I sit on the beach,forcing my breath to steady after watching Leigh vanish into the black water. My gaze stays glued to the center of the lake, to the spot where she disappeared. Beneath my soaked clothes, chills race down my arms.
Dive in. Go after her, one of my ancestors’ ghosts urges.
The only thing keeping me rooted to this muddy shore is the promise I made—to find the spell to close the rift. I have until daybreak before I risk alerting the Blades.
She’s been gone five minutes. Five fucking minutes in the realm of the dead.
I push to my feet. My limbs are leaden with dread. If anyone finds out I let the queen enter Mictlan alone, there’ll be hell to pay. My sister Sama and I—still outsiders here, no matter how welcome we’ve been treated—would become perfect scapegoats.
Cynthia and Jorina might call us family, but grief can turn people cruel. Wilder won’t hesitate to arrest me and lay the blame at my feet if something happens to his fiancée.
Find the spell. Bring her home. Run if necessary.
Inside the castle, pre-wedding celebrations rage on as I head back to the library. The guests laugh and toast, unaware that a child has been stolen by a Dullahan, oblivious to the fact that their queen is inside a death realm. The joy in the air feels obscene, almost grotesque.
“I swear, the lack of propriety associated with the monarchy these days is inconceivable,” a sharp voice complains around the corner ahead.
I slow my steps; something in that tone makes my skin crawl.
“Nebula and Epsilon cohabitating as if they were equals—it’s disgusting!”
Felicity. I peek around the corner and my stomach drops. Leigh’s cousin stands in a dress that looks like a cake, surrounded by several men, her aura green with jealousy.
“I understand my cousin’s desire for peace, but it simply isn’t right. She shouldn’t be allowed to make the rules. Not when she’s a no-good Lunar Witch.” My heart stops. “I promise you, if I were queen, we’d have order, not this circus. Can you imagine? Any children Leigh has will be part Nebula! If my father were alive, he’d be sickened.”
“Are you sure you’re next in line?” one lackey asks.
Felicity’s glare could freeze molten magma. “Are you referring to Ravi and Sama?” The disgust in how she spits our names sends ice through my veins. “Easily disposable. They’d be the first to go if I were queen. They may not be ahead of me in succession, but they come after me, which makes them a threat.”
She disappears around another corner, but I can’t move. My heart slams against my ribs. If something happens to Leigh tonight, Felicity inherits the throne.
My hands tremble as I check my watch. Twenty minutes. Still too early to call the Blades. I promised Leigh I would wait.
But Wilder isn’t a Blade anymore.
Fear drives me toward the west wing. Leigh will be furious that I involved Wilder. She doesn’t want to cause him unnecessary worry. I’m already worried myself, but I won’t let anything happen to her, either. Not with Felicity watching, already plotting to get rid of both of us.
Easily disposable. Her words haunt my thoughts as I break into a run.
Leigh needs to understand what awaits her if she doesn’t make it back alive. Wilder will bring her back safely. We should have told him about the rift on Samhain. As capable as Leigh is, she’s not a trained fighter. Wilder won’t let her fail.
Several moments later, I find myself outside Wilder’s door. Gods, he’ll be livid. But Leigh could be in danger right now. I try the handle and quickly find it unlocked.
Inside, his room is perfectly organized. His suitcase is empty, with clothes hung in the wardrobe with military precision. Not like me—my suitcase sits beside my bed, always packed, ready to run. I have spent my whole life as a Lunar Witch, moving from place to place, never safe. If I fail Leigh, I’ll die trying to outrun a past I never truly escaped.
I open my mouth to call out for Wilder, but his deep voice interrupts the quiet, thick with sleep. “I left the door unlocked for you.”
“It’s Ravi. I need your help.”
The bedside lamp switches on. I squint against the sudden brightness.
Wilder sits up in bed with a frown. His tattooed chest is on display. “Ravi?” He rubs his eyes. “I thought you were Leigh.”
“Leigh’s in trouble.” No use sugarcoating it.
Alarm flashes in his eyes. “In trouble, how?”
I hesitate. “It’s hard to say.”
