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Stellan swept her into his arms and spun her into a dip, gifting her a quick and passionate kiss. “How will I then change you out of your wet gown, my love?”

“Silly.” Almaura clicked her tongue. “As long as one of us is wet and has to change, what does it matter? I’ll have you either way.”

Her father loosed a low growl of approval. “Almaura the Bonewhisperer, indeed.”

“Stellan!” Almaura hissed, laughing as she smacked his shoulder.

“You’re right, we don’t want anyone to get word of how incredible your mouth is. They’ll try to steal you away.” He landed another swift kiss, fangs nicking Almaura’s lip for a quick sip of her blood as he pulled away. “First one there is taking the clothes off.”

Stellan flashed an impish grin and dropped Almaura on her arse, sprinting away. Unfortunately for him, Almaura was who she was.

Her mother pierced a fang into one thumb, reached out, and rubbed her fingers together. Halfway across the park, Stellan went still as a statue mid-stride and toppled to the grass, locked in that position. Almaura took her sweet time getting up and brushing off, blowing a kiss as she sauntered by her mate.

“Magnificent creature,” Stellan husked, eyes following her. “I don’t fucking deserve you.”

Almaura reached the little Lunara, gently lifting the moth from her back and sending it on its way, then turned to free Stellan with a crook of her finger.

Lunara’s world turned over. She remembered now and knew what happened next, but she watched with bated breath anyway as Stellan raced to the fountain, picked up both of his beloved girls, and propelled all three of them into the water.

She laughed right along with them, recalling the splash and cold rush. The joy.

This was one of her fondest memories. Maybe even the best day of her young life. No rules. Only fun. Her parents so besotted that it was imprinted on her very being, and she’d decided then and there to accept nothing less than what they shared.

Weeping moons, seeing them like that again. Feeling their love and witnessing such a moment now, with the understanding of her grown mind, was a gift she would cherish forever.

“Technically speaking, this is one of my memories, but…unimportant. We were both there.”

Lunara startled, having completely forgotten Endellion was beside her. “Wait, you were here?”

“Well.” Endellion shifted her head sideways to reveal a bench behind her massive fall of hair. Perched on its dark surface, pecking away at nothing, was a tiny bird. “I see with a sight that would stagger you.”

Lunara’s vision narrowed, a wretched ringing in her ears. “The note from the caves⁠—”

“I’m sorry, friend. I can never tell you about the one who wrote those words. Ever.” Endellion sighed. “Would that I could, but those are trials for others. Do not trouble yourself over that arsehole. As long as everyone listens—” She cringed and drew a steadying breath. “Never mind.”

Lunara knew better than to argue. “Is there anything you can tell me that will help us? What about…” She rubbed her chest, the stab so acute it felt like a real knife was buried there. “What about how to save Nyri and Baldrir?”

Pressure came from all sides, pressing in and down on Lunara as Endellion’s eyes flared white-hot, wind kicking up her miles of hair.

The chorus of voices that sometimes belonged to Lunara was a force unlike any other when Endellion loosed it. “Ten and four are missing. Taken. Of those lost, two best forsaken.”

Ten and four. Fourteen. The number of Demons in the contingent. And Lunara was asking about two of them.

Her pain was nothing when understanding dawned. “You want us to leave them to their fate? Abandon them! We would never⁠—”

“Best forsaken. Best. Best. Best. A rising sun meets fettered hope, the golden noontide clouding…a feral…look to the mist…” Endellion’s lips peeled back as she gripped her head. “Can’t. Not for you. Would ruin everything.” She turned her burning gaze to Lunara, sagging. “I’m sorry, moth. Please. Please, trust me. It’s not for you.”

The idea of turning their backs on Nyri and Bal turned Lunara’s stomach. Her beautiful young friend was not made for the horrors of life. She was sweet and innocent, so full of exuberance. In some ways, though he was older, Baldrir was the same. Many extolled his lightness before she healed him. Even after, he kept his good and gentle nature. They were supposed to sit back and let it transpire?

Lyriat was going to lose his stars-damned mind.

“It’s not for you.” Endellion repeated, gentler that time.

Lungs clenching as the maelstrom eased, Lunara rasped, “There’s so much I don’t understand.”

A tinkling giggle, Endellion’s mood flipping in an instant. “I know. I’m the one who came to warn all of you, remember? Imagine if I hadn’t.”

“Wait, you couldn’t say that before!” Lunara tried to ask during her trial for Illamiata, wanting to know if the voice was the Oracle, but Endellion was only able to answer one of her questions.