, pinning me down.
Agony erupted along my spine as my curse ignited.
I was so groggy with sleep, it took me a second to realize what the fae was going on. I peered down at the source of the
sharp pain on my wrist and screamed when I saw Marissa drinking from it. Her lips were wrapped around my skin and the
coppery smell of blood filled the air as slurping noises reached my ears.
No.
I tried to yank my wrist from her, but I was immobilized. There was a presence in my mind, slithering around like a snake. I
wasn’t alone. It felt like a heavy blanket weighed me down.
‘Stay still,’ Marissa commanded me mentally.
Pure panic ripped through me when I realized she was controlling me like she had Master Hart. My free will being taken
from me was about the most terrifying thing I could think of. The pain of being held down, skin touching my skin, ripped
through my body like a fire.
“Yanric!” I screamed, pulling for my power only to find it dulled somehow.
“I can’t suppress her power much longer!” a female Nightling with long, brown hair shouted from somewhere next to me.
Suppress my power?!
The gulping noises coming from Marissa were making me nauseous, as I felt the lifeblood leaving me, dizziness in its
wake. I had thought up a hundred different scenarios of what Marissa would do to me. Feeding on my blood was never in any
of them. Feeling Marissa’s hold over me weaken, I took the opportunity to fight back, bucking wildly like a fish out of water as
I pulled for my power and my palms heated.
The pain, it was too much. At least four people were touching me with full-on contact and not letting go, and it made me
feel like I was burning alive. I screamed, but barely any sound came out. It was as if my body didn’t even have the energy to
shout.
“Get off of me,” I whimpered.
Panic fully consumed me then, and I gasped in a lungful of air. I focused on where my gaze naturally was and did what
Clarke had taught me, pulling black shadows from along the ceiling until they danced closer to me, dripping down the walls.
The brown-haired Nightling above me screamed and grabbed her head as if she were in pain. Something snapped then.
Whatever power she and Marissa held over me broke in that moment, and I exploded with magic. Purple fire shot from my
palms, scorching the side of Marissa’s face. She shrieked, leaping off of me with a blood-tinged grin. The other Nightlings
holding me let go, and I tried to sit up but found myself too weak and in too much pain. My body jerked with the aftershocks of
the curse as black dots danced at the edges of my vision.
No. You will not pass out right now, Fallon, I told myself, trying to fight the dizziness washing over me. I felt drunk,
wobbly, fuzzy.
The black shadows I’d conjured retreated, too weak to fully harness my power. I pulled for it again, fighting through the
pain as Marissa stood before me wearing a maniacal grin.
“Oh, Daughter, that was everything I had dreamed it would be and more.” She looked down at her hands as if seeing them
for the first time, rolling them over to study the veins on the top. I blinked rapidly, wondering if I was seeing things. Her
normally black eyes and general undead look were…gone. Her eyes were a rich emerald green now, her skin less pale, her
cheeks rosy and flushed.
“Did it work?” the brunette Nightling said as I convulsed in agony again.
Marissa took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “It did.” She grinned. “I am bound by my shadow form no more.
The prophesy was true. Her blood is the key to giving us our bodies back.”
 A garbled gasp ripped from my throat as I tried again to stand but was overcome with dizziness. What did this mean?
Marissa was bound by shadows no more? Like, her body was reborn? What did it mean?
She had taken too much from me—too much blood. My heart felt like it was beating between my ears and I couldn’t think
straight. Where was Yanric?
“I want to go next.” The brunette stepped closer to me, but Marissa threw out her hand and a rope of black shadow
wrapped around the girl’s waist, pinning her to the spot.
“Touch her, and I’ll throw you into the Bottomless Pit!” Marissa growled. “Stick with the plan. I will get on the throne and
then use the necklace Solana is currently wearing, as queen, to unbind the rest of you. If you drink too much, she will die, and
then where will we be?” She looked at the group of hungry Nightlings, and one by one they nodded.
Maybe it was the blood loss, but my brain was sluggish in processing everything she said. All I knew was that if one more
person drank from me, I was leaving this realm and standing before The Grim, because there was barely enough blood in my
body to keep me conscious.
Light help me. I managed to sit up and roll onto my knees, fighting the urge to pass out.
I should have known she’d trick me. I was so stupid for coming here. Had she hurt Yanric? Where was he?
Marissa’s eyes widened, then she grabbed her head suddenly before letting loose with a guttural wail of pain. A small
trickle of blood left her nose, and my head whipped toward the open doorway just in time to see Ariyon step inside with
Yanric on his shoulder.
I hadn’t thought my heart could possibly beat any faster, but it did at the sight of him. He wore the full battle armor of the
Queen’s Royal Army, and he was grinning. “Whatever you did, Marissa, I can feel your energy now, which means I can hurt
you,” he growled, sneering at her.
Marissa fell to her knees, more blood trickling from her nose as her face turned blue.
Holy Fae, he was tearing her apart from the inside out, and all I could do was watch in fascination. Then the room
exploded into chaos.
The Nightlings present poofed into shadow and headed for Ariyon, but Yanric met them head-on. My familiar transformed
into shadows and took on the streaks of black zipping through the air, crashing into them and mingling into angry balls.
A window to my right broke, and a streak of red hair burst into the room and began launching a volley of fireballs.
Eden.
I wanted to burst into sobs at the sight of my best friend, but everything was too hard. Thinking. Standing. Feeling.
‘They don’t love you for who you are. Only we know your true self,’ one of the voices inside my head said.
Another window broke, and then another, and suddenly the room was filled with nearly everyone I cared about. Ayden,
Master Clarke, Hayes.
Ariyon sidestepped the ball of shadows and stood before Marissa, who looked near death. Unimaginable amounts of blood
covered her shirt. Her lips and face were tinged blue with a lack of oxygen, and she clawed at her throat, desperately in search
of air as she looked up at Ariyon in shock.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Ariyon spoke down at her.
A wave of remnant pain shook me, and I had to grip the edges of the mattress to keep from passing out.
One of the shadows separated from the ball and formed into the brunette woman. A knife appeared in her hand, aimed for
Ariyon’s back, and I used every ounce of strength I possessed to scream.
“Ariyon, behind!”
He spun, catching the woman’s hand midair, and then my vision was blotted out with darkness. I thought I had fainted, but I
was still conscious—we’d been magically plunged into darkness.
I pulled for my power, but it was like trying to reach into mud. Everything was thick and sluggish in my body. Marissa had
nearly drained me when she’d fed from me, and it broke my heart. Somewhere deep down inside, I had still expected her to be
a decent person. A mother. This was the last time I’d ever underestimate her and the evil she was capable of.
The room flared with light as Eden and Ayden used their fire to illuminate the space, and I was both relieved and annoyed
to see that Marissa and her Nightlings were gone.
Ariyon strode across the space until he stood before me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. I was so ashamed. I had left him. I’d
left everyone. I had lit Blair on fire and yet they all still came to my rescue.
I suspected this was because of Yanric.
‘When I left last night to follow Marissa, I heard her plans. When I came back to wake you, they had put some kind of
sleep spell over you. I went for help right away,’ my familiar said from his place on Eden’s shoulder as she rubbed his neck
fondly. They had a special bond, and I couldn’t imagine it had been easy to be away from each other for a month.
“Fallon, look at me.” Ariyon reached up and grasped the bottom of my face, tilting my chin up to meet his steel-gray eyes.
His touch, so soft and safe, made the numbness inside of me flicker for the slightest moment. For a split second, I remembered
what joy felt like—and love.
And I wanted that part of myself back.
 My bottom lip shook as I met his gaze, preparing for him to chastise me for what I’d done. Or to tell me we would figure it
out together, knowing full well there was no cure for what ailed me. In a dark moment, I wondered if only dying would cure
this lonely, numb feeling inside of me. Maybe that was the only solution.
“Fallon Bane, when I said I loved you, I meant it,” Ariyon growled. “All of you. No matter what.” The tops of his hands
glowed as the markings swirled, and his healing entered my body, chasing away the dizziness, pain, and cloudy mind.
I reached up and grasped his hands, resting mine over his. “I’m not the Fallon you remember anymore,” I told him sadly.
“She’s dying.” Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes and trickled over his hands. “I can’t feel her anymore. I don’t know
who this new girl is, but I don’t recognize her.”
Eden swallowed a sob from across the room at my words, and Ayden swooped in to comfort her. I hadn’t meant to be so
dramatic, but I wanted them to know what I was dealing with. I needed them to know that I didn’t recognize myself inside
anymore. This dark magic had taken up so much room inside me, I was no longer me. I was it.
Ariyon frowned, nodding. “I know what needs to be done, and I don’t want you to argue with me about it,” he commanded.
I wanted to pull away from him, to not allow him to heal me, which would take time off of his life. The world was a better
place with Ariyon in it, and I wanted the world to have him for as long as possible. But as he held me, I felt some of the storm
clouds disperse and my mind cleared for the first time in a month. So I selfishly allowed him to continue pouring healing into
me as I robbed him of his life.
Old Fallon would have insisted he stop. New Fallon selfishly let him.
“What?” I said with barely any emotion at all. Whatever his plan, it wouldn’t work. Nothing was going to stop this magic
from growing inside of me. I was a Bane, and this curse meant that going insane with madness and hopelessness was
inevitable. It was ten times worse than feeling pain when touched. At least then I had felt something. Now I was just an empty
shell, disappearing even to myself.
“You are going to switch our powers again,” Ariyon said, and I gasped. “You are going to give me the darkness, and I’m
going to carry it for you.” He smiled so radiantly then that I wanted to capture the moment in time forever, the moment Ariyon
proposed sacrificing himself for me. It was the truest testament to love that I’d ever known. And one that I would never allow.
I shook my head and leaned forward to press a kiss on his lips. He moaned into my mouth, and I pulled away from him,
wiping my eyes.
“This is my burden to bear, Ariyon. I would never drag you into the darkness in my place,” I told him, and then fully pulled
away, cutting off the healing magic he was giving me. I searched the room for Master Clarke and found him watching us with
interest. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He squinted one eye slightly when he was lost in thought.
“I love you all,” I announced with a shaky breath. “But I need to leave and go someplace remote to let this play out.”
“No!” Eden shouted, stepping forward. “You will not go through this alone.”
Though Ariyon had healed me, at least partially, I still needed to make up for the loss of blood that Marissa had taken. I
was still slightly weak in the knees and tired, but I could feel my power had returned. I pulled my magic into the room and dark
shadows danced along the walls like ghosts.
“You have no idea what I can do now, Eden, how much harm I could bring to all of you if I got out of control,” I told her as
she stared up at the shadows in fear. Then I shook my hands to expel them, and they disappeared.
“I’m not leaving.” Ariyon crossed his arms defiantly.
“Neither am I.” Ayden stood next to his brother and looked at me with so much compassion, I could only shake my head.
Eden didn’t need to speak; she just stepped up beside them silently, and then finally, Hayes sidled up next to Eden.
They were so stupid. Why wouldn’t they just go?
“Wait a minute.” Master Clarke entered the space, and I noticed for the first time, he had a cut along his cheek, probably
from the Nightlings. His hands were wrapped in gauze from my burning him, and I couldn’t bear to look at him. “Ariyon, what
you said about taking the darkness from her was very noble but would only put us in the same position, except it would be you
who we were trying to save.”
Oh. Good. I was glad he agreed with me.
“But what if she only gave you half?” Master Clarke stepped closer again. “And what if she took half of your healing
power?”
“No.” I backed up a step, but Ariyon’s eyes lit up.
“Yes! For a moment in the Realm of Rebirth, when Fallon was switching our powers back, we were stuck with half each.
It’s possible.”
A tiny thread of hope wove its way into my heart. If Ariyon took half of the darkness, I might be able to breathe again, to
feel, to be old Fallon. But I wouldn’t ask him to do that, to take on this madness with me. What if we both went dark?
As if he read my thoughts, Ariyon strode confidently forward, reaching out to cup my face in his hands once more and
causing a full-body flush of heat to run through me. That ache of desire I had thought was dead roared to life with his touch.
“We can beat this. Together,” he promised, not letting go of my face.
“But your Maven healing. It will only be half as strong. You may never save another life again,” I told him.
 He might heal small wounds, but fighting the Grim for a life wouldn’t be possible with only half of his power.
He nodded. “Fallon, from this day forward, if your life is the only one I ever save, it will be worth it.”
My heart pinched at his declaration. “My Bane family powers will try to overtake you,” I said, trying to reason with him.
“Let them try,” he growled. “My healing powers will keep them at bay in both of us. I’m sure of it. Don’t you see, Fallon?
We were made for each other.” Then, just as he had in my dream, he ran the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Awww,” Eden cooed. I had forgotten we weren’t alone.
“Your aunt…” I said, feebly grasping for any reason not to do this.
“Forget my aunt! Do the switch and let’s go home,” Ariyon pleaded with me.
Home—to my dad, The Gilded City, a normal life.
I peered around the room at my people, the ones who showed up in my darkest hour and refused to leave, and I knew that if
I didn’t do this, they would stay on the run with me forever and it would lead them into greater danger. I knew that if we did
that, one day, I would lose control and hurt them.
Yanric flew from Eden’s shoulder and landed on Ariyon’s so he was facing me.
‘Maybe this was what Emmeric saw. You went dark for a time but then you end up saving everyone.’
The Ealdor fae’s prediction had been constantly on my mind. I couldn’t piece together how I would go dark but also save
the entire Gilded City from Marissa and her Nightlings, but maybe this was how.
I held my breath, praying to the Light that this wasn’t a mistake, that by making this choice, no harm would come to Ariyon.
I ached to feel like myself again, to chase away the dark, numb ball of apathy that had formed inside of me.
Reluctantly, I nodded and released the breath I’d been holding.
Ariyon smiled sweetly and dropped his hands to grasp mine.
There was some comfort in Emmeric’s future sight that I would die within the year. That meant Ariyon would only have to
put up with this for a short time.
“I’m going to keep watch outside, in case they come back,” Ayden said, and Hayes nodded in agreement as they both left.
“Last chance to back out,” I warned Ariyon.
“Never,” he breathed, and I closed my eyes.
I tried to remember the last time I’d traded our powers, and the vision of the faucet was brought into my mind’s eye.
‘This will never work. You’ll only infect him too, and you’ll both go mad,’ one of the voices of my ancestors said.
Or it will work, and you’ll be silenced forever, I told her, and the darkness flared to life inside me as if it knew it was
about to be expelled.
Imagining Ariyon’s power as a buttery-yellow light, I opened the faucet and felt it rush into me, splintering through the void
like the sun. Then I imagined another faucet of power opening into him and released some of the dark power that was
consuming me.
Ariyon gasped and my eyes flew open.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
His eyes filled with unshed tears as he swallowed hard. “This is what you’ve been carrying?”
I nodded, and he stepped closer but didn’t release my hands, resting his head on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck.
For the first time in a long time, I felt the numbness leave me. Ariyon’s healing magic flooded my body, breaking up the
darkness like old cobwebs, and I peered down at my hands to see that only one of them had the Maven healer marks. Then I
looked at the top of his and saw that he had only one as well.
In my mind’s eye, I turned off the taps, keeping us both in this in-between state, where we shared powers. I let go of his
hands, and his arms wrapped around me as he held me. Little by little, the emotions that I’d been missing for weeks crept back
into my heart—love, admiration, longing, happiness.
I laughed, a sound so foreign to my ears, it made me sad. I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly laughed.
Ariyon pulled back with a smile and placed a quick kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry you had to carry this alone.”
“I’m sorry you have to help carry it now,” I told him. It was still there, in the background, hiding behind Ariyon’s magic
from the House of Light and Ether.
“Be honest.” He looked at me. “Is this the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for you?”
Laughter pealed out of me, and he grasped my waist, lifting me off the ground and back into his arms. Joy bled into my soul,
giving me life in that moment, and I could hardly believe it. It worked.
‘Yan, how are you feeling?’ I asked my familiar as Ariyon set me down. I was suddenly worried that my bird would not be
fixed. Yes, we were connected, but he didn’t share Ariyon’s powers like I did.
‘Feeling better and ready to go home.’ His voice sounded brighter, and I sagged in relief.
“Yan’s better too,” I told everyone.
“Thank the Light. We should go. Marissa will come back,” Master Clarke announced.
I grabbed my gloves and my pack and took one last look at the dark room. I still wasn’t sure what exactly had gone down
here, but I felt so much better, so much like old Fallon, that even with the prophecy from Emmeric, I was hopeful that whatever
happened from here on, it was going to be okay.
 FOUR

We grabbed Ranger and fled quickly on half a dozen horses. We rode fast and hard in the direction of The Gilded City for a
few hours before slowing to give our horses time to rest. Ariyon took that time to heal Master Clarke’s burned hands. It took
longer than normal, and they didn’t fully heal, but the blisters went down and the pain was gone. There was just a bit of angry
red skin left.
I couldn’t believe Ariyon had given up his power to save lives for me. I couldn’t believe I was going home and that I felt
somewhat normal again. It was all too much to process, especially since I’d spent the last month numb. Now all of my emotions
were hitting me at once.
Once we were riding again at a slow trot, Master Clarke pulled his mare up alongside Ranger. “What happened in there,
Fallon? How was Ariyon able to hurt Marissa?” he asked.
Ariyon answered. “I could feel her energy, like I do with the living. Something’s changed.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “I’m not sure exactly, but she…drank from me.”
Our little group collectively gasped and shame burned through me.
“She said my blood worked. That some prophesy was true, and she was…” I paused as I tried to remember the exact
wording. “…unbound from the shadows now, that I was the key to the Nightlings getting permanent bodies.”
The color leached from Master Clarke’s face.
“She said she could unbind the other Nightlings with the necklace Solana wears…and my blood,” I finished, feeling
ashamed even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.
“That’s how she does it,” Master Clarke breathed. “That’s how they get permanent bodies.”
We rode for another hour in silence, all of us wrapped up in our own thoughts.
“Does your aunt know you came to get me?” I finally asked Ariyon.
He shared a look with Ayden, and I knew what he was going to say wasn’t good.
“Yes,” he answered, but there was hesitation in his voice.
“Just tell me,” I said, knowing Solana had no doubt been pissed when she heard that both of her heirs wanted to jump into
harm’s way for the Bane girl.
Ariyon cleared his throat just as the sound of horse hooves surrounded us. I spun, glancing at the flame emblem on the
breastplate of the now two dozen Gilded City Royal Guards who encircled us.
“She forbid us. So we snuck out,” Ariyon finished.
“You could have been killed!” Solana’s voice echoed in the darkness of the night and we all jumped.
The guards parted, and the forest glowed as Queen Solana rode up on her stallion looking madder than I’d ever seen her.
Even so, my heart softened toward her. Somehow, I always had a soft spot for that woman. Maybe it was my own lack of a
mother growing up. Maybe I was always looking for an older female in my life. Maybe it was the way she fiercely protected
her people, including Ariyon and Ayden. I respected her a lot. Even when she hated me.
“Both still alive. All is well, Auntie.” Ayden gave her a cherry smile, ever the peacemaker.
Solana’s gaze snapped to me and narrowed. Then her eyes flicked to Ariyon and his hands, then back to me and my gloved
hands.
“Take off your gloves,” she commanded.
“Aunt Sol—” Ayden interjected, but she shut him up with a glare.
Her body was literally glowing as if she were emitting sunlight, and I knew this would have to be dealt with sooner or
later.
I pulled the gloves off to reveal the Maven mark on the top of my hand, and she growled, looking at Ariyon with
disappointment. “Is this a joke to you? Is the safety of your people, your brother, a joke?” she asked him.
 I bristled at Solana’s reaction to what Ariyon had done for me, though I wasn’t completely surprised.
He sat taller, glaring at her. “No, it’s not. Is my love for Fallon a joke to you? Would you not do the same for Bastian?”
Her cheeks reddened as she looked around at the guards present. Bastian was the queen’s lover, a guard whom I’d saved
from certain death.
Solana looked at me. “We had a deal. You start going dark, you tell me.”
“What would you have done?” I asked her.
“Locked you up in Bane Manor, as agreed on,” she stated.
“Where my powers would eventually grow, my father would never leave my side, and I’d end up hurting those I love,” I
told her.
She nodded. “I will see to it that your father is removed from the premises and not allowed back. Just give Ariyon his
powers and then I’ll escort you to Bane Manor.”
It hit me then, why she was glowing, why she’d brought two dozen guards with her.
“You think I’m going to hurt you?” I couldn’t keep the sadness from my voice. She was lit up like a tree at Winter Solstice
because she was ready to attack me! In her defense, she probably hadn’t known what shape she would find me in.
“Last I heard, you lit Blair Crawford’s hair on fire with your mind,” she shot back.
Shame rushed through me. “Fair enough. But I’m feeling normal now,” I admitted, and then reached for Ariyon’s hand.
He grasped mine and smiled at me in a show of support.
“We aren’t changing powers back, Aunt Solana. I’m in this with Fallon until the end,” Ariyon declared.
“We all are,” Ayden said, piping up.
“Yep,” Eden popped the p.
“Me too,” Hayes told her.
Solana practically exploded with rage then. Her jaw set, the veins in her neck bulged, and the light glowing off her body
grew brighter. “Fallon Bane, you stop this foolishness right now! Give my nephew back his powers or I’ll⁠—”
“You’ll what?” Ariyon asked, dropping my hand as he kicked the sides of his horse so that it rushed at Queen Solana head-
on.
The entire Royal Army surged forward a few feet as Solana looked, wide-eyed, in disbelief at her nephew.
“I’ve never taken you for a stupid woman. I’ve always looked up to you for your strength and intelligence. So believe me
now when I tell you that it would be very stupid to ever threaten Fallon again. I love her. As I love you. And I won’t hesitate to
protect her. Even from you,” Ariyon announced.
The air was charged with tension, everyone holding their breath. The area around us darkened as Solana’s powers dimmed.
She looked at her nephew with so much hurt, I wanted to tear across the meadow and hug her.
I also wanted to grab Ariyon and kiss him without ever coming up for air after he’d just spoken up for me like that.
“But she could hurt you, me, all of us,” Solana said, but she sounded defeated.
Ariyon held up his hand, the one with no mark. “Not now. Now, we both carry the darkness, and I won’t let anyone get hurt.
I need you to get over this vendetta against her. Either that or Fallon and I leave right now. We go make a life in another town
and you never see us again.”
Solana and I gasped at the same time.
He would do that? For me?
“You wouldn’t.” She said it so softly, I barely heard her.
Ariyon reached out and grabbed her hands in his. “I would,” he whispered back.
A wave of emotions crashed into me then. Whatever feelings of rejection I carried from being left at the gates of Isariah as
a child had mostly healed when my father adopted me. But some had remained. Those remnants were obliterated now, in this
moment, when the Prince of The Gilded City told his aunt he would leave her, his inheritance, all of it—for me.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Let’s go home,” Queen Solana said loudly to everyone.
“With Fallon?” Ariyon prodded.
She looked at me, defeated. “With Fallon.”
Relief melted throughout my limbs as I thought of seeing my father again.
Master Clarke gave me a thumbs-up, and we all set off for The Gilded City together. Never in a million years had I thought
I’d be going back.

WE ENTERED the city in the dead of night. Only a few guards were out, and that was for the best. I wasn’t sure I wanted to
face any of The Gilded City citizens right now. The queen and her Royal Guards escorted us all the way to Bane Manor. Master
Clarke broke off halfway, to head to his house, and told me we would catch up tomorrow. There seemed to be a little sadness
inside of Master Clarke when he left, and I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I felt it a bit too. Our month together out in the
abandoned cabin had bonded us—a traumatic bond but a bond nonetheless. A bond that was, maybe, like a budding father-
daughter relationship. Now we would go back to our old lives—teacher and student.
When we reached Bane manor, Ariyon, Ayden, Eden, and Hayes vowed not to leave my side, claiming we would have a
sleepover. I was exhausted yet exhilarated at the same time. After not feeling emotions for so long, joy and happiness were
bubbling over inside me.
“We will talk about this in the morning and make some ground rules,” Queen Solana told me.
I just nodded, grateful she hadn’t caged me right then and there.
After she left, I knocked on the door. I had left without my key, and I hoped my dad wouldn’t be too startled when he⁠—
The door ripped open, and my father stood there looking alert, like he’d stayed up waiting. “Fallon!” His voice caught as
he reached for my covered shoulders.
“We told him we were going to get you,” Eden said from behind me.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked at him. My father looked unkempt, with a full beard and dark circles under his eyes, and I
realized that leaving without him must have hurt him so badly.
“Are you okay?” He frantically glanced over my body as if searching for wounds. His eyes filled with tears when I nodded.
“She’s fine.” Ariyon stepped up and squeezed my dad’s shoulder. “I brought her home like I said I would.”
My father dropped my hands and pulled Ariyon into a hug, and my throat constricted.
“I’m so thankful for you, son,” my dad murmured in Ariyon’s ear, and I looked at Eden to see she was tearing up.
I saw now that my leaving had left a mark on all of them, and the guilt of it wormed its way into my chest.
“I’m sorry I left. I had no other choice. I was⁠—”
“It’s okay.” Eden stepped up beside me and took my gloved hand in hers, giving it a hard squeeze. “You don’t need to
explain. We’re just so glad you’re home.”
“Is anyone else hungry?” Hayes blurted out, and we all burst into laughter.
My father pulled away from Ariyon, wiping at his eyes, and shrugged. “It’s the middle of the night, but I could make some
breakfast.”
With that, we all filed into the kitchen. My dad turned on the oven, getting into his element. It was a far cry from having to
ration meat and bread in the same meal. Within an hour, my dad had baked cheddar biscuits, and made a huge pile of scrambled
eggs and a whole plate of sausages.
Everyone traded stories about what I had missed while I was gone. I quickly learned that Queen Solana had the entire city
wall reinforced with a magical barrier that detected Nightlings and sounded an alarm when they broke through. The school and
all the rich homes on the East Side had built underground bunkers that were magically lined to keep Nightlings out, even in
their shadow form.
“What about the Westies?” I asked.
Eden chuckled. “We’ll be the first to die in an attack.”
She was joking…but not really. And it wasn’t funny.
“Speaking of the West Side.” Hayes piped up with a mouth full of sausage. “The ‘ice cream’ shop is thriving. Queen Solana
even stops by to get a scoop and leaves a huge tip to keep everything running.”
I smiled at that, remembering how she’d acted when she had stopped by to see Avis in her regular shop on the East Side
and bought a bunch of her tinctures, leaving a big tip that time too. Solana was good at heart.
“Are you doing a lot of healings? Are people getting better?” I asked eagerly. It had been partly my dream to get a better
healing clinic going on the West Side. I was sad I wasn’t there to see it.
Eden nodded. “Hundreds. Morale is up within the city, and everyone is doing great. The clinic actually has time to see the
serious cases.”
That was a relief. “Is…Avis okay?” The guilt was back. I’d left her too.
Eden nodded. “She misses you. She’ll be thrilled you’re back.”
It was a lot to take in, Marissa feeding off of me and somehow now having a forever body, Ariyon taking half my power
and giving me his, all the news about what had happened here while I was gone.
I yawned, suddenly exhausted, and everyone nodded.
“Let’s crash.” Hayes leaned back and tapped his tummy, which was now bloated.
“I call the red bed!” Eden popped up.
“No, that’s the most comfortable one!” Ayden said, frowning.
I peered at them, confused. What was the red bed? And why did it sound like they had slept over here before?
“Come on. I’ll show you.” Eden pulled my hand, and I followed her to a large room on the first floor. It used to be a giant
ballroom. When she opened the doors, my heart pinched. In the center of the room were four beds, all lined in a neat row. Each
bed had curtains for privacy hanging from their four tall posts. One had a red comforter, one blue, one black, and one gray. At
the far wall were maps and notes stuck to it in Eden’s handwriting.
 “Your dad kind of…broke down when you left. So we started sleeping over to keep him company and do research. Then,
we all started looking for you, and it kind of stuck. We stay here three nights a week and your dad cooks. It’s like a really cool
dorm.”
I put my hands over my face then, hiding the shame I felt for causing them all to go through this.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Eden peeled my fingers back one by one, forcing me to look at her. I had missed her wild, red, curly hair
and intense stare. Her honesty and laugh. Her loyalty.
“I just wish I could hug you, Fallon. I was so worried.”
I nodded, pulling my hands down. “Thanks for understanding, and thanks for being such a good friend.”
Hayes rushed past us then, sprinting to the red bed and diving in.
Eden growled. “Hey! Not fair.” She tore after him.
I smiled at the banter, and my heart was filled. It felt so good to feel again, like the dark clouds had lifted from my mind and
I was back to being me.
“Glad you’re back.” Ayden squeezed my hand as he passed by, but I gripped his hard, yanking him to a stop.
I faced him, on the verge of tears. “I don’t deserve such a loyal friend. Thank you, Ayden.”
He smiled then, a devastatingly handsome smile that still sometimes threw me, seeing as he was identical in looks to my
boyfriend.
“Okay, that’s enough hand-holding,” Ariyon broke in jokingly, and Ayden laughed, dropping my gloved hand as Ariyon
cupped the sides of my face.
“Are you jealous?” I asked him, referring to my hand-holding with Ayden.
“A tiny bit. I mean, he is your ex, and we do share the same face.”
I grinned at that. “And he is nicer than you.”
“Hey!” He poked me playfully in the ribs and laughter pealed out of me.
“Light, I missed that laugh.” He leaned his forehead against mine and my body heated at the proximity.
I nuzzled his neck, peppering it with kisses before moving up to his ear. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Always,” he murmured back, and kissed me good night.
I had no doubt that the Light had made Ariyon just for me.

AFTER WISHING all of my friends good night and approving Yanric’s request to snuggle with Eden, I went to my room and
dug through my clothes. My dad had worried about me the entire time I was gone, and I felt awful about that, so I was going to
do something we used to do when I was a kid. It felt pretty stupid but also good, and I knew he needed it as much as I did.
Slicking my hair into a bun, I threw my traveling cloak on over long pants and made sure my socks and gloves were covering
me. I had Ariyon’s healing powers now, and if my dad accidently touched me, then so be it. I would heal. I wanted to hug my
dad, and I didn’t want to use the tincture that Emmeric had made for me just yet. I was saving the special potion that would
suspend my curse and allow me to touch my loved ones for another day.
Padding down the hallway, I knocked on his door. He opened it, looking concerned. When he saw me all bundled up, he
gave me a sad smile.
“Hug?” I asked.
He rushed back into his room, putting on his coat to cover his arms, and then met me back in the doorway. I carefully turned
my head to the side and then wrapped my arms around him, making sure my exposed face was turned away and nowhere near
his. His arms tightened around me so hard, it hurt and felt good at the same time.
“Oh, kiddo, I was so worried. Why didn’t you take me with you? I would do anything for you.”
“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I clung to him, relishing the feeling of a simple hug from my father, something I was
constantly deprived of.
Touch was such a natural thing for so many, they didn’t even realize how often they did it.
“You wouldn’t hurt me.” He sounded certain.
I didn’t want to tell him about burning Master Clarke. I was sure he’d heard about Blair and her hair, and maybe he thought
it was an accident. Well, it was an accident, but maybe he loved me too much to realize what I could have become had the
darkness fully consumed me. I liked him thinking I could never hurt him, so I didn’t say anything to counter it. I just held him,
said I was sorry, and told him how much I loved him.
That night, I slept better than I had in weeks.
 FIVE

The next day I awoke in the afternoon. The blood loss from Marissa drinking from me had definitely affected my energy level,
even with Ariyon’s magic running through my veins. By the time I got downstairs, our housekeeper Daniella was already
cleaning up the kitchen and everyone was gone.
“Oh, Fallon, we’re so glad you’re home,” she told me.
I smiled and thanked her. “Where is everyone?”
“Your dad went to work. He left you a note. And the kids went to school. Ariyon said to come over to his place after.”
I smiled at the thought of my dad leaving one of his little four-word notes, but when she handed me the letter with multiple
sentences, the smile turned to a full-fledged grin.

Hey Kido,
Ayden has ben teachin me to read and write. Come to Budderflie Inn if
you need me. Otherwyze I wull see you latur.
I luv you.
Dad.

I HELD the letter to my chest and had to blink back tears. Ayden was the sweetest soul, so giving in nature. My father learning
to read and write would help him go further at work and in life, and I was so grateful in this moment. I stowed the note away in
a kitchen drawer so I could keep it forever.
I looked around the kitchen, took in a deep breath, and sighed. There were a lot of amends to make today before I felt
comfortable just returning to my normal life. With that, I grabbed a muffin and walked down to the basement. Striding over to
the glass-top display case, I slipped the creepy shell crystal, the one that seemed to be some sort of a link to the Realm of
Rebirth, into my backpack and then went outside to get Ranger.
Yanric flew down from the trees to meet me.
‘Where we going?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to see Queen Solana. Meet up later?’ I asked him back.
‘I’ll go see Eden. It’s lunchtime. She’s probably got some extra saved for me.’
I smiled at that. She probably did.
Yanric flew off and I rode to the castle. I waited at the front for over ten minutes, while two guards ran my message to the
Queen. After an agonizing wait, half a dozen Royal Guards escorted me to her office. I felt like a criminal, but I understood. I
was constantly disappointing this woman, and she’d probably never trust me again.
When the guard knocked on the door to her office, Queen Solana opened it and met my gaze. “Hello, Fallon.” She sounded
like she’d barely slept.
I gave her a goofy wave, unsure what to say or do, and waited for her to invite me inside—assuming she was going to.
She might just have them throw me in her basement jail right now.
“Come in,” she said, sighing, and then stepped out of the doorway.
I moved to go inside, and the guards moved with me, but she held up a hand. “I’m fine to speak to her alone.”
“Your Highness, I advise against that,” one of the guards said.
 She raised one eyebrow at him. “Noted.” Then she shut the door in his face.
I wanted to snicker at the way she’d shown him who was boss, but my stomach was in knots. This conversation was going
to be awkward, no doubt, but we had to get through it.
“You broke your promise to me, Fallon,” she said without hesitating.
I held my finger to my lips, indicating she be silent, and she frowned. I pulled the crystal shell out of my bag, with a note I
had written, and put it on her desk. The note explained this was a listening device to the Realm of Rebirth and that I wasn’t sure
if it worked both ways, so we should be quiet while it was in the room.
When she sat and read the note, her eyebrows shot up impossibly high on her forehead. Then she grabbed the shell and held
it to her ear, pushing a lock of blond hair away from her face.
There was a moment of her listening, and then surprise showed on her face as her mouth went slack. She gave me a
quizzical look and then nodded. Standing from the desk, she strode across the room and disappeared behind the secret
bookcase and into her secondary room before returning without the shell.
“Thank you for that. It might help us in the fight to come,” she said.
I nodded. “I wanted to come and apologize for breaking my word to you. To be honest, I was afraid that if I stayed, I would
do horrible things to the people I love, and I couldn’t stand that.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But you won’t do horrible things now?”
I pulled off my glove and tapped Ariyon’s Maven mark. “I feel like myself again. In control. No voices, no nightmares, no
angry power outbursts.”
She stared at the mark as if she wanted to will it away, and I knew she hated that Ariyon had given it to me, that he had
compromised his ability to heal for me.
“I still want to work with you on defeating Marissa and the Nightlings,” I told her.
She crossed her arms, taking me in with a shrewd gaze. “I’m not sure I want your help, if I’m being honest. I thought we had
trust. You assured me you weren’t going to go dark. You promised if you did, you would tell me. I don’t have room for anyone
in my Brigade whom I feel I have to watch my back around,” she said bluntly.
Her words stung, but I understood where she was coming from.
She needed to trust me, and in order for her to do that, I had to lay it all out there for her. I had to tell her everything.
“When I went to see the Ealdor Fae about Ariyon…he told me my future.”
She gasped. “Can that be true?”
I nodded. “I assure you, it is. He knew things only someone who sees the future would know. I gave him my word I would
tell no one about his abilities. Not even Ariyon or my father know.”
Solana nodded, looking serious. “I will take it to my grave. I went to school with someone who could glimpse the future.
It’s very delicate magic that not everyone is powerful enough to carry.”
I hoped she meant that because Emmeric trusted me with his truth, and I didn’t want to betray that. “He told me exactly how
to break Ariyon out of the Realm of Rebirth. He told me I would go dark, but he also told me I would save everyone in The
Gilded City,” I said.
Solana sat up straighter and cocked her head to the side. “He told you that? That you would save everyone?”
I nodded. “He said that I would save the entire Gilded City but at great cost.”
Solana frowned. “What cost?”
I swallowed hard. “Before I tell you, I need you to swear you will not tell anyone else. I don’t intend to tell my family or
friends.”
Her frown deepened. “I swear it on my crown.”
I nodded and continued, “He said the cost would be my life, and that within the year, I would be dead.”
Queen Solana gasped, her brow knotting and causing her to look much older.
Silence stretched between us, and her concern changed to shock.
“So you won’t have to worry about Ariyon,” I said, tapping the Maven mark on my hand. “This is temporary.”
“Fallon, I…I don’t know what to say. Is he sure? The Ealdor fae?”
“He’s sure,” I said calmly. I’d come to terms with it all.
She blew air through her lips. “You sure know how to get my heart pumping.”
I laughed. “Well, hang on, there is more.” I caught her up on what had happened the previous night—that Marissa had drunk
from me and seemed to be a living being now and possibly more powerful, though Ariyon had certainly injured her. I also told
her that if Marissa killed Solana and got that necklace, along with my blood, she had a way to give her Nightlings permanent
bodies.
Solana’s eyes were wide the entire time.
“Well, I need a drink.” She stood and walked over to a cabinet, opening it to reveal a bottle of amber liquid. After pouring
the fluid in the glass, she took it back in one shot. Then she came to sit back in front of me.
“So what do we do?” she asked me. “Did the Ealdor Fae say how you win the battle?”
 I shook my head. “We still gotta figure that out, but I know we win.”
She scoffed. “Well, that’s a lot of pressure. What if we take a vacation and do nothing and the future changes?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea how all that works.”
Solana nodded, tapping the desk. “All right, well…I guess we’re on the same team again?”
I couldn’t help the smile that graced my face. “If you’ll have me.”
“You just told me you were going to die within the year and that you would do so saving my people. I think I have to now,”
she said jokingly.
I laughed and stood. “We’ll be in touch?”
She nodded.
And with that, I turned to leave her office, feeling much better than when I came.
“Oh, Fallon!” Solana crossed the room and handed me a flat box the size of my palm, tied with a white ribbon.
I frowned.
“I wanted to throw it into the fire, but I kept it because you earned it,” she explained.
I pulled the ribbon off the package and lifted the lid in confusion. A lump formed in my throat when I saw the giant gold
flame broach. Engraved along the bottom were the words: Order of the Flame. Fallon Brookshire.
“You used my dad’s name,” I managed to say.
She waved me off as if she’d become uncomfortable with my show of emotion. “Ariyon’s idea. Wear it on your shirt for the
next few days and people will know I have forgiven you. That you’re one of us again.”
I didn’t want to push my luck, but there was one thing I wanted to ask her. “Do you think there is any possible way I could
go back to the Academy?”
She winced. “Fallon, I’m sorry, but that’s never going to happen. Blair’s father made me promise if you resurfaced that you
would never set foot on school grounds again. I gave him my word.”
I nodded, feeling like I’d been punched in the gut. I’d scared Blair’s family so badly that they were worried about their
daughter’s safety around me. Even though she was the one who jumped me with her friends and nearly killed me. Still, what I
did to her was inexcusable, and she was on my list of people to see today.
“I understand.”
“We can arrange for private tutoring at Bane Manor?” she offered.
“Sounds good,” I told her and left.

I LEFT Ranger at the queen’s stable because I didn’t want to be recognized in town.
My next stop was the one I was dreading the most, even more than having to leave a letter at Blair’s house on Royal Row
later today. I didn’t really ever look up to Blair, so if she hated me, it didn’t hurt. But Avis was another story. If I’d had a
normal mother, I imagined she’d be someone like Avis. She was kind, forgiving, and always caring about others. I was her
employee, and I had left without even saying goodbye. More than that, I was her friend.
Since I lived on the East Side now, even though it was in an off-the-beaten-path part of the city, I didn’t need to show ID to
the guards to get to Avis Apothecary. I kept my cloak’s hood pulled up and my head down as I walked past the brightly colored
shops and was reminded of my first night here. It felt like forever ago that I’d broken into The Gilded City to save my father’s
life and experienced the kindness this woman had shown me. Ultimately, it was her knowledge of where to find Ariyon that had
saved him.
By the time I reached Avis’s shop, I was so filled with shame and remorse, I couldn’t bear to go inside. So I paced the front
instead, trying to build up the nerve. What would I say? Did she hire someone else? Did she hate me? Was she scared of me?
This was a small city. I was betting she’d heard about me lighting Blair’s hair on fire, and⁠—
The door opened to my left and Avis was there, eyes alight, smile plastered on. “You’re home,” she said, beaming, and
rushed at me.
My throat clogged with emotion as her hands clamped around my shoulders and squeezed.
“Light, I missed you, child. I was so worried about you.” Her eyes grew misty, and all of my apprehension fled. Of course
she would be amazing about this.
She scanned my body, no doubt reading my energy, and nodded. “You seem to be yourself again.”
I pulled off one of the gloves and showed her Ariyon’s Maven mark. Her eyes flew open wider.
“I’m so sorry for leaving and not saying anything,” I managed.
She waved me off. “I’m closing shop. Let’s have some hot chocolate and catch up.”
An hour later, with a belly full of hot chocolate and a warm heart, I left her shop relieved that Avis understood everything.
She said fleeing was a normal response, and she was glad that Ariyon and I had figured out a way to stave off the darkness. I
didn’t tell her about my expiration date, though. That was for Yanric, myself, and the queen alone to know. Avis even gave me
my job back with more hours if I wanted, since I wasn’t going to be in school anymore, and she helped me pen my apology
letter to Blair.
Now I was on my way to Blair’s mansion to drop it off, even if only to assuage my guilt about what I’d done to her.
‘She tried to kill you with her friends.’ Yanric dipped from the tree and sat on my shoulder.
I chuckled. ‘She did. But I’m better than her, so I’m going to do this right,’ I told him.
Yanric voiced his disagreement and then told me to meet him at Ariyon’s after. He was heading to pick up Eden from
school.
I nodded.
I took my time getting to Blair’s, thinking about the letter and wondering if it was good enough to explain how sorry I was.
Lighting someone’s hair on fire wasn’t exactly something I ever thought I’d have to apologize for, but it was an accident and out
of my control. So this was the best I could do. I pulled off my gloves to air out my sweaty hands and held the letter between my
fingers as I stopped before Blair’s huge, light blue mansion.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up the steps and set the letter right in front of the door, on the ground. Should I knock and
run? Or just leave? Eventually they would see it, right? I didn’t want to be seen⁠—
“What the Nightling are YOU doing here?” Blair’s voice came from behind me, and I yelped as I spun around.
Blair stood before me with her school bag dropped to the ground and a fireball in both of her palms. Her hair was cropped
short in a cute pixie style that actually suited her, but I knew she’d been forced into that cut because of what I’d done.
“I… Just leaving an apology letter,” I squeaked.
Her gaze went to the letter at the door, and the fire disappeared from her palms. The letter soared through the air and landed
perfectly in her palm.
She stared at me as she tore open the envelope. I suddenly remembered her father, Ethan Crawford, and how he’d fallen in
love with Solana and had been betrothed to her—how after Marissa cursed Solana with barenness, he’d left her for someone
else so he could have children.
Blair.
“You don’t have to read it now,” I told her.
“Shut up,” she snipped.
I was debating whether to run home or not when she began to read. So I decided to just stay. Maybe this was better, maybe
she wanted to chew me out to my face, and if that would help her heal, then I’d take it.
After she read the letter, her face had softened a bit. She let it fall to her backpack and then stared me down, her gaze
falling on the bare hands that rested at my sides and the mark that sat atop one of them.
Her mouth popped open. “So it’s true? Ariyon gave you half of his power?”
I swallowed hard.
“He must really love you.” She said it with so much pain in her voice, in that moment, I knew she’d loved him too.
I hugged my arms. “Listen, Blair…what I did… I’m so sor⁠—”
She waved me off. “I don’t want to talk about that, but if you ever come at me with those dark powers again, I’ll drive a
sword through your heart.”
Whoa.
I nodded, swallowing hard. Fair enough. I did almost burn her alive. “All right. I’ll see you around.”
I moved to leave when she reached out and caught my covered upper arm. Fear flushed through me, and I was tempted to
pull for my power, but I didn’t want to upset her further. Yet I wasn’t sure if I needed to defend myself. I turned to face her and
found an appraising look in her eyes. “Can you keep a secret, Fallon Bane?”
I swallowed hard, only able to nod. She’d switched gears and I was trying to keep up.
She released me and swooped down to pick up her bag and the letter. “Then come inside. There is someone I want you to
meet.”
Meet someone? She just told me she’d kill me if I summoned dark powers around her. Now she wanted me to come inside
her home?
But I was curious by nature, and there was no way I was leaving without seeing who Blair Crawford would want me to
meet.

THE INSIDE of Blair’s home was exactly as I thought it would be: richly decorated, spotless, and full of household staff doing
every chore, from laundry to dusting to landscaping. Blair first stopped in the kitchen and grabbed an apple. “Want a snack?”
she asked me casually, as if we weren’t sworn enemies.
 I shook my head, wondering if Blair was ill. Maybe she was here to lock me in her basement or poison me. I wouldn’t put
it past her to have some long, thought-out revenge plot. I was stupid to even come here. She was probably two seconds from
pinning me down and shaving my head.
“I should go, actually…” I said as I slowly backed out of the kitchen.
“My mother is the one who made the original prophesy about the upcoming Nightling war,” Blair said, and then bit into her
apple with a satisfying crunch.
My mouth popped open at her words. Her mother? The one Queen Solana spoke of, who she had gone to school with that
could glimpse the future?
I was speechless.
Blair stepped closer to me, her face falling a little. “At first, everyone thought my mom was the most powerful fae of her
generation, that she was there to glimpse the future and inform everyone of their fate.”
Darkness cast a shadow over Blair’s face, and I knew this story would not end well.
“It turns out glimpsing the future takes a toll. Looking into the future is dangerous for my mother. With each glimpse, she
permanently loses something—her eyesight, health, mental capacities.”
I gasped. I had no idea. “Oh, Blair, I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “My mother was adopted, like you, found in a village outside Moonsreach. They think now that one of her
parents was Ealdor Fae and the other magicless. That’s where she gets the gift, the Ealdor Fae side.”
I stayed quiet. I’d never out Emmeric to Blair, no matter how vulnerable she was being.
“But it turns out when you mix a magicless and a powerful Ealdor Fae, it doesn’t work out flawlessly. The magic takes a
toll, sucks the life out of the person glimpsing.”
My stomach sank.
Blair stared at her apple as if lost in a memory. “When my father’s engagement to the queen didn’t work out, he chose the
next most powerful fae at The Academy. My mother.” Blair nodded as if to herself. “I don’t blame my father for being
ambitious, but he’s not great at sticking around when things get tough.”
She looked up at me. “Do you want to meet her? She had a vision about you, and she has been talking about you nonstop for
weeks.”
My mouth went dry. She was alive? I wasn’t sure where the story was going to end. A vision about me? That thought scared
me. The last time someone had a vision about my future, they saw me die. But I wasn’t sure it could get any worse than that, so
I nodded.
“Sure. I’d love to,” I said, totally thrown for a loop at all of these events.
Blair nodded. “She lives in the guesthouse out back. My father hides her away and says she is reclusive.”
My heart pinched at that. Her father made his wife live separately from them?
I followed her to the back door, where she waved to a butler.
“Going to see my mother,” she told him, and he nodded as he dusted some already-clean surface.
When we stepped outside, I was blown away by the immaculate grounds and beautiful, light-pink guesthouse with a teal
front door.
“My mom likes color.” Blair looked at the house and smiled.
“Hang on a second, Blair, why are you acting so…normal around me? In the beginning of the school year, you tried to kill
me, and I set your hair on fire not that long ago. You’re acting like it doesn’t even bother you now. What changed?”
Did Ariyon talk to her?
She stopped in the yard and sucked in a big breath, picking at her nails. “When you…went dark and disappeared, Ariyon
begged my mother to look into where you were, if you were okay, and how he could find you. He told her it was essential in
winning the war against the Nightlings, which she had prophesied.”
My heart sank into my chest. “No.”
Blair nodded. “She’s always had a soft spot for Ariyon. So she did it. She got weaker after that, but that’s not the point.”
She gave me a shy look. “When my mother tried to find where you were, she had a completely different vision about you in the
future, and well…she said we would be friends…ish. I mean, she said I was going to help you.”
Whoa. My mind was spinning. Blair and I, friends? Her mother seemed to have the same ability as Emmeric, but obviously
it took a toll on her magicless half.
“I’d say anything is possible.” I gave Blair a small smile. I was so glad Yanric wasn’t here, or he’d poop on her head for
even suggesting it and then try to peck her eyes out.
“Listen, I owe you an apology too,” Blair said. “I was jealous of Ariyon’s fascination with you, and every time I looked at
you, I just saw your mother and all of the horrible things she did to our people years ago.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at the heartfelt apology. “Thanks for that.”
Blair nodded. “I mean, we aren’t going to be besties or anything, but I’ll help you if I can.”
I smirked. “Fair enough.”
 Help with what, I had no idea, but I hoped I was about to find out because not a lot was making sense right now.
We crossed the rest of the space to the teal-painted door, and Blair turned to me. “She’s…eccentric. Some of her mind has
been lost to the glimpsing. She can’t see at all and the hearing in her right ear is gone, so you have to shout. But she makes the
best praline pie in all of the East Side, and she’s the sweetest woman I know.” There was a threat in her voice, like if I were
about to make fun of her mother, she’d strangle me.
I smiled at the way she spoke of her mother, though my heart was saddened to hear that glimpsing the future had harmed her.
“Well, if she has any pie in there right now, it’s going to get eaten,” I assured her.
The door opened suddenly to reveal a stunningly beautiful blond woman wearing a bright pink dress. Her hair hung in two
loose, messy braids, and she smiled at Blair. “I hear my darling daughter, but who is this new voice?” She reached for me with
her bare hands as if to feel my face, and I leapt backward.
Blair intervened, grasping her mother’s fingers and curling them into a ball. “Mother, I’ve brought…Fallon Bane to meet
you.”
The grin the woman wore got even wider and she jumped up and down, laughing, and then spun into a circle. “She’s here!”
Blair smiled at her mom, and I couldn’t help but match her joy. The carefree, childlike happiness was contagious. I quickly
took a moment to put on my gloves so I could avoid any accidents.
“Oh, come in, Fallon!” her mother said excitedly. “I’m Lorraine, and I’ve being waiting to meet you.”
“Hi, Lorraine.” I stepped into her house and surveyed the space. It was neat and tidy and full of color. Pale yellow walls,
turquoise furniture, and floral wallpaper.
“She’s looking around at your place,” Blair said, narrating what I was doing, and I realized it might have been rude for me
to just remain silent and stare at her things. But Lorraine was smiling hugely and didn’t seem to mind.
“Before I lost my sight, I was in love with color and patterns and artwork. I figured now that I’m blind, there is no reason
to live with white walls. Now my guests can enjoy the colors.”
“It’s lovely and brings out very happy feelings,” I told her.
“Is it true you cannot be touched or it will trigger your curse?” Lorraine asked.
I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see the action. “Yes,” I said loudly.
“Even your hair? I asked Blair if your hair could be touched.”
Was that why Blair had grabbed my bun that day? Maybe it was innocent, and she hadn’t known it would hurt me.
“Even my hair.”
“Fascinating,” Lorraine breathed, her eyes wide. “I’ve never met a cursed person before.”
Blair cleared her throat uncomfortably, but I gave her a reassuring smile.
I could see the eccentric side of her mother. Focusing on the details of my curse right after meeting me might be considered
rude, but I could tell she wasn’t malicious. She had an inquisitive mind.
“Oh, Fallon, I have so many things to tell and show you. I don’t know where to start…” Lorraine’s face suddenly fell.
“I’ll help you, Mother.” Blair stepped forward and reached for her mother’s fingers, interlocking them.
Lorraine nodded at that, seeming to find some composure. “Let’s go to my office.”
I followed Blair and Lorraine down a lime-green hallway and into a large office with wall-to-wall books and a desk that
sat in the middle.
“Is she looking at the books?” Lorraine asked Blair.
“She is,” Blair told her mother.
Lorraine smiled as she sat at her desk and began to rifle through her papers. “You are no doubt wondering what a blind
lady needs books for, but my sweet Blair reads to me every day. I get to laze about and listen to her beautiful voice.”
My heart pinched at the way Lorraine spoke of her daughter. It was a mother-daughter relationship I envied and it had me
wondering how Blair had turned into such a bully. But even as I thought it, I knew it was from having an eccentric mother who
depended on her help with daily tasks and a father who hid her mother in the backyard, away from society. That might have
been too much pressure for Blair, and she let off steam by picking on other people. Still didn’t make it right, but I could see her
life wasn’t perfect.
“Should I talk about the war first or the portal? Or maybe I should just let her read the journal entry, oh I need to tell her
about the dagger⁠—”
Blair placed a hand on her mother’s back and rubbed small circles as she sat next to her.
Lorraine released a shaky breath and smiled in her daughter’s general direction.
“Why don’t you start with the dagger? That seemed the most important,” Blair told her mother.
I was so lost. Portal? Dagger? But I was trying to be patient.
“Yes.” Lorraine laid her hands flat on the desk and chewed on her bottom lip, closing her eyes. “I can still see it.” She
smiled. “Black metal, with no shine, like it is made from darkness itself. A Shadow Blade.” The smile was wiped from her
mouth, and I shared a look of confusion with Blair.
Blair grabbed a sketch from the desk and handed it to me. “I tried to draw what she described.” The sketch looked like
what Lorraine was detailing. The handle was ornate black scrollwork and the blade as solid dark as Yanric’s feathers.
“What is this Shadow Blade?” I asked Lorraine, trying to get her to focus on one thing.
The woman nodded. “You will wield it. You will hold it gloriously in battle and defeat all of the Nightlings, rendering them
nonexistent.”
Chills raced along my arms, and I swallowed hard.
Blair wiggled in her seat. “Tell her everything, Mother. Tell her what it costs to wield the Shadow Blade.”
Lorraine’s face fell and she reached for me. I caught her fingers with my own gloved ones and squeezed. If her vision was
the same as Emmeric’s, then I already knew the cost.
“Your life is required to wield the blade, Fallon.”
There it was. Undeniable proof that I was going to die. Two powerful fae had glimpsed the future, and both had seen my
demise. Yes, I’d come to terms with it, but hearing someone else say it was like ripping the scab off a healing wound.
“I know” was all I said. “And that’s okay.”
Blair looked shocked at how easily I’d accepted my own death, but I still would not share the knowledge of Emmeric’s gift
with others.
“Tell me where I can find the blade. How does it work? Tell me everything you saw,” I asked her.
Lorraine dropped my hand and began to trace her fingers along her desk as if drawing something. “The blade attracts
shadow souls. It will draw the Nightlings to it, like moths to a flame, trapping them inside, but only after you activate it,” she
said.
Whoa. Sucking hundreds, even thousands, of Nightling souls into a blade sounded like a terrifying nightmare.
“How do I activate it?” I asked.
Lorraine frowned. Getting up abruptly from her chair and walking over to a corner of the room, she bent down, as if she
were looking at something on the floor.
Blair gave me an embarrassed smile. “Mother, how did she activate the blade in the vision?”
Lorraine looked over at us. “Oh, she just picked it up.” She made a motion like she was picking up a blade from the ground
and held it in her hand.
I realized then that she was reenacting her vision, which probably helped her explain it better.
“Picking it up doesn’t sound so hard,” I said, smiling.
Lorraine nodded. “But the power of the blade comes from you, from your undying flame. The price paid is your life. You…
feed the blade your energy, all of it, and it…eats the souls of the Nightlings all over the city, saving everyone.”
The words “feeding” and “eating” in relation to a dagger were giving me the creeps, but if there was one single weapon
that could eradicate all of the Nightlings in the vicinity, I wanted it.
Blair frowned. “Mother she has one of Ariyon’s Maven marks right now, to keep her from going dark. How will that
work?”
My stomach sank before Lorraine even answered because I knew what her response would be.
“She must give Ariyon back his power and take all of her darkness back into her. The blade requires every last drop of
Fallon’s Undying Flame to work.” She confirmed my worst fear—taking on the darkness again…but it also meant that Ariyon
would soon be given back what belonged to him, and that made me feel good.
“Where do I find it?” I asked, hanging on her every word.
She frowned, looking in Blair’s direction.
“That’s where things got muddled. My mother can’t stay in a vision for too long before…becoming ill. She said we were
all at a school event of some kind but not here in The Gilded City. There were canoes, a fire pit. We scaled a mountain, Ariyon,
Eden, Ayden, Hayes, you, and I. And some other boy she didn’t recognize who had tattoos. We all worked together and found
the blade, but we had to be secret about it, almost like we were stealing it.”
My eyes felt like they were going to fall out of my head. That was a lot of information. A school event but not? “Canoes?” I
asked.
Blair shrugged. “Sometimes her visions don’t make sense…until they do.”
Okay, fair enough. “Anything else?” I asked.
Lorraine was humming softly to herself now.
“Does the Shadow Blade also help me defeat Marissa?” I wasn’t even technically sure if Marissa was still a Nightling
after drinking from me.
Lorraine stopped humming. “You don’t defeat Marissa.”
It felt like the air whooshed out of me. “What do you mean? I save everyone. I win the war by taking out all the Nightlings,
right?”
Lorraine nodded. “Yes, but you don’t kill Marissa. Someone else does. In an effort to protect you.”
The chills returned. “Who? Ariyon? Queen Solana? Do they get hurt?”
Lorraine tapped her forehead with an index finger, harder and harder each time. “It’s blurry!”
 Blair leapt off the desk and ran to her mother, wrapping her mom’s fingers in her own to keep her mom from tapping too
hard. “Okay, Mother. That’s okay. Someone else does.”
Lorraine relaxed and repeated, “Someone else does.”
I didn’t want to hear anymore, but also…I did. I needed to hear everything. I was overwhelmed yet yearning for more. “You
said there was something about a portal?”
“The portal!” Lorraine shouted, and Blair jumped beside her. “Oh, that’s very important. There will be many attacks, with
one happening unexpectedly on the West Side. You make the portal,” she said as she drew a large wheel in the air with her
hands, “and get everyone safely inside Bane Manor.”
I gasped. “I make a portal?”
Lorraine cocked her head to the side. “You don’t know how to yet?”
Blair looked at me with curiosity then. A portal? Eden had suspected I was capable of it after taking Ariyon’s body down
to the Realm of Eternity, but I wasn’t so sure.
“Bane Manor?” Why in the fae would I portal everyone to Bane Manor? I questioned Lorraine’s sanity a little bit at this
point, but some of the things she was saying lined up with what Emmeric had said, so I knew they must be true. She knew I was
going to die to save everyone.
Lorraine just nodded. “It must make sense later. I don’t know all the details.” She tapped her head hard again, and Blair
took her mother’s hands and dropped them to her waist. “If that’s all, Mother, maybe you would like to get some rest?”
Her mom nodded rapidly. “The portal, the Shadow Blade, her death, saving the people. Yes, yes, that’s all.”
Thank the Light because I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. Lorraine reached up to cup Blair’s face. “You need to
speak to your father about getting Fallon back in school. You can’t find the Shadow Blade unless she goes with you to the place
with the canoes.”
Blair pursed her lips, like speaking to her father about getting me back in school was the last thing she wanted to do. I’d
literally just spoken to the queen about it, and she’d said it wasn’t possible. Still…maybe if Blair’s dad forgave me.
I wouldn’t mind eating lunch under the trees with Eden again.
“Yes, Mother,” Blair told her, and kissed the top of her hand before walking her out of the room. As her mother passed me,
she reached for me, and I had to duck to avoid her touching my face.
“Careful, Mother. Remember her curse?” Blair said, and Lorraine pulled her hand back.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry, Fallon.”
I realized that touching was her way of communicating, so I reached for her hands with my gloved ones. When she felt
them, she squeezed tightly and smiled. “It was such an honor to meet you, Fallon. This gift has taken so much from me, but to
know that my glimpsing might help you save everyone in The Gilded City…it makes it all worth it.”
My heart pinched at that. It was a deeply profound and selfless thing to say.
“The honor was mine.” I squeezed her hands again and then Blair led her down the hall to her room, seemingly to go lie
down.
When she returned, I was looking at the drawing of the Shadow Blade.
“Who do you think made it?” I asked.
Blair shrugged. “I tried to research it the night my mom first had the vision, but there’s nothing on it. I’m not good at book
studying though. Eden could probably find something.”
She probably could. “Are we telling Eden?” I asked. I needed to lay some ground rules with Blair, and I’m sure she didn’t
want me telling others about her mom.
Blair blew air through her teeth. “I don’t mind telling Hayes, Ariyon, Ayden, and Eden, since they were in the vision of the
Shadow Blade, and Ariyon already knows about my mom.”
I nodded. “Can I beg you not to tell anyone that I’m going to die in the Nightling war?”
Blair grinned. “Yes, you can beg me. I would love to see that.”
I reached out playfully and smacked her arm, and she laughed. Then her face went serious. “That’s a heavy secret and not
my place to share. You have my word I won’t tell anyone. Ariyon doesn’t know any of this. My mother simply told him she
couldn’t see where you were at the time or how to bring you home, only that you made it back to The Gilded City eventually.”
I wasn’t sure how much I could trust Blair just yet, but I nodded.
“And I won’t tell anyone about your mother. She’s very special and I see how her gifts could be exploited.”
Blair relaxed a little at my words. She must have felt like she had to protect her mother a lot. She rubbed her arms. “Well,
my dad will be home soon.”
“Right. I should go. This was…overwhelming but good information,” I said as I held up the drawing of the Shadow Blade.
Blair chuckled. “You should have seen my face when my mother first told me and then said I needed to help you find the
blade. I died a little inside at the thought.”
I grinned. That was the Blair I knew. I headed for the hallway and Blair walked me outside, across the large garden and
then to the front of the house where this all began.
 “See you around, I guess.” I waved at her.
She nodded. “I’ll talk to my dad. He won’t be happy about it, but I’ll try to get you back into The Academy.”
I frowned, thinking of Hayes’s dad. “He won’t hurt you, right?”
Blair’s eye bugged. “My dad? Light, no! He’s an unemotional prick sometimes, but he’d never hit me. He just hates your
mother and the entire Bane family.”
Which meant me as well. Fair enough.
I grabbed my chest in relief. “Good. Sorry. Long story.” Which I would never tell—that secret was not mine to tell.
With that, I headed for Ariyon’s, my mind swirling with a hundred different things.
 SIX

“Shadow Blade? That sounds so badass!” Eden said as she peered at the drawing.
With Blair’s permission, I’d sworn everyone to secrecy and told them all about her mother’s vision—minus the part where
I died. Yanric sat studiously on my shoulder and listened as well.
Ariyon threaded his fingers through mine as I leaned into him. “Canoes?” he asked, and we all laughed.
“She said it would make sense eventually.”
“In the meantime, I’ll do as much research as I can on this.” Eden snatched the dagger sketch up.
“I’m hungry. What are we eating?” Hayes grabbed his stomach, and Eden and I laughed. That boy was always hungry.
“I ordered—” Ayden’s announcement was cut off by a sharp knock at the door.
Hayes shot up off the couch and ran for the door, making us all laugh more. But when he opened it, a pair of guards stood
there.
Ayden and Ariyon both stood, sharing a concerned look.
“What is it?” Ariyon asked the guard as his hand went instinctively to his belt for his sword.
One of the fae guards with moonlight-blond hair bowed his head. “There’s a young man at the city gates. Says he knows
you. He looked questionable, covered in tattoos⁠—”
“Pax!” Ariyon staggered forward.
The other guard nodded. “You know him?”
Ariyon looked back at me, and I stood, knowing that was the friend he’d made while stuck in the Realm of Rebirth. When
I’d gotten Ariyon out of there, we’d both wondered what had happened to Pax.
“He looks very ill. I’m not sure you should see him until we’ve had him checked out,” the white-haired guard said.
Ariyon barked out a laugh just as I made it to his side. “I’m a healer. I can handle whatever it is.”
Ariyon and I raced outside to jump on Ember, Ariyon’s horse, just as Eden and Ayden leapt onto Ayden’s new horse,
Cinder, a gray mare.
“I’ll stay here and wait for the food!” Hayes called out as we raced to the front gates of The Gilded City.
If Pax was here and was ill, would Ariyon be able to heal him with only half of his power? I wondered, if we worked
together, could we both heal Pax? My mind raced as I tried to preemptively figure out a way to save his friend. Ariyon had
confessed to me that Pax had helped keep him sane down there. I wanted to do everything in my power to save him if he needed
it. But if he was back from the Realm of the Dead, it meant he could be a Nightling…so we had to prepare for that too.
When we reached The Gilded City gates, Ariyon slowed Ember and I scanned the darkness for his friend. Ayden and Eden
pulled up beside us.
There were half a dozen people milling about, and then I saw the lump of fabric at one of the guards’ feet. “There!” I
pointed to someone curled in a ball, covered in a green cloak, a little sliver of tattoos sticking out.
Ariyon dismounted, and I followed him.
The guard standing over Pax’s limp form held his sword out, the tip at Pax’s throat, as if he were ready to take his head off.
As we approached, the guard held out a hand to Ariyon. “Prince Madden, something is wrong with him. Don’t come any
farther.”
“Sheath your weapon. He is a trusted friend!” Ariyon snapped at the guard and then shoved him out of the way.
The guard looked shocked and staggered backward, sheathing his blade.
I dipped low on my knee to help Ariyon roll Pax over. When I did, I saw that his skin was waxy and ashen, his lips dry and
cracked. Was he…a Nightling?
Eden gasped beside me and stumbled backward into Ayden.
The moment we got close, Pax’s nostrils flared, and his eyes snapped open. I was relieved to see they were not black.
 He bit down on his bottom lip and whimpered as he gazed into Ariyon’s eyes. “Help me. The thirst is too great. I can’t…
I…” His teeth sharpened to points right before our eyes, and I gasped just as Ariyon reached out to shove me backward. Pax
lunged for me, but Ariyon wrestled him to the ground, tying his hands behind his back.
“Lock me up, brother,” Pax whimpered. “I cannot resist the smell.”
The guards and I just stared at them in shock, but Ariyon seemed to keep his cool. I could see a whole myriad of thoughts
cross his mind. The main one going through mine was, Has Pax fed on blood?
“Ayden!” Ariyon met his brother’s gaze. “Take Eden to Avis and ask for anything to help with…bloodlust.”
Ayden’s eyes flew wide at the word bloodlust, but then he grasped Eden’s upper arm and dragged her back toward Cinder.
Ariyon looked at me. “Fallon, we need to take him to Bane Manor. Your father is the only one who can care for him.”
I frowned. “What? You want to let him near my father?”
Ariyon swallowed hard but then nodded. “Your father is magicless. Pax is fighting the urge to feed and become a Nightling.
He smells magic.”
A shiver raced down my spine. Yes, of course! It made sense and yet horrified me at the same time. Pax must have been
given permission to be reborn, and right now, he was magicless. But if he fed on a fae with magic…
“My dad will help. We can lock him up in the basement.” I hated to say that about a dear friend of Ariyon’s, but he couldn’t
be around a city full of magical people right now.
Ten minutes later, we were moving Pax through the front door of Bane Manor.
“What in the Light is this?” my dad asked as Ariyon pinned Pax’s arms behind him and the tattooed teen fae struggled in his
grip.
“Long story, Dad. We need to tie him up in the basement. He’s magicless for now, but if he feeds on anyone with magic,
he’ll turn into a Nightling.”
My father’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Oh-kay…”
Pax whimpered. “Ariyon, go. You smell like dinner.”
I could see him struggling to fight the compulsion to feed that was trying to control him.
“Don’t put him in the basement,” my father said. “Tie him to my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch and care for him. Does he have
normal human strength?”
Ariyon nodded. “You could pin him down if you had to.”
It was decided then. I ran to the stables for extra leather straps, and Ariyon and my dad tied Pax’s arms to the posts on my
dad’s bed.
The second I walked into the room, Pax opened his mouth and panted. “I can’t be near her! Get her out!” he screamed, tears
leaking down his cheeks, like he was fighting within himself.
Something I knew about all too well.
My father grabbed the straps from me to tie his ankles. “Can you sleep at Eden’s or…Ariyon’s?” he asked, looking at
Ariyon. “I need to make sure she is safe from Marissa.”
I tried not to let myself blush at the thought of sleeping at his house.
Ariyon nodded. “Of course. Just until Pax gets over the thirst. He said the first month is the worst. I don’t know when they
let him out.”
Pax fell into sobs then. Like a little boy, he wept and bit the inside of his arm, drawing blood.
Ariyon staggered backward at the raw display, and my father looked at the both of us. “I’m sure it’s worse with you here.
Go.”
Ariyon nodded, taking one last look at his friend. “Sir…he’s a good guy. An honest guy who just wants to live a peaceful,
magicless life.”
My dad nodded. “Then that’s what he’ll do.” My father tightened the straps around Pax’s feet and cinched them to the bed.
“We’ll get through this,” my dad said to Pax, and I wanted to run over and hug him. But Ariyon was pulling me out the door.
“Pack a bag,” Ariyon urged me, as I fought through the shock of what I’d just seen.
I stumbled to my room, my hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush. “Will my dad be okay alone with him?”
Ariyon nodded. “You father is bigger and stronger than Pax. They are both magicless, so Pax isn’t going to be able to
overpower your father.”
Thinking of him biting into his own arm gave me the chills. I haphazardly shoved clothes into my backpack just as Yanric
flew through my cracked open window and materialized on the bed. A tiny brown paper package hung from a string at his beak.
Ariyon yelped, staggering backward a little at the sight of my bird appearing so suddenly—I was used to it.
‘Avis has something that will help him sleep it off. This is all she can offer.’ He dropped the small brown package and I
unwrapped the vial of Sleep-away. This wasn’t a normal sleep tonic. It would make him sleep twenty hours a day, only
allowing him enough time awake to eat and shower.
I gave it to Ariyon and told him the dosage and effects. He nodded and ran it to my father.
‘I’m sleeping at Ariyon and Ayden’s until Pax is better,’ I told Yanric.
 He cocked his head to the side. ‘Oh really?’ I could hear the grin in his voice.
I reached out and shoved him, knowing his mind had gone to a dirty place, but I couldn’t blame him because my mind was
going there too.
My entire life, I had had to come to terms with never being touched or kissed, never bedding with a man or having children.
All of it was off the table for me. Until I met Ariyon.
Now I was sleeping at his house, and I was kind of freaking out.
A rush of heat crept up my neck, and I swallowed hard as the nerves threatened to consume me.
“Ready?” Ariyon said from the doorway, and I jumped, grabbing my chest.
“Sorry, you scared me.”
He rushed forward to pull me into his arms. “It will be okay.”
Being enveloped in his scent, feeling his strong arms around me, only increased the heat taking hold in me.
Pulling away, he grabbed my backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
‘I’ll sleep at Eden’s tonight,’ Yanric told me with a chuckle, and then flew through the wall of my room.
After a short ride on our horses, we stabled them at Ariyon’s house and stepped inside to find Ayden and Hayes just
finishing dinner.
There were bowls of lentils and rice, and flat bread, and my stomach growled at the sight. I hadn’t eaten since the muffin
this morning.
“Everything okay?” Hayes asked.
“Is Eden home safe?” I asked.
Ayden met my gaze and nodded, his eyes going to the backpack Ariyon had over his shoulder.
“Yeah. Pax will be okay,” Ariyon told Hayes. “Fallon’s dad is going to look after him. Avis gave him a sleep tonic and
Fallon is going to stay here for a bit until Pax is feeling better. He can’t be around magic fae right now.”
Ayden looked at Hayes and they shared a look. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” Ayden asked.
Hayes nodded, smiling.
“Hey, you don’t need to do that,” I said to Ayden, embarrassed, but both boys stood.
Hayes pulled Ayden into a headlock, messing up his hair. “This little brat has been sleeping over at my house since he was
still peeing the bed.”
Ayden growled, pushing him off. “I never peed the bed! It was water.”
We all burst into laughter and said our goodbyes.
Ayden and Hayes left, and then it was just Ariyon and me.
An awkward silence descended between us as I stood there, still as a statue and filled with anxiety about sleeping at
Ariyon’s alone. This had somehow turned into a big deal, and I didn’t want it to be.
Ariyon made a plate of food and then walked over to where I stood. He handed me the plate and leaned forward to brush a
kiss on my forehead. “Relax. I don’t expect anything from you, Fallon.”
I released the breath I’d been holding and gave a nervous laugh. “I know. I just…you know, have never done…that, and I’m
not sure I’m ready.”
Ariyon peered up at me from where he was scooping rice, and I swear his eyes practically glowed in that moment. “I
assumed.” He winked. “And that’s totally okay.”
Oh, that wink did things to my insides, and so did his non-pressuring way of talking about this really big thing.
I appreciated that we were talking about it without really talking about it. It made it easier for me. I sat down at the table
next to him.
“I never thought I would have the chance.” I took a bite of lentils and moaned when the clove and cinnamon hit my tongue.
The food was so good.
Ariyon took a long look at me. “That’s actually really sad, that you never allowed yourself to even hope for something as
simple as a kiss.”
I frowned. “Okay, I’m pathetic. Get over it.” I lightly shoved him.
But his face was serious, his hand stilling over his food. “You’re not pathetic. You’re the strongest person I know. To be
honest, if I had to live with your curse, I would have offed myself years ago.”
I gasped. “Ariyon, don’t say that.”
He shrugged. “I’m serious, I don’t think you realize how amazing and resilient you are.” He reached out and squeezed my
arm. “Are you made of steel inside because you’re that strong?”
I burst into laughter. “Was that a pickup line? Because as cheesy as it was, it kind of worked.”
Ariyon made a fist and pumped it into the air. “Yes.”
Again, he made me laugh, something I hadn’t been sure I would be able to do ever again when I was lost to the darkness.
I took a sip of water and reached out to stroke the top of his hand that no longer held the Maven mark. The proof of how
deep his love for me went was marked on both of our hands.
 “You know, my friend Sorrel told me there are other things you can do besides bedding a man,” I confessed, and Ariyon’s
fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
He swallowed hard, setting the fork down on his plate as he gazed at me with molten silver eyes. “There are.” His voice
was husky, and I no longer had an appetite for food.
“Can you show me what they are?” I asked boldly.
Ariyon stood, facing me, and held out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up until I was standing. Without a word, he
walked me back to his room. I barely noticed the furniture until the door was closed behind us and we were standing at the foot
of his bed.
“Fallon,” he said, brushing my hair away from my face, and leaned down to kiss my neck.
I mumbled and he pulled back to peer into my eyes.
“Every person who has ever touched you has caused you pain, and so as the only one in the realm who does not set off your
curse, I feel it’s my duty to show you what real pleasure feels like.”
I grinned at the promise of that. “Hmmm…pleasure? What’s that?”
Ariyon smirked. Reaching up, he slowly pulled the strings on my cloak, and it fell to the floor. My heart ratcheted up so
quickly that I could feel it in my throat. Ariyon’s fingers gently stroked my collarbone as he opened each button of my shirt.
Little tendrils of desire raced along my skin with each touch, and the heat building inside of my core reached critical mass with
each article of clothing lost. Suddenly I was standing before Ariyon in my underwear and he was looking down at me with his
fingertips at the edge of my bra strap.
“May I?” he asked, but there was a begging in his tone that nearly undid me right there.
“You may.” The words barely left my lips before he laid me back on the bed and indeed showed me what real pleasure
from touch felt like.

SLEEPING all night wrapped in Ariyon’s arms might have been the best time of my life. I was so used to constantly avoiding
touch—an exhausting game to play daily—that being with Ariyon, leaning into his warm skin, made me feel whole in a way I’d
never thought possible.
In the morning, I made us both breakfast. To be honest, neither Ariyon nor Ayden cooked very well. After eating, Ariyon left
for The Academy, and I grabbed Ranger to check on my dad and Pax. I didn’t go into the house for fear of tempting Pax but
stood in the doorway and spoke to my father.
He had bags under his eyes as he relayed that the night had gone well and he’d gotten leave from work to take care of
Ariyon’s friend. After that, I went to the new West Side Ice Cream Clinic. Avis was there and smiled hugely when I stepped
inside. My throat clogged with emotion as I saw that Mable’s parents’ house—the house my father and I had lived in when
we’d first come to the city—had been completely transformed into a place of healing. A young Academy healing student sat
with a woman on a bench, asking her about her symptoms. The living room was now a waiting room. The kitchen had been
completely gutted and now held all of the tinctures and remedies on wall-to-wall shelves. And of course, on the small little
counter was an ice chest where the ice cream waited for customers. In the back, my father’s and my old rooms had been turned
into exam rooms.
“It’s amazing.” I cleared my throat to keep from being overcome by emotion.
Avis smiled. “Well, dear, this is mostly all because of you.”
I waved her off. “No way. It was your idea.”
“Because of you,” she insisted.
“Where do you need me?”
Avis nodded and tapped the top of my gloved hand that held the Maven mark. “Let’s see if you have enough healing magic
to imbue some herbs, shall we?”
I followed her behind the shop counter and deeper into what used to be the kitchen, to where she had a mortar and pestle of
herbs she had been grinding.
Rosemary and lavender filled the air, and I immediately felt relaxed.
Over the next hour or so, under Avis’s tutelage, I imbued the herbs with certain healing frequencies, as she taught me.
Getting direct one-on-one tutoring from Avis was way better than any class I’d taken at The Academy anyway, though I would
have been lying if I’d said I didn’t miss my time there. I even missed Master Knight and how hard she was on me because,
under her guidance, there had been growth.
When school was out, since I’d helped almost all day at the West Side Ice Cream Clinic, I went across the street and was
waiting for Eden in front of her door when she got home. I wanted to tell her about my steamy make-out session with Ariyon
last night. But when my redheaded bestie turned the corner, I saw that tears were falling down her cheeks.
 I stood up quickly and ran to her. “Give me a name and I’ll make them wish they were never born,” I growled.
Yanric wasn’t here to go psycho on Eden’s behalf—he was with my father—so I would have to. Was it Hayes again? Or
Ayden this time?
She gave me a sad smile, wiping the tears off her cheeks and blinking rapidly. “It’s fine.” She ignored my threat and walked
past me.
“Whoa, hey, hey, slow down.” I pulled on her arm, and she spun to face me and then burst into sobs.
“I just saw my father at school. He and his wife had another baby. A daughter. I know things didn’t work out with my mom,
but…why doesn’t he want me?” she managed between tears.
My heart shredded at her words, and I hated my curse in that moment. I hated Solana too for giving it to me. To not be able
to hold my friend in this moment caused me more pain than touching ever would.
“E,” I whimpered, and reached around to grasp her covered shoulders awkwardly in a lame half hug. “I’m so damn sorry.
He’s an idiot because you’re amazing and I can’t fathom anyone not wanting you.”
She looked over at me. “Ayden didn’t either. Maybe I’m defective.”
My mouth popped open at her confession. “Defective? You’re the smartest woman I know, you have crazy powers that will
one day make you the most valuable person in the queen’s army, and you’re insanely pretty. Red hair and green eyes? I mean, is
there a better combo?” I told her.
She smiled a little then. “Oh, Fallon, I’m so grateful for you.” She squeezed my hands and then wiped her eyes. “Tell me
something else, anything to get my mind off of this,” Eden begged.
I cleared my throat. “I slept in Ariyon’s bed last night.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she looked back at her house as if waiting for her mom to come out. “I need to know
everything.” She hooked her arm through mine and we went for a walk, talking and laughing and turning red as we did.
Once I finished with most of the details, I looked at Eden. “I never thought I would have the chance to…” I left it unsaid.
“Bed a sexy prince?” she finished. “Me neither. I’ll probably lose my purity to Buckley.”
I snort-laughed. Maddox Buckley was a sweet but socially awkward guy at school who picked his nose a lot and had really
bad breath.
“What about Hayes?” I asked with one eyebrow raised. They had seemed flirty lately.
Eden smiled a little. “Can I forgive him for dumping me for Blair?”
I shrugged. “I could.”
“Well, you’re better than me. Besides, he’s given no indication that he’s still into me.”
I dropped it then, not wanting to upset her further.
“You want the truth?” Eden asked.
I nodded. “Always.”
She walked over to the little red bench at the community park and sighed as she took a seat. “I’ve always wanted to wait
until I was married. With what happened to my mom…and the guy just leaving her on her own to figure it out…I’d rather wait
until I know I am with my person, and if a kid accidently happens, my guy will stick around.”
I nodded. It was an incredibly mature thing to say. I sat down next to her. “I like that. I guess I never even thought of getting
married.”
Not that it would matter for me. Ariyon didn’t want marriage or kids, and I was going to die soon anyway. There was no
point in dreaming up things I would never have.
We sat in silence then for a long while, both lost in our thoughts.
Finally, Eden gave a contented sigh. “You know what? If Jameson Beckett wants to pretend I don’t exist, then fine. His loss.
And I hope he’s a great dad to his other daughters. I wish them no ill will.” Eden tipped her head high, and I noticed she was
back to calling him “Jameson” and not “my father.”
The hurt in her voice told me she was totally lying to herself, but I also understood that. Sometimes we had to lie to
ourselves in order to survive. I was doing it too, saying I was okay with dying soon so long as I saved everyone in The Gilded
City. Truth be told, if I thought about it too long, I would give everyone up for another few years with my dad and Ariyon and
Eden.
Reaching out, I grasped her hand and squeezed. “We just need to commence with the plan to get our parents married, and
then you’ll have a good dad and I’ll have a normal mom.”
Eden barked out a laugh. “Okay, to be real, I totally saw them flirting the other day.”
I spun to face her. “Yes. Tell me more.”
A throat cleared beside us, and I turned to see Queen Solana standing with a few of her Royal Guard.
I dropped Eden’s hand like a hot stone and stood protectively in front of her. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
Solana didn’t come to the West Side often, and she never fetched me in person unless it was serious.
She waved me off as if I was overreacting. “Nothing. I was visiting Avis and her new ice cream shop.” She put a skeptical
inflection on the words ice cream. “And I saw you walking. Thought I would deliver the good news in person.”
 “What good news?” Eden said as she stood and curtsied. “My queen.”
Solana gave her a slight nod and then looked to me. “Ethan Crawford has requested that I allow you back into The
Academy under the grounds that you will not practice practical applications of your magic around other students. I’ve
approved his request.”
Eden squealed and jumped up and down, and I gave her a smile. Blair had spoken to her dad, and it worked! I’d have to
thank her.
“I appreciate you telling me,” I told Queen Solana.
She raised one eyebrow and stepped closer. “How exactly did you get Ethan Crawford to change his mind?”
“Blair and I are…accomplices for the greater good.” We weren’t true friends and probably never would be, so it was the
best terminology I could come up with.
That was good enough for Solana. With a nod and a wave, she spun and walked away.
Eden turned to me. “Holy fae, you’re back at The Academy.”
I gave my friend a small smile. It was good news, so I couldn’t explain why the knot formed in my stomach. Maybe because
it also meant that Blair’s mother’s vision was coming true.
 SEVEN

Being back at The Academy with everyone felt amazing. Well, most of the students hugged the walls in fear when I passed, but
sitting at lunch with Eden while snuggled up to Ariyon was amazing. Hearing Ayden and Hayes tell funny stories while I split a
pizza with Eden was double amazing. Watching Yanric threaten to poop on anyone who shot me a dirty look felt good too.
Things felt normal again, and normalcy was something I craved. I was sitting in on lectures and then doing practicals with
Master Clarke and Master Knight in private for now.
My father was taking care of Pax and said he was getting stronger and was almost in the clear. He had survived the
agonizing thirst on his own for two weeks. Apparently after Ariyon had left the Realm of Rebirth, they had made him fight all
over again to prove he was strong enough and worthy enough to be given the chance.
I was spending a few nights at Ariyon’s and then a few nights at Eden’s to mix it up.
‘Library meeting STAT,’ Yanric announced as I left a practical with Master Clarke. My birth father had fallen easily back
into his role as my teacher.
‘Tell Eden I’ll be right there,’ I replied, and Yanric took off, a streak of black feathers racing through the courtyard to the
library.

AN HOUR LATER, I hovered over Eden’s shoulder, reading a line in an old book, when the sound of stomping feet reached
my ears. I looked up from the table to see a female Royal Guard.
She was panting like she had run here. “Fallon Bane, Queen Solana requires your presence in the War Room.”
War room?
Eden stood and protectively moved in front of me. “What’s this about?” she asked.
The guard raised a hand to her. “Fallon is not in trouble. Queen Solana only seeks her council on an important matter that
has recently come to light.”
I sidestepped Eden and squeezed her hand. I think we were all paranoid the queen would one day cage me. “Sounds
serious. I should go. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay,” I told her.
Her brow creased, but she nodded and relaxed. I jogged over to the guard but she stopped me. “Where is the Order of the
Flame? Queen Solana said to wear it.”
My eyebrows rose slightly but I simply nodded, reaching into my backpack. I wasn’t keen on wearing it around town like
some bragging point, even if it did let people know that Solana had accepted me back into her inner circle. So I kept it shoved
at the bottom of my bag in case I needed it to prove I wasn’t some enemy of the crown.
Fastening the giant golden broach on my chest, I was ready. The guard stared at the broach for a moment, as if lost in envy,
and then nodded.
I followed her out to the school stables and mounted Ranger quickly. Then I was rushed to a back entrance of the palace
and into a secret underground tunnel. For a second, I questioned whether or not this guard had lied and was going to kill me and
bury my body where no one would find it. But then I saw a light at the end of the tunnel, and I heard Queen Solana’s voice
trickle into the stone-covered passageway.
We came upon a large oak door that was cracked open.
“We must act quickly,” Queen Solana could be heard saying, as the guard who had escorted me stepped into the room and
bowed to her.
“Miss Fallon Bane.”
 I peered around the room, surprised to see Ariyon and Ayden both at their aunt’s side and covered head to toe in armor.
There were half a dozen other fae I didn’t know, but they looked like some sort of esteemed council. Four of them were men
and two were older women with sprinkles of gray in their hair. Their collective gazes were fastened on me as I entered the
room.
Their eyes fell to the Order of the Flame on my chest, and one of them groaned.
“Was inviting her wise my queen?” one of the older males said.
Queen Solana did her signature one-eyebrow raise. “Inviting the person who is the reason we have this information in the
first place? The girl who saved my life twice and brought my heir back from certain death? The daughter of the deranged
lunatic who seeks to hunt us all down and yet is still on our side? Yes. I feel it is very wise.”
My throat tightened at her show of loyalty, and I had to clear it to keep the emotion from my voice. Curtseying slightly, I
peered up at Queen Solana. “You called for me?”
Solana nodded. “That listening device you gave me has been helpful in gleaning information about a series of upcoming
attacks.”
My heart thumped in my chest as I stepped closer. “When?”
Solana pointed to a large circular table that had a giant piece of paper on it with dates scrolled on it and a list of areas in
the city.
The next attack was going to be on the East Side. They were going to target the very castle we stood in, and it was dated in
a just a few weeks’ time.
Even more dates were scrawled, in five or six days increments, with the words West Side Clinic, Academy, then finally the
East Side shops.
“She’s poking for weakness in our defenses,” Solana growled. “With these small, targeted attacks, they will collect the
information they need for the next big attack—the final battle.” She tapped on the date of the attack on the East Side shops.
Summer Solstice.
Of course, when everyone was outside in the sun, enjoying the merriment, Marissa would slip in and do maximum damage.
It made me sick.
“You should evacuate the castle. You can sleep in an undisclosed location for the next two weeks in case they change the
date,” one of the queen’s female advisors said.
Solana nodded. “But what about the other dates? The West Side clinic, The Academy, the East Side shops? How do you
evacuate that many people without looking suspicious? And where do you put them? If Marissa knows what we are doing, she
will figure out that we are listening somehow and change plans. I don’t want to tip her off.”
Ariyon rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Do we think Marissa has spies in the city?”
Solana bristled. “The thought horrifies me, but it has crossed my mind.”
Spies inside the city? That was a shocking thought and one that I had never considered before, yet it made perfect sense.
“Then, to the public, this all needs to seem normal. Until the Summer Solstice. There will be no getting around it when we
tell our people they cannot celebrate,” Ariyon said.
The female fae who had suggested Solana sleep elsewhere for the next few weeks nodded. “Perfect. The story will be that
the queen was not in residence at the time of the attack because she was staying with her dear nephews.” She pointed to Ariyon
and Ayden.
They nodded as if they would corroborate the story, though I doubted Solana was going to divulge where she would
actually sleep.
Solana tapped the date of the next attack on the paper. “What about the West Side Clinic? It’s always overrun. What excuse
do we have for emptying it the day before the attack that our alleged spy might believe?”
“Refurbishment!” I yelled.
Everyone looked at me confusedly, and I cleared my throat. “The West Side Clinic can be closed for refurbishment. The
sick can go to the hospital on the East Side instead.”
Queen Solana looked slightly uncomfortable at the thought of her East Side being overrun with sick Westies, but she
nodded.
“But you don’t actually expect me to pay for an expensive refurbishment, do you?” Queen Solana grasped her chest and
stared at me.
I gave her a sheepish smile. “No, my queen. Perhaps you could have your maid staff do a deep cleaning instead?”
She nodded as if that would be satisfactory. Light forbid she actually made the place nicer.
We decided to close the East Side shops on the day of the planned attack as a “labor gratitude day” and give everyone the
day off. These announcements would go out the day before and the city would quietly lock down, so no spies could go in or
out. The magical barrier the queen had ordered would alert us to any Nightlings coming through. Queen Solana was going to do
everything she could to minimize loss.
“Now what do we do about The Academy?” one of the male advisors added, pointing to its date on the list. “We cannot tell
the children and staff to close the school without divulging the fact that we have insider information.”
“I will think up something for The Academy. I just need a little time,” Solana said, chewing on her lip as if deep in thought.
“And how do we protect the people during the big one at Summer Solstice?” Ayden asked her. “If that’s the day Marissa
plans to bring a full-scale war to the city, we should evacuate everyone weeks prior.”
Solana gave her nephew a sweet smile. “A thoughtful idea which would either get all of our people killed in transit or
bring war to whatever city we fled to. No, we must stand our ground and defeat Marissa once and for all. We’ve been
retrofitting many of the basements on the East Side to become bunkers. That will protect most of our people on the day of the
big attack.”
I tried not to let the anger rise up inside of me. “Most? And what about the West Siders who don’t have fancy reinforced
bunkers?”
Queen Solana cleared her throat. “We are still trying to work that out. As you know, the West Side homes were built
without basements, and there isn’t one building large enough to fit everyone.”
Mable, Eden, all of the lovely people of the West Side were just going to be forgotten about. “They can stay at Bane
Manor,” I said, tipping my chin high. This was it. This was why Lorraine saw me opening a portal to bring people to Bane
Manor. It was because the queen had no provision for the Westies, and I’d die before I let them be a collateral loss of war.
The fae advisors she had in attendance all wore expressions that looked as if they’d smelled something funny.
“We have a basement, and we also have plenty of rooms for people to sleep in. If you start now, you could reinforce the
entire property, and everyone could move in a few days prior,” I said.
Before I even finished my sentence, Ariyon nodded and spoke up. “That’s a great idea.”
Solana pursed her lips. “We need to be careful with our resources. Most of Bane Manor is still in disarray, and the rooms
would have to be cleaned up and readied. To magically reinforce such a large building from top to bottom would be quite the
undertaking,” Queen Solana said, and the others nodded their heads.
I was about to retort when Ariyon stepped away from his aunt’s side and turned to face her head-on. “People will speak of
this war for generations and the lengths you went to in order to keep your people safe. What kind of stories do you want them to
tell about you, Auntie? That you couldn’t afford to save the poor people?” There was hurt and disgust in his tone, and I couldn’t
help but feel pride.
Solana gasped at Ariyon’s blunt words, and I had to fight to keep the smile off my face.
“Of course not. We will find the means.” Her cheeks reddened and I wanted to walk over to Ariyon right then and kiss him.
“Then it’s settled.” Ayden, ever the peacemaker, pivoted the conversation.
I raised my hand, feeling slightly stupid and schoolgirlish, but Solana pointed to me. “You know I have a map that leads to
her base of operations. We could strike her first, diminish her numbers? Though she did admit they spend most of their time in
shadow form, so I’m not sure how much could be done.”
Solana nodded. “Get me the map, just in case. At the very least, I can post scouts in the woods around it. But you’re right—
Nightlings in their shadow form are untouchable to us.”
But not to me. My undying fire, and now the Shadow Blade, whenever I got that, could take care of all of them.
“Well, if that’s all?” She looked to her advisors.
They nodded and then Solana peered in my direction.
I swallowed hard. “I have more to say to the queen.” I met the gazes of her advisors. “In private, with only Ariyon and
Ayden.”
I winced at the growls that came from the fae around me, but Solana simply snapped her fingers and they were gone, the
door shut behind them.
Ariyon swooped to my side, taking my hand in his, something that made his aunt’s nostrils flare, but she said nothing.
Ayden also stepped beside me and peered down at me. “What’s up? You got a secret evil plan we don’t know about?”
I gave a nervous laugh and then looked at Queen Solana. “I don’t know those people that were just in here, but if you really
fear someone within these walls is feeding information to Marissa, I wouldn’t tell them where you will be sleeping the night of
the planned attack on the castle in a few weeks’ time.”
Queen Solana’s mouth popped open. “What are you saying, Fallon? That one of my own advisors would turn on me?”
I swallowed hard. “No. I mean, I don’t know. Does it hurt to be super paranoid?”
She cleared her throat and nodded. “I suppose it doesn’t. Is that all?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I have the Undying Fire.” I raised Ariyon’s hand threaded into mine. “Well, we both do now. Let us help
take some of the bastards out when they come for our people.”
Ariyon grinned next to me. “Yes.”
Solana sighed, rubbing her temples. “You two are lovesick.”
Lovesick. I had never heard the term, but it made me laugh.
“And what if you both die trying to help?” Solana challenged.
I rested my other hand on Ayden’s shoulder. “Then you still have one heir.”
 Ayden gasped. “You want me to sit out on the fighting?” He looked aghast.
Ariyon dropped my hand and faced his brother. “I’ve done it my whole life. Now that I have battle magic, you can be the
precious heir who hides in secret.”
“Okay, boys, let’s not argue.” Solana intervened, and I got to see her in a rare auntie mode. She peered at Ariyon and me
quizzically. “Can you both conjure the purple flame?”
I held out my hand and pulled a three-inch-high display of purple Undying Fire into my palm to show her. Ariyon did the
same, as if looking bored.
Solana picked at her fingernails. “I think it’s a good idea. Ayden, you will stay at a secret underground location on the day
of the attacks.”
Ayden groaned and shot me a glare.
I shrugged my shoulders as if to say I was sorry.
“They can cull the Nightling population and save lives in the process,” Queen Solana told Ayden.
Ariyon wrapped an arm around his brother. “Sorry, Bro.”
Ayden simply crossed his arms and sulked. I knew he was used to being the warrior and wanted the glory in battle, but this
would be safe for him. The truth of the matter was, Ariyon and I were the only ones with the power to actually kill the
Nightlings in their shadow form, which made us invaluable. We both had a ticking clock on our life spans as well, me with the
prophesies and Ariyon with his Maven gift. It was better this way—we could let Ayden live a long and happy life as king of his
people one day.
“Now, what is this I hear about a blood-lusting Nightling staying in my city?” Queen Solana asked, and Ariyon and I shared
a look.
Did we forget to tell her about that? Whoops.
 EIGHT

The first in a series of attacks that the Nightlings were going to bring to The Gilded City was tomorrow night. If the information
Queen Solana received through the crystal shell was correct, then her palace would be attacked. The plan was for the Queen to
slip out early tonight and sleep in an undisclosed location. Then tomorrow, Ariyon and I would skip school and wait in the
woods outside the queen’s palace for the attack, taking out as many Nightlings as we could in the process.
My father had announced that Pax was feeling cured of the bloodlust and was ready to reenter society. So I was moving
back in tonight to test out his theory. I wouldn’t have minded a few more nights with Ariyon or a couple more sleepovers with
Eden though.
“Bye, E!” I waved to my bestie as she broke off to walk home and I careened Ranger toward Bane manner. We’d just had a
research session in the library, looking for any information about the Shadow Blade, to no avail, and it was getting to be
dinnertime, the sun setting in the sky above.
She waved me off with a cheery smile and I flicked my gaze skyward to see Yanric circling overhead.
‘Did you know that ravens mate for life?’ he asked me randomly.
I snorted. ‘Did you meet someone? Is there something you want to tell me?’
He ignored my gibe. ‘No, I was just thinking that you and Ariyon remind me a lot of a mated raven pair. I don’t think this
is young love that will fade with time. I think you are a mated pair, soul mates.’ He landed on Ranger’s neck and peered up
at me.
My heart hammered in my chest at his topic of conversation. ‘Why are you randomly talking about this?’
He cocked his little, black feathered head to the side. ‘Because I don’t think it’s fair that you keep your impending death
from him.’
I sucked in a breath. ‘Yan, you promised.’
He nodded. ‘And I will keep my promise, but I’m trying to encourage you to tell him. There might be things he wants to
say before. He needs to prepare his heart or it will break him.’
I shook my head, trying to push down the grief that threatened to swell up inside of me. ‘I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want him
to pity me. I’ve been pitied my entire life and I don’t want our last days marred by a death cloud that follows me around.’
A twig snapped to the left, deep in the woods, and I pulled a ball of fire into my palm. “Who’s there?” I called, ready to
throw the fire.
“Relax.” Queen Solana’s voice came from the darkness and then she and her horse emerged from the trees. She was alone,
no guards, a sight I rarely saw. She wore a large cloak with a deep hood that covered most of her face as she pulled her horse
up alongside Ranger.
I dissipated the fire and let out the breath I’d been holding. “You scared me. What are you doing out here alone? Shouldn’t
you be going underground?” I whispered.
Solana peered at me. “You got in my head, making me think that even my most loyal advisors could be selling secrets to
Marissa for a chance to rule at her side if she becomes the next queen.”
I swallowed hard. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean⁠—”
“It was good advice. And since my advisors know the location of every reinforced bunker in this city, I have decided to
stay in the last place anyone would ever think to look for me.”
I frowned. “The West Side?”
She shot me a glare. “Bane Manor.”
Oh. Oh.
She wanted to stay at my house. With my magicless father and a Reborn barely out of bloodlust. Though I suppose Pax was
just a magicless too now. And good for him. He had fought it and won.
 “We’d be honored,” I said, and she gave me a little smirk that told me she knew I was just being polite.
“But fair warning we still have Ariyon’s friend staying there, though he’s over the bloodlust.”
“I can handle him.” She waved me off as if it were ridiculous to think otherwise.
When we got to the manor, we stabled our horses at the barn and then I led the Queen of The Gilded City up to my door
with her overnight bag slung on her shoulder.
This is so weird.
Before I even reached the handle, my dad threw the door open wide. “Hey, kiddo, I missed y—” He stopped short when he
saw the queen. Unsure what to do, he bowed and curtsied at the same time which made the corners of Queen Solana’s mouth
quirk.
“Uhh, Your Highness, er, Majesty?” He mumbled. “I’m honored to meet you.”
“She’s staying the night if that’s okay? It’s a long story.” I told my dad.
He motioned to the open door without question. “Of course.”
That was one of the many things I loved about my father: he was always willing to help someone in need and didn’t ask too
many questions about it. He trusted me and my assessment of things.
Yanric flew from my shoulder and through the house, and we stepped inside. Queen Solana flared her nostrils, inhaling.
“Something smells nice.”
My father swallowed hard. “Just a sweet potato pie. You’re probably used to something much fancier. I let the staff go for
the night.”
“Sweet potato pie sounds lovely.” She set her bag down and I picked it up.
“I’ll put this in your room.”
My dad’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure we have a room nice enough⁠—”
“Oh, stop fussing over me. I’ve slept in tents in the woods on camp-outs with my family growing up. How much worse can
it be?” Queen Solana told him.
My dad and I shared a look, fighting laughter that the queen had just compared our guest room to sleeping in a tent.
“Right.” I left and went down the hall to one of the guest rooms we’d put together, but when I saw Pax’s stuff, I winced.
Crap. I’d forgotten he was here briefly and I didn’t want him to feel out of place. Pivoting to my room, I set her bag on my
freshly made—thanks to Daniella—bed and pulled a few personal items from my dresser. I could sleep in my dad’s room. It
was kind of ironic that I was having trouble finding a room for her, since this house had dozens of them. But they were covered
in cobwebs or stale bedding that smelled and that wouldn’t work for a queen. There was always the library room that Eden and
the boys had slept in when I was gone, but I didn’t want to sleep alone in that big old room.
After setting my stuff in my dad’s room, I went to the kitchen where I found Queen Solana sitting across from Pax and eating
sweet potato pie with shredded pork.
“This is quite delicious,” she remarked with surprise in her voice. “Have you ever thought about applying to be on my
cooking staff?” Solana asked my father, who stood at the stove.
He froze at her words and turned to her with wide eyes. “I… No, I hadn’t thought of that.”
She nodded. “You should.”
I smiled at my father and the high praise. He was a tall and strong man, so he’d always been seen to be fit as a laborer, but I
knew his heart was with cooking and baking.
Pax was quietly watching the queen. His arms were littered with tattoos and his hair fell in a swoop across his forehead,
but he looked healthy. His cheeks were pink, his eyes lacking any remnant of the black Nightling iris. “Is it true you can
summon sunlight?” he asked.
Queen Solana raised one eyebrow at him. “Why? Feeling thirsty?” She smiled so he would know it was a joke.
I burst out into laughter, followed by my father and then Pax. But the smile dropped slightly from his expression. “No,
actually. I don’t smell magic anymore. It’s gone.” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, and I felt a little bad for him.
“Must be hard to go from being a powerful fae to magicless,” I said.
He nodded. “But not really because I’d rather go a lifetime without magic than spend eternity in the Bottomless Pit.”
Chills rushed across my arms at his words. Wise words. And at his great self-restraint and sacrifice. It also made me a
little sick to think of where my own life was headed. I’d given up my second life to save Ariyon and so when I died…
I shook my head. I couldn’t think about it.
“I admire you,” I told him.
He gave me a sheepish smile.
“What will you do now?” Solana asked him, seeming genuinely interested.
He sighed just as my father placed a plate before me. “I have no idea. I don’t have many talents or skills other than stealing
and fighting. No one wants to employ me for that.” He chuckled.
Queen Solana shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I have an entire staff that I employ specifically for their skills in
combat and cunning.”
 He sat a little straighter, reaching up to smooth his hair as if he were suddenly on a job interview.
The conversation changed, but I saw what Queen Solana had done. She’d given Pax hope; she’d told him that he had worth,
and I knew right then that if fighting in battle for this woman meant dying, I would do it. Because at her core, she really did care
about people and I’d grown to love her as if she were my own aunt—the tough aunt that smacked you upside the head when you
pissed her off but then held you tightly when she thought she lost you in a crowd of people.
That night, I tucked into my father’s bed while he made a place on the couch beside the fire. The risk of rolling into him at
night and touching was too great to share a bed and he insisted he take the couch.
“So are you going to tell me why the queen needs to sleep in the last place I’m sure she wants to be?” my dad asked.
I sighed. “Marissa is planning an attack on the palace tomorrow. But you can’t tell a soul that Queen Solana is here. It
should only be for a few nights.”
My dad’s eyes went wide but he nodded. “Tomorrow while I’m at work, I’ll have Pax and Daniella start readying some of
the other rooms. While you were gone, it was nice to have all the kids here for company. I’d like Pax to stay on, if that’s okay
with you?” He smiled expectantly at me and my heart warmed.
I returned his smile. “Of course it’s okay. You would have been such a great dad to, like, six kids.”
He laughed. “Sometimes I feel like I can barely manage the one I got. She’s pretty wild.”
I threw the pillow across the room at him and he caught it with ease, laughing.
Light knew I loved this man. I felt so incredibly blessed to have even one parent always rooting for me. I couldn’t imagine
if I’d had two.
“Love you, Dad.”
“You too, kiddo.” He winked and turned out the light.

I WAS awoken by a loud boom that I couldn’t place.

“What was that?” I sat up, and my dad was already halfway across the room.
“An explosion,” he said.
It didn’t sound close, like not in the house, but it was hard to say, since I had been sleeping. It was about this time that I
remembered Queen Solana was staying here and I leapt from bed and tore after my dad.
Yanric materialized through the wall and landed on my shoulder. ‘Nightlings attacked the castle a night early,’ he stated.
Solana burst into the foyer where my father and I now stood. She was in her nightgown with her golden hair splayed out
across her shoulders and she held glowing sunlight orbs in her palms as if ready to fight.
“Yanric said the Nightlings attacked early.”
Panic washed over her face. “My staff… They were going to leave in the morning.”
I pulled purple fire into my palms. “Let’s go get them.”
Without a word, she nodded and even though neither of us was dressed for battle, we ran for the front door. Solana threw it
open and burst outside, but my father stopped me.
“Wait, you can’t just run into battle, honey,” my dad called after me. “You could be hurt.”
I spun to face him. “Dad, I love you, but you have no idea how powerful I am. I could burn a man alive with my mind or
strangle him with shadows. I will be fine.”
The color leached from his face and he swallowed hard.
Pax came into the entry hall then and my dad just nodded to me to get going.
I took off running out the open front door, and by the time I got to the stables, Queen Solana had already saddled her horse
and thrown a blanket over it for me to keep my ankles from hitting the animal’s skin. There was no time to saddle Ranger too,
so I just got on Queen Solana’s mare behind her and prayed for the best.
We remarkably made it to the edge of the castle woods without touching. There were screams, smoke, and fire.
“We split up. You take out as many Nightlings as you can. I’m going for Marissa,” she growled.
I didn’t want to argue with the queen and I knew from her memories she’d shared with me that she could hold her own.
Slipping off the mare, I jogged deeper into the woods surrounding the castle, looking for Nightlings.
Yanric flew overhead as I dipped down low and pulled for my magic. Although I was no longer going mad with darkness, I
didn’t feel like I had any less of my powers; they just weren’t overwhelming me. My time training with Master Clarke in the
woods to control the magic, though it had only awakened more power in me at the time, I now realized, without the darkness
encroaching on my consciousness, had honed my gifts. I’d been waiting for the day that I could use them against the Nightlings,
especially after what they helped Marissa do to me the last time I saw them. I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to think I
could walk into the belly of the beast and come out unscathed.
‘Incoming!’ Yanric announced.
 I squinted to sharpen my vision in the dark just as two shadows zoomed past me. With a flick of my wrist I sent a stream of
Undying Fire at the black shadows, and they collided. A shriek ripped through the forest as the shadows manifested into two
fae, who tangled together as they fell on the ground, burning alive.
I wanted them dead so they couldn’t hurt anyone else but I wasn’t a monster. I didn’t see the point of making anyone suffer.
Pulling from the shadows around me as I’d practiced so many times with Master Clarke, I solidified my powers into a sharp
blade and pushed it through the air, cutting their heads clean off.
‘Behind!’ Yanric yelled.
I spun, but it was too late. A male fae charged at me, grabbing me by the bare wrists and tackling me to the ground. The
skin-to-skin contact caused my curse to ignite and I cried out in pain as a spasm of agony ripped through me. But at the same
time, the Maven healer mark spun on my hand and began to chase away the stinging.
I prepared to deal the fae a fatal blow when something clamped down on my left forearm and a pinch of pain tore the skin. I
gasped in shock, my eyes flicking to see a silver metal cuff had been attached to me. Yanric dive-bombed from the sky and
pecked furiously at the Nightling’s face, tearing out chunks of skin as my heart beat frantically in my chest.
“What is this?” I asked him, trying to pull it off with my other hand as the dude rolled off of me, swatting Yanric out of the
sky. My familiar poofed to shadow, and the fae stood, grinning down at me.
“Marissa says thank you for the blood donation.” Then he transformed into a ball of smoke and was gone.
My hands shook as I peered down at the six-inch-wide silver cuff on my arm.
Yanric landed before me on the moss-covered forest and looked up at me with wide, black eyes.
“It hurts,” I said, panicked by the comment the Nightling had made about the blood donation. What did that mean?
I reached with the fingers on my right hand and probed the cuff for a seam or lever, but it was one solid piece. The moment
it had closed around my wrist, it had sealed somehow and now it felt like something sharp was biting into my skin. Panic filled
me, causing my breath to come out in short rasps as I dug my fingernails under the edge of the cuff and tried to pry it up. Pain,
like being cut with glass, sliced through my arm and I let out a scream.
“I can’t get it off.” I looked to Yan.
The sounds of fighting off in the distance pulled my attention.
‘Can you still use your magic?’ Yanric asked.
I swallowed hard, pulling for my dark powers and aiming the cuffed hand at a tree before blasting it with purple fire.
‘Everything else seems normal.’
He took flight and circled overhead. ‘Then we rejoin the fight and figure out what this is later.’
My skin burned with the aftereffects of the curse, but Ariyon’s healer magic was soothing it to a manageable amount.
‘Okay. Good idea.’ I was completely freaked out but now was not the time.
‘I see Ariyon up ahead. He’s joined the fight!’ Yanric told me as I ran to follow him through the woods.
My feet pounded the ground, snapping twigs as I pumped my legs. Running as fast as I could, I broke into a clearing just in
front of the queen’s castle.
A gasp ripped from my throat when I saw that the entrance had been blown out and leveled. A few bodies lay among the
rubble.
Ariyon and over two dozen Royal Guards were fighting in front of the castle, keeping the Nightlings from entering.
I ran up behind three Nightlings who were hurling fire at the guards and quickly killed them. Ariyon’s head snapped in my
direction and he gave me a nod.
“Where is the queen?” I asked.
Ariyon flicked his wrist and sent a stream of purple fire at the shadow form of a Nightling. “Inside, tending to her staff.”
His eyes fell on my wrist. “What’s that?”
I swallowed hard. “Not really sure.”
More of the Royal Guard arrived, and with Ariyon’s and my help, we fought off the Nightlings easily. Marissa was
nowhere to be seen, which made me more nervous than if she were here.
Within thirty minutes, we had driven off the Nightlings and were now at the front gates with the queen inspecting the
damage they had done.
“They brought the shield down?” Queen Solana asked. She was still in her robe but had braided her hair down her back.
The end of her robe was soaked with blood and soot but she didn’t seem to care about her appearance. “There was no alarm.
That should be impossible.”
One of her guards who was nursing a bleeding wound on his rib cage shook his head. “It was tampered with from the
inside. I was knocked out cold, and when I woke up, the shield was down and the gates were busted open.”
A few of us gasped.
The inside-traitor theory was real.
Solana flared her nostrils. “Find out who did this and bring me their head,” she growled.
Whoa.
 “And anyone we suspect but are unsure of should be brought to me for interrogation,” she added. Having been on the
receiving end of her interrogation, I didn’t envy these people.
Now that the battle was over, I took the time to take a breath and really look at the cuff on my arm.
“Who put that on you?” Solana asked, walking over and inspecting it with her gaze.
I peered at the guard present, and he took the hint, removing himself from our little circle. Now it was just Ariyon, Yanric,
Solana, and me.
“One of Marissa’s Nightlings. I can’t find a seam, and when I try to pull it off, it hurts.”
She frowned. “Did he say anything when he put it on?”
I chewed my lip and nodded. “He said Marissa thanks me for the blood donation.”
Solana hissed, her eyes bugging out, and Ariyon gasped beside me. “Oh, child. If that’s what I think it is, then this is really
bad.”
My heart beat frantically against my rib cage, threatening to jump out of my chest and onto the floor.
“What is it?” Ariyon and I asked at the same time.
Solana flicked her gaze to the surrounding people and shook her head, as if we couldn’t speak freely here.
We followed her farther off into a secluded area and made a tight circle. “It could be a bloodletting cuff, something we
used in healings a hundred years ago. When one person was low on blood and there was someone who had recently died but
still had blood, they both wore a cuff like this to magically transfer blood continually to the other person.”
Dizziness washed over me at the thought of Marissa stealing the very blood from my veins. I grasped the edge of the cuff
and yanked, only to hiss in pain.
Get it off. Get it off. Get it off, I chanted in my head. Even Yanric perched on my arm and hammered his beak at it a few
times, to no avail.
“If we don’t get it off, will it drain her completely?” Ariyon went very still, like a snake about to strike.
Solana shook her head. “If that were Marissa’s intention, it would have already happened. I think it’s taking a slow,
measured dose to keep Marissa imbued with whatever power Fallon’s blood gives her.”
“Get it off,” I whimpered out loud this time and held it out to the two of them.
Solana frowned, rubbing her palms together. “Historically the person who controls the other cuff is the only one who can
take it off, by first taking off their own. But let me try something.”
She hovered her hands over the metal and a concentrated beam of light shot out, hitting the cuff. Pain unlike any I’d ever felt
before took hold of me, and I was pretty sure my arm had been cut off. I wailed in agony as I fell to my knees, clutching my
wrist to my chest.
Solana stumbled backward, but Ariyon dove down to catch me, cupping my wrist in his hands and flooding it with healing
power.
“They’ve tampered with it. Any attempts to take it off will only hurt her,” Solana declared.
No. No. No.
“So you’re telling me that with every minute, Marissa is feeding off of my blood and getting stronger?” I growled.
Solana’s expression was grave. “Yes. And once she gets this”—she touched the necklace at her throat—“she will have all
she needs to take over The Gilded City and give her Nightlings permanent bodies.”
I shook my head, getting to my feet on shaky legs. “I’m not letting that happen. Let her have my blood. I will still kill her at
the last battle.”
If Marissa was probing our defenses and doing these little attacks, then fine. I’d be waiting for her at the final battle on the
Summer Solstice. I didn’t care what Lorraine saw. I was going to kill that woman.
Ariyon gave me a look of concern, his blond hair falling messily over one eye as he slipped his hand into mine, and stroked
my palm with his thumb. It was in that moment that Yanric’s words came back to me, his advice that I should tell Ariyon of my
foretold impending death. I shook my head and leaned into him.
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered to Ariyon.
Solana watched us curiously, her gaze going from Ariyon’s hand in mine to my head on his shoulder.
“Well, time to pick up the pieces and prepare for the next attack.”
Which, according to her intel, was in five or six days. And according to Blair’s mother, I would somehow create a portal to
ferry all of the West Side into Bane Manor.
No pressure.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 § 12
George was distressed.
He and Catherine were slowly walking to Bishop’s Stortford
railway station. The Viking expression had left his features; the
motor-cap and goggles and overalls and gloves were tied up in a
brown-paper parcel which he carried under his arm. Also, his face
was very dirty.
Terrible things had happened to him.
A couple of policemen had taken his full name and address, and
made copious entries in notebooks.
Mr. H. Bullock had sworn vividly. In trying to estimate the extent
of damage to his front wheel George had tactlessly turned the full
glare of the acetylene lamp upon the horse’s eye. The horse had
hitherto been uncertain whether the situation justified panic flight or
not; now he decided swiftly in the affirmative. He rushed forward
precipitately, and in less than a dozen yards had smashed off the
wheel of the cart against a pillar-box. The cart sagged despairingly,
and streams of bilious lemonade poured through the flooring. Mr.
Bullock’s language became terrific.
And then one of the policemen had said: “By the way, got your
licence?”
George had blushed (though the fact that he was already a deep
red disguised the phenomenon).
“I’m afraid—I—I must have left it at home,” he stammered weakly,
diving into his inside pocket and fishing amongst letters and papers.
Yet both Catherine and the policeman knew in that moment that
he had not got a licence at all. Something in his voice told them.
And what is more, George knew that both the policeman and
Catherine were aware that he had not got a licence at all. Something
in their eyes told him.
 And then George had wilted under the vivid abuse of Mr. H.
Bullock. Spectators called out monotonously: “You were on the
wrong side of ’im.” “You was goin’ too fast.” “You didn’t orter ’ave
come nippin’ in like thet.” “On the kerb ’e was, a minute before—
don’t know ’ow to drive, ’e don’t.” “Didn’t orter be trusted, them soit of
cheps.” “Swervin’ abart like anythink: shouldn’ be surprised if he’s
drunk.”
And a fierce clergyman in a three-inch collar floored George with
the remark: “You ought to be in jail, my man. You are a pest to
society.”
And then George had to push the battered machine into a garage
(which was fortunately at hand), and pay exorbitantly for leaving it
there. The garage proprietor was subtly sarcastic to George.
Then George came back to parley with the policemen. The crowd
became hostile. George rather unwisely began to divest himself of
his motoring garments. Facetiousness prevailed. Catherine was the
subject of much speculation.
“I wouldn’t trust myself to ’im no more,” remarked a bystander.
And another wanted to know if her mother knew she was out. (It was
in the days of that popular song.)
“’E’s a-tryin’ to murder you, that’s wot ’e is,” said a sour-faced
spectator. “’E’s found another gal, an’ wants ter git rid of you.”
And an elderly man with a bizarre sense of humour said: “You
look out for yerself, my gal; ’e won’t ’ave no money ter marry you on
w’en ’e’s pide ’is fines.”
George caught the sally, and the whole phantasmagoria of the
police-court flashed across his mind. Also the fact that this trip to
Cambridge was likely to leave him with very little, if any money at
all....

§ 13
 And now, on the slope leading up to the railway station, George
was distressed. He was physically and mentally unmanned. He
could not speak without a tremor. He seemed so physically
enfeebled that she took his arm and asked him to lean on her. All at
once she realized the extraordinary fact that of the two she was
infinitely the stronger. With all his self-confidence and arrogance and
aplomb, he was nothing but a pathetic weakling.
The hostility of the crowd had made her vaguely sympathetic with
him. She had watched him being browbeaten by policemen and by
the owner of the cart, and a strange protective instinct surged up in
her. She wanted to stick up for him, to plant herself definitely on his
side. She felt she was bound to champion him in adversity. She
thought: “I’m with him, and I must look after him. He’s my man, and
I’ve got to protect him.”
All the long walk to the station was saturated in this atmosphere
of tense sympathy and anxious protection.
“We shall catch the 10.20,” he said. “There’s heaps of time. We
shall have over an hour to wait.”
“That’ll be all right,” she said comprehensively.
On the station platform they paced up and down many times in
absolute silence. The moon was gorgeously radiant, flinging the
goods yard opposite into blotches of light and shadow. The red
lamps of the signals quavered ineffectually.
“You know it’s awfully lucky you weren’t hurt,” he said at last.
She nodded. Pause.
Then he broke out: “You know, really, I’m most awfully sorry——”
“Oh, don’t bother about that,” she said lightly. “It wasn’t your fault.
You couldn’t help it.”
(Yet she knew it was his fault, and that he could have helped it.
She also knew that he had no licence.)
And then a strange thing happened.
 They were in the shadow of a doorway. He suddenly put his two
arms on her shoulders and kissed her passionately on the lips. Her
hair was blowing behind her like a trail of flame. He kissed her again
with deepening intensity. And then her face, upturned to his, dropped
convulsively forward. Her eyes were closed with a great mist, and
her hair fell over his hands and hid them from view. There was
something terrible in the fierceness with which he bent down and,
because he could not kiss her face, kissed her fire-burnished hair.
And as he did so again and again she began to cry very softly. His
hands could feel the sobs which shook her frame. And he was
thrilled, electrified....
“My God!” he whispered....
... Then with a quick movement she drew back. The tears in her
eyes were shining like pearls, and her face was white—quite white.
Passion was in every limb of her.
“That’s enough,” she said almost curtly, but it was all that she
could trust herself to say. For she was overwhelmed, swept out of
her depth by this sudden tide.
And all the way to Liverpool Street, with George sitting in the
corner opposite to her, her mind and soul were running mad riot....
“Good-bye,” he said later, at the gate of No. 14, Gifford Road,
and from the inflexion of his voice she perceived that their relations
had undergone a subtle change....
She watched him as he disappeared round the corner. On a
sudden impulse she raced after him and caught him up.
“George!” she said.
“Yes?”
“Will you be summoned, d’you think?”
“Oh, certainly.”
“Well—I thought I’d tell you ... if you’re short of money through it
... I’ve got some.... I can lend it to you ... if you’re short, that is....”
 “It’s awfully good of you,” he replied. Yet she knew he was
thinking of something else.... Her running back to him had reopened
the problem of farewell. He was debating: “Shall I kiss her again?”
And she was wondering if he would. In a way she hoped not. There
would be something cold-blooded in it if he did it too frequently. It
would lack the fire, the spontaneity, the glorious impulse of that
moment at Bishop’s Stortford railway station. It would assuredly be
banal after what had happened. She was slightly afraid. She wished
she had not run back to him. Nervousness assailed her.
“Good-night!” she cried, and fled back along Gifford Road.
Behind her she heard his voice echoing her farewell and the sound
of his footsteps beginning along the deserted highway. It was nearly
two a.m....
Undressing in the tiny attic bedroom she discovered a dark bruise
on her right shoulder. It must have been where he lurched sideways
against her just after the collision. She had not felt it. She had not
known anything about it....
 CHAPTER XI
THE SECOND TRANT EPISODE
§1
IT was November.
They had been engaged three months. Three months it was
since a certain winedark evening when, in the shadows of the heavy
trees on the Ridgeway, he had suddenly said:
“I suppose we are engaged?”
“Are we?”
“Well, I think it’ll be all right.... I told my father, and he didn’t
object.... Will you come to tea on Sunday?”
She perceived that their relations had entered on a new phase.
“If you like,” she said.
And he had kissed her good-bye that evening.
The Sunday had been nerve-racking. She felt she was on show.
Many years it was since she had entered the Trants’ house. In those
early days she had come in as Helen’s school friend, and nobody
had taken much notice of her. Mr. Trant had chattered amiable
trivialities and chaffed her about her red hair. Now all was immensely
different. She was George’s fiancée. She had to be treated with
deference. Mr. Trant discussed the weather and gardening and (to
the utmost extent of his capabilities) music. Mrs. Trant was effusively
embarrassed. Helen was rather frigid. After tea they went into the
drawing-room. Catherine and Mrs. Trant sat for some time together
on the couch turning over the pages of a photograph album with
careful enthusiasm. In it were portrayed the Trant family in various
stages of development—the Trant family when it had anybody
distinguished to stay with it for the week-end; the Trant family at the
door of its house, on Llandudno Pier, at Chamounix, on the
promenade deck of a P. and O. liner, and in other less idyllic
positions; the Trant family taking tea on the lawn, picnicking in
Epping Forest, about to set out for a motor spin, skating on the
Connaught Waters at Chingford, playing tennis (a) on its own grass
court, (b) on its own rubble court; the Trant family in fancy dress,
evening dress, riding dress, Alpine dress, and every other kind of
dress—in short, the Trant family in every conceivable phase of its
existence. Also the Trant family individually, collectively, and in
permutations and combinations. With studious politeness Catherine
enquired from time to time as to the identity of the various strangers
who obtruded themselves upon the Trant arena. Here were Sir Miles
Coppull (the American camphor king, holding a tennis-racket
jauntily); the Rev. R. P. Cole (President of the Baptist Association);
the Rev. St. Eves Bruce, M.A., D.D. (headmaster of George’s old
public school), beaming on Helen, by the way; not to mention groups
of fierce old gentlemen whom Mrs. Trant lumped collectively as
“some of Dad’s directors.” ...
Catherine thought: “Some day I shall be amongst all that lot...”
George suggested she should play a piano solo, and she tried a
Beethoven symphony movement. But she was unaccountably
nervous, and a valuable but rather gimcrack china and ivory model
of the Taj Mahal at Agra which was placed on top of the closed
sound-board would rattle whenever she played the chord of E flat or
its inversions.
When she stopped playing Mr. Trant said: “Let me see, is that
Beethoven?” (He pronounced the first syllable to rhyme with “see”
and the second with “grove.”)
“Yes.”
“Charming little thing,” he said vaguely....
Catherine was glad when the advent of chapel time brought the
business to a conclusion. For it was business. She could see that.
She was being sized up. When she had gone they would discuss
her. They were reckoning her up. They were not surprised at her
nervousness. They expected it. They were speculating upon her
possibilities as a daughter-in-law....
There was only one thing perhaps which did not occur to them, or
which, if it did, received less attention than it deserved.
Catherine was reckoning them up. She was keenly critical of
everything they said and did. And when Mr. Trant, shaking hands
with her at the door, said: “You must come again for a musical
evening some time, and give us some more Beethoven,” Catherine
replied:
“Oh yes, I should be delighted. I’m awfully fond of Beethoven,
aren’t you?”
But she pronounced it “Bait-hoaffen.”
There was just the merest possible suggestion of rebuke, of self-
assurance, of superiority in that....

§2
And now all these things were stale by three months.
By this time she had got used to having tea on Sundays at the
Trants’ house. She was so much at home there that she could say:
“Oh, do you mind if I shift this Taj Mahal thing while I play? It rattles
so.” After a little while they learned her fancies, and had it always
removed when she came.
And she was used to George. Everything of him she now knew.
His hopes, his dreams, his peculiarities, his vices and virtues, the
colours of all his neckties—all had been exhaustively explored during
the course of many a hundred hours together. He kissed her now
every time they met—he expended much ingenuity in arranging
times and places suitable for the ritual. Sometimes, after he had
seen her home from the theatre, his kisses were hurried,
stereotyped, perfunctory, as purely a matter of routine as putting two
pennies into the machine and drawing out a tube ticket. On other
occasions, as for instance when they strolled through country lanes
at dusk, she could sense the imminence of his kisses long before
they came. When they turned down Cubitt Lane towards the Forest
at twilight it was tacitly comprehended between them: “We are going
in here to be sentimental....” When they returned the mutual
understanding was: “We have been sentimental. That ought to last
us for some time....”
People deliberately left them alone together. They looked at the
two of them as if they were or ought to be bliss personified. They
seemed to assume that an engaged couple desires every available
moment for love-making. At meal times, for example, it was always
contrived that George should be next to Catherine. Once when Mr.
and Mrs. Trant had made the excuse that they would stroll round the
garden, Catherine, noticing that Helen was about to follow
unobtrusively, said sharply:
“Please don’t go, Helen. I want you to try over a few songs.”
Catherine wondered if Helen understood.
The fact was, being engaged was deadly monotonous. It had no
excitement, no novelty. Everything was known, expected, unravelled.
When she met George at a concert she did not think: “I wonder if he
has come here on my account.” She knew beyond all question that
he had. When at some social function she saw him chatting amongst
his male friends she did not think: “Will he come up and speak to me
or not?” She knew that his very presence there was probably on her
account, and that he would leave his male friends at the first
available opportunity. And when they had ices at a tiny table in some
retiring alcove it was not possible to think: “How funny we should
both have met like this! How curious that we should be alone here!”
For she knew that the whole thing had been premeditated, that the
alcove itself had probably been left attractively vacant for their
especial benefit. There was no point, no thrill, no expectancy in
asking the question: “Is it really me he comes to all these places
for?”
 He had declared his passion in unequivocal terms that left
nothing to be desired. That was just it: there was nothing left to be
desired. She would rather he had been ambiguous about it. And
occasionally the awful thought came to her: “If this is being engaged,
what must it be like to be married? ...”
Life was so placid, so wearyingly similar day after day, evening
after evening. Every night he met her at the stage-door of the theatre
and escorted her home. Every night he raised his hat and said
“Good evening!” Every night he took her music-case off her, and they
walked arm-in-arm down the High Street. Their conversation was
always either woefully sterile or spuriously brilliant. On the rare
occasions when they had anything particular to talk about they
lingered at the corner of Gifford Road. But she could not confide in
him. To tell him of her dreams and ambitions would be like asking for
a pomegranate and being given a gaudily decorated cabbage. Their
conversations were therefore excessively trivial: she retailed
theatrical and musical gossip, or, if the hour were very late and she
were tired, as frequently happened, she replied in weary
monosyllables to his enquiries. She found her mind becoming
obsessed with hundreds of insignificant facts which by dint of
constant repetition he had impressed upon her. She knew the
names, histories, characters, and family particulars of all the men
who worked with him in the stuffy little basement of the accountant’s
office in Leadenhall Street. She knew the complicated tangle of
rivalries and jealousies that went on there—how Mr. Smallwood did
this and Mr. Teake did that, and how Mr. Mainwaring (pronounced
Mannering) frequently lost his temper. She knew all the minutiae of
George’s daily work and existence, the restaurant he frequented for
lunch, the train he caught on the way home, the men he met day
after day in the restaurant and on the trains. Nothing of him was
there which she did not know....
Yet it was all so terribly, so tragically dull. Even his brilliance
palled. His brilliance was simply an extensive repertoire of smart
sayings culled from the works of Ibsen, Shaw, Chesterton, etc. In
three months she had heard them all. Moreover, he had begun to
repeat some of them.
 Out of a forlorn craving for incident she quarrelled with him from
time to time. His genuine sorrow at the estrangement and his
passionate reconciliation afterwards thrilled her once or twice, but
after a few repetitions became stale like the rest. Undoubtedly he
was in love with her.
And she?

§3
Doubtless one of the reasons why George’s engagement to
Catherine was not opposed very vigorously by the Trants was
Catherine’s startlingly rapid musical development, which seemed to
prophesy a future in which anything might be expected. Ever since
that Conservative Club concert Catherine had been playing regularly
in public and acquiring a considerable local reputation. Occasional
guineas and two guineas came her way, and at the opening of the
winter season she found herself with as many engagements as she
could manage. And at a local musical festival she had come out on
top in the professional pianoforte entries. A gold medal and a good
deal of newspaper prominence were the visible and immediate
results of this. Afterwards came the welcome discovery that she was
in demand. A concert organizer offered her five pounds for a couple
of solos. An enterprising and newly established photographer
photographed her gratis and exhibited a much embellished side view
(with a rather fine hair exhibition) in his window. And she ceased to
play at church socials....
Every Saturday afternoon she went to Verreker for lessons.
Though she disliked him personally, she was compelled to admit the
excellence of his teaching. He spared her no criticism, however
severe, and when he commended her work, which was rare, she
knew he meant it. If a good teacher, he was also an irritating one. He
selected her pieces, insisted on her learning those and no others,
expected from her a good deal more than it seemed possible for her
to give, and treated her generally as a rebellious child. He was
always asking her when she was going to resign her position at the
theatre. She would never be even a moderate pianist as long as she
was there, he said.
The time came when it was of financial benefit to her to resign.
She did so, and expected him to be very pleased with her. But he
merely said:
“H’m! I suppose you waited till it paid you to.”
This was so true that she had no reply ready.
He never disguised from her the fact that, however seemingly
she might be advancing on the road to fame and success, she would
never become more than a second-rate virtuoso.
“The front rank of the second-raters is as high as you’ll ever get,”
he said. But that did not hurt her now.
What did hurt her was once when he said: “You have one
abominable habit. You pose with your hair. I should recommend you
to have it cut off, then you won’t have it to think about so much.”
“Oh, should you?” she replied angrily. “I should be sensible to cut
it off, shouldn’t I, seeing it’s the only good-looking part of me!”
She hadn’t meant to say that. It slipped out.
“Is it?” he said, and for a single fatuous second she had a wild
idea that he was going to pay her a magnificent compliment. But he
added: “I mean—it never struck me as particularly good-looking. But
then I’m no judge of hair—only of music.”
She could discern in every inflection of his voice latent hostility.
There was no doubt he disliked her intensely. Latterly, too, she had
become increasingly conscious of a mysteriously antagonistic
atmosphere when he was with her. It reacted on her playing, causing
her at times to give deplorable exhibitions. It was not nervousness. It
was something in him that was always mutely hostile to something in
her. The sensation, at first interesting, became extraordinarily
irksome after a while. Once, when a poor performance of one of
Chopin’s Ballades had evoked sarcasm and abuse almost beyond
endurance, she suddenly left the music-stool and stood facing him
with her back to the instrument.
 “It’s no good,” she cried vehemently. “It’s not my fault. I’ve never
played as bad as that in my life. It’s you. I can’t play when you’re
present. Don’t know—can’t explain it, but it is so.”
He looked surprised.
“Very strange,” he said reflectively—“and unfortunate.”
She had expected him to be witheringly sarcastic. But he took it
with urbane philosophy.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose if you feel like that it can’t be helped.
We shall simply have to make the best of it.”
Which was irritatingly logical....

§4
In the Trant household the musical evening was an institution.
Rarely a month passed by unhonoured by one of these functions.
Commencing at seven or thereabouts on a Saturday evening, they
lasted till past midnight. They possessed a regular clientele of
attenders, as well as a floating population of outsiders who had
never been before and who (from more reasons, perhaps, than one)
might never come again. The drawing-room at “Highfield” was large,
but it never comfortably held the miscellaneous crowd that
assembled in it on the occasion of these musical evenings. In winter
you were either unbearably hot (near the fire) or unbearably cold
(near the window), and in summer, without exception, you were
always unbearably hot. Moreover, you were so close to your
neighbour on the overcrowded settee that you could see the
perspiration draining into her eyebrows. From a dim vista obscured
by cigarette smoke there came the sound of something or other,
indescribably vague and futile, a drawing-room ballad sung by a
squeaky contralto, a violin solo by Dvořák, or a pompous Beethovian
hum on the piano. However beautiful and forceful might be the
music, it was always vague and futile to you, because you were
watching your neighbour’s eyebrows act as a sponge to the down-
trickling perspiration.... Always in these musical evenings there was
banality. Always beauty was obscured by bathos. And could you
ever forget the gymnastic evolutions of a settleful of musical
enthusiasts balancing cups of steaming hot coffee on their knees? ...
The day before Christmas Day was a Saturday. For Christmas
Eve a musical evening had been arranged—a musical evening that,
out of deference to the season, was to surpass all previous
undertakings of the kind. Catherine was invited, and would, of
course, be one of the principal performers. In virtue of her intimate
relation to George she had come early in the afternoon and stayed to
tea. Her usual weekly lesson from Verreker was cancelled for this
particular week, probably owing to Christmas. So she would be able
to spend the entire evening at “Highfield.” She was in buoyant spirits,
chiefly owing to her rapidly advancing fame as a pianist. She had the
feeling that her presence at the Trants’ musical evening was an act
almost of condescension on her part, and it pleased her that the
Trants treated her as if this were so. She would undoubtedly be, in
music-hall parlance, the star turn of the evening. People, unknown
aspirants after musical fame, would point her out as one who had
already arrived at the sacred portals. She knew also that Mrs. Trant
had been sending round messages to friends that ran more or less
after this style: “You simply must come to our musical evening on
Christmas Eve! It is going to be an awfully big affair, and we have got
Cathie Weston coming down to play—you know, the girl who——”
The whole business tickled Catherine’s vanity.
In the interval between tea and seven o’clock she superintended
the arrangement of the piano in the drawing-room, taking care that
the light from an electric hand-lamp close by should shine
advantageously on her hair while she was playing. She decided that
she would play one of the Chopin Etudes....

§5
At a quarter past seven the room was full. According to custom
visitors introduced themselves to one another, the crowd being
altogether too large for ceremonious introductions. Late-comers
came in quietly and unostentatiously, sitting down where they could
and nodding casually to people they knew. The lighting was
æsthetically dim, being afforded by a few heavily-shaded electric
hand-lamps scattered promiscuously on tables and book-cases.
Every available corner was occupied by extra chairs brought in from
other parts of the house, and the central arena in front of the
fireplace was a dumping-ground for music-cases, ’cellos, violins, etc.
Catherine occupied a roomy arm-chair next to the fire, and was
conscious that she was being looked at attentively. A red-shaded
lamp on the end of the mantel-piece threw her hair into soft radiance,
but its effect on her eyes was so dazzling as to throw all around her
into an impenetrable dimness in which she could discern nothing but
the vague suggestion of persons and things. George sat next to her,
and from time to time passed remarks to which she replied
vivaciously, conscious that every movement of her head brought into
prominence the splendour of her hair. (Of late she had been paying
considerable attention to her hair: a visit to a West End coiffurist had
produced startling results.)
The evening crawled monotonously on. Log after log of crackling
pine was placed on the open fire-grate; song followed song, violin,
’cello, mandoline each had its turn; a girl recited “The Dandy Fifth” in
a way that was neither better nor worse than what Catherine felt she
could have done herself, and Mr. Trant’s deep voice could be heard
constantly above the periodic applause: “Charming little thing that.”
“Is that one of Bach’s?” (pronounced “Back’s”). “Very pretty, isn’t it?
Rather nice words, don’t you think?”
The order of performance was not definite. Catherine did not
know when she might be asked. Of course, she had not a trace of
nervousness. She had lost that completely now after constant
appearances on public concert platforms. And this was only a
drawing-room affair: there were no musical critics frowning in the
front row, there was probably nobody in the room who would know if
she played a false note. Besides, she would not play a false note,
She smiled contemptuously as she heard the applause evoked by a
timid rendering of a drawing-room ballad. She had an unmitigated
contempt for these drawing-room ballads. Her theatrical experience
had given her an intense hatred of cheap sentimental music of the
kind sold in music shops at one-and-sixpence a copy. The particular
song that had just been sung was of this class: its title was
monosyllabic, and its music composed with an eye to vamping the
accompaniment....
“That’s a nice little thing,” said Mr. Trant. “I don’t believe I’ve
heard it before, either.... Reminds me of something, though ... I can’t
think what....” Then in the blurred distance she could discern Mrs.
Trant’s white frocked form travelling swiftly across the room and
engaging in conversation with somebody unseen.
“Oh, please,” she heard, “please do! Everybody would be so
glad. Helen, do persuade him. Really——”
The rest was drowned in the tuning of a violin.
Then Mrs. Trant, returning to her seat, whispering to her
husband, getting up, standing with her back to the corner of the
piano, and announcing:
“We are now to have a pianoforte solo”—impressive pause;
Catherine guessed what was coming—“by Mr. Ray Verreker!”
Catherine had guessed wrong....

§6
But it was his presence there which startled her. Why was he at
such a gathering? She knew his stormy contempt for the kind of
musical suburbinanity that flourished in Upton Rising: it was his
boast that he never attended a local concert and never would.
“Suburbinanity”—that was his own word for it. She knew his fierce
hatred of the kind of things that had been going on for over an hour
—that particular violin piece by Dvořák, for instance, was anathema
to him. She knew also his passionate intolerance of mediocrity of
any kind. She could imagine his sensations when listening to that
girl’s rendering of “The Dandy Fifth.” The puzzle was, why had he
come? He knew the kind of thing it would be. He must have known
the inevitable ingredients of a suburban musical evening. And yet he
had come. He had conquered his detestation for social gatherings of
this kind so far as to come. It was rather extraordinary, completely
uncharacteristic of him.
To Catherine, always the egoist, came the thought: “Has he come
here because he knew I should be here?” Yet even a second thought
dismissed that idea as unwarrantly absurd. That would be rather an
additional reason for his staying away. For every Saturday that she
visited him convinced her more and more that he despised her and
her ways.
And she also thought: “Will the effect of his being present make
me play badly?” She did not know in the least whether it would or
not, for the circumstances were so completely different from what
they were at “Claremont.” Here she might possibly be able to forget
he was in the same room with her. Certainly he would not be at her
elbow, turning over the music pages with gestures that conveyed to
her perfectly the sensations of disgust that he was experiencing....
But he was playing. Her surprised speculations were immediately
cut short by the sound of the piano. She could see his fingers
travelling magically over the keys and his strange, grotesque face
looking vacantly over the top of the instrument. He looked different
from usual. It was probably the unaccustomed angle from which she
was watching him, for his features, perfectly unsymmetrical,
presented an astonishing variety of aspects.... She suddenly forgot
to look at him. Something that he played had thrilled her. A swift
chord, passing into a strange, uncouth melody set all her nerves
tingling. What was this piece? ... He went on through swirling
cascades of arpeggios in the right hand, falling octaves, crashing
chords, and then, once again, this strange uncouth melody, the
same, but subtly altered. Tremendous, passionately barbaric, was
this thing that he was playing. It seized hold of her as if it had
suddenly given the answer to all her wants and desires: it stretched
out clear and limitless over the furthest horizon she had ever
glimpsed; it held all the magic of the stars. And far ahead, further
than she had ever dared to look before, lay the long reaches of
boundless, illimitable passion ... passion ... passion ... that was what
it was.... Her hands twitched convulsively on the sides of the chair.
She was caught in a great tide; it was sweeping her further and
further outward and onward; she wanted to cry out but could not.
Tears were in her eyes, but they would not fall. And for the first time
that evening she forgot the pose of her head and hair....
Applause was to her the waking from a dream. They were
applauding. A fierce storm of contempt for them overtook her,
because she knew they had not heard and seen and felt what she
had heard and seen and felt. Their applause was banal, atrociously
common-place. Even in mere volume it did not exceed that which
had been accorded to the song with the monosyllabic title or to “The
Dandy Fifth.” And Catherine, vaguely annoyed that there was any
applause at all, was also vaguely angry that it had been so
indiscriminating. She did not applaud herself, but she heard George
clapping almost in her left ear, and she shot a curious glance at him.
She was thinking: “How much of it has meant anything at all to you?”
And then she heard Mr. Trant’s deep, suave voice: “What did you
say that was? Peculiar piece, but awfully pretty.”
Verreker mentioned a title she could not hear. George had
apparently caught something. He whispered to her in spasms:
“Jeux—something or other, I think he said. French, I suppose.
Modern French. Debussy school, you know. Oh, it’s ‘Jeux d’Eaux.’ I
heard him say it again. ‘Jeux d’Eaux,’ that’s what it is.... One of
Ravel’s things, you know.” ...

§7
Verreker returned to his seat. There followed a baritone song of
the rollicking variety, a ’cello solo, and then Mrs. Trant called for a
“pianoforte solo by Miss Catherine Weston.”
Catherine rose languidly, and picked her way amongst the violins
and music-stands to the piano. She screwed the stool an inch or so
higher (it being a point of honour with her always to make some
alteration, however slight, in the seating accommodation provided for
her), then she lowered the music-rest and slid it back as far as it
would go. Her first piece was to be the “Butterfly” Study in G flat
(Chopin), so she gently ran her hands arpeggio-wise along the tonic
and inversions of G flat. Having done this she paused, chafed her
fingers delicately, and tossed her head. The lamp at her side shone
on her magnificent hair, throwing her face and bust into severe
profile. It was then that she noticed a slight commotion in the far
corner of the room. A man was disengaging himself from the closely-
wedged throng and proceeding to the doorway. As he passed the
fireplace the flames flickered brightly round a log of wood just placed
on the fire. Catherine in a swift glance saw that it was Verreker....
Carefully he wound his way to the door and passed out.
Catherine flushed Her hands commenced to play, but her whole
being was tingling with anger. She was conscious that everybody in
the room had noticed his ostentatious withdrawal and was drawing
conclusions from it. Everybody knew she took lessons from him. His
going out of the room at that moment was nothing less than a
deliberate insult offered to her in front of everybody. In the half-
shadows round the piano she could see the faces of Mr. and Mrs.
Trant, both rather bewildered.... Her fingers were moving
automatically; before she properly realized she was playing a solo
they had stopped. Cloudily she grasped the fact that the “Butterfly”
Study had come to an end. Applause floated in, and she found
herself walking back to her seat. Applause thinned and subsided;
Mrs. Trant said something, and there began the tuning of a couple of
violins with much unnecessary prodding of notes on the piano.
George was saying something to her, but she was not listening. The
door opened and Verreker re-entered. He sat down unostentatiously
in a chair close by and his face was hidden by shadows. The piano
tinkled into the opening of a Haydn Concerto.... And Catherine
thought: “That was really a horrid thing to do. I believe it is the
nastiest trick I ever saw. I expected rudeness, but somehow not that
—at any rate, not in public.” She was primarily angry, but in her
anger there was more than a tinge of disappointment....
She hated him. The fact that it was his teaching that had brought
her success was swamped utterly in this petty insult he had seen fit
to offer her in public. Once the idea did strike her: perhaps it was just
coincidence that he went out while I was playing. But instinct told her
that his withdrawal was deliberate, part of a planned scheme to
humiliate her. And she kept piercing the shadows where he sat with
a venomous greenish glint in her eyes, until she reflected that even if
she could not see him, he could very likely see her. At this she
flushed hotly and turned away. The evening crept towards midnight.
Coffee was handed round. There was a momentary respite from
music after the conclusion of the Hadyn Concerto, and conversation
swelled into a murmurous hum all over the room. She lit a cigarette
and puffed out smoke languidly. George went to the music cabinet
and brought out some Ravel music. She scanned it perfunctorily; as
a matter of fact she had but a vague idea of what it was like by
looking at it. “Pavane pour un Enfant Défunt,” it was called; the first
few pages looked charmingly simple. George could not find “Jeux
d’Eaux.” Possibly he had not got a copy. But all this modern music
was frightfully interesting. Had she heard César Franck’s Violin
Sonata—the famous one? Or Scriabin’s Eleven Preludes? Or
Debussy’s “L’Après-midi d’une Faune”? Of course, futurist music
was merely the development of what other composers had led the
way to. Some of Chopin’s Ballades and Preludes, for instance, gave
one the impression that if he had lived a century later he might have
been furiously modern. And of course Tchaikovsky. In fact——
Catherine listened patiently, putting in an occasional “Yes” and
“Of course” and “I daresay.” Her one thought was: “I have been
publicly insulted.” And George did not pass even the frontiers of her
mind save when she reflected casually: “Considering what a lot
George knows, it’s rather queer he should be so remarkably
uninteresting at times....”

§8
It was nearly one on Christmas morning when the party broke up.
Catherine was waiting in the hall for George. He had gone to help
somebody to find his or her music-case. Most of the company had
gone; some were going, with much loud chattering on the doorstep