CHAPTER 1





“Alex, run!”





If it was any other voice, I would've taken a split second to assess the situation but only two voices can force me into immediate action. Without a backwards glance, I sprint across the lawn, leap over the low-laying stone wall, and take the footpath along the river. For mid-morning in Seattle, the park is inexplicably deserted. As usual, the overcast skies oppressively push down on the city. The cool October air burns in my lungs.





I still don't know whom I'm running from or why, only that I've been commanded to take flight. I'm still a good two miles from our meeting point and I wonder if I'll get there. Silence follows me as I dash out of the park and into a small crowd gathered at the corner, waiting for their turn to cross the street. I don't have time to wait. Pushing through them, with grumblings of indignation aimed at me, I dash out into traffic, dodging moving cars as I go. I feel like an actor in a movie; I move without fear. Fear is something I haven't felt in a long time and I'm not about to waste energy on it now.





Horns blare and drivers curse but I don't stop to offer apologies. Two blocks later, I'm facing a closed street torn up by construction. A detour will set me back almost another mile. Mentally, I calculate the best route while every instinct I have says to ignore the signs and just cross the street.





“To hell with it,” I mutter. I slide under the “Do Not Cross” tape and hurry across the street. It looks like a bomb went off in the middle of the road. Thick chunks of asphalt lay in heaping piles along the sidewalks. Dump trucks, backhoes, and front end loaders sit stationary down the middle of the road. Something about the setup feels sinister...like it's a hideout more than a construction zone.





The thought crosses my mind as an arrow whizzes past my head. Fighting my desire to whip out my bow and confront my would-be assassin, I take off running again. Against Duke's orders, I let the magic—or whatever it is that I possess—flow behind me, feeling out my enemies. Some fifty yards back, four Dark Court soldiers are in pursuit. Four? I'm better off evading than going hand-to-hand with them.





As I run, I take in my surroundings—tall buildings with fire escapes; dark alleys that lead to only Judah knows where; abandoned stores with boarded up windows. I have multiple options, all with positive and negative attributes. Tyson's voice suddenly whispers in my head: “Up.”





Without questioning the validity of the voice in my head, I veer to the right down an alley ripe with green garbage bins and rats scurrying about. I leap up onto a bin directly under the fire escape balcony. Using all the strength I can muster, I pull myself up onto the platform. The rusting metal bites into my palms. I foresee tetanus shots in my future.





“There!” someone shouts. I glance down the alley where two Dark Court soldiers are pointing my way.





“Oh crap!”





Quickly I scramble to my feet and start up the stairs. Five more platforms sit between the roof and me. Thankfully, I'm in good shape so I get through the first three sets before I start to feel somewhat winded. Below me, metal clangs against metal. Are these jackasses seriously shooting at me? Amateurs. They're just wasting ammunition. I clear the last platform and climb over the ledge onto the roof. A door, I need a door, but the top of the building is flat and inescapable.





Taking only the briefest of seconds, I study the rooftops on the buildings around me. Spotting a door two buildings over, I sprint across the roof. Luckily, the buildings are so close together I easily leap from one roof to the other. Arrows whiz past me with wild abandon. It's clear the Dark Court soldiers aren't taking the time to actually aim; they're just loading and releasing. Again, amateurs. First lesson in combat: if the target is in front of you, take aim. They've already got me on the run in front of them. I chuckle. If this is the best Helena can do, then this war should be over in no time.





The thought almost makes me pause. Why has Helena sent these jokers after me? Why didn't she send her best soldiers? My death is her victory; I'm the final stepping stone to her complete rule of Adelaide.





She doesn't want me dead, not yet. But why?





I reach the door and hit the frame. Just as the portal activates, I'm knocked to the ground. A Dark Court soldier has his arms wrapped around my calves.





“Got ya!” he shouts even though I'm close enough to smell his breath.





I struggle against him, managing to free one foot which I promptly smash down on his face. His bones break against the sole of my boot. Screaming, he releases my other foot. I dive into the portal just as the other three soldiers clear the ledge and land on the roof.





The portal spits me out into a dark living room and deactivates. Besides the hammering of my heart, the only sound is the ticking of hundreds of clocks. This isn't the meeting place but it was the only place I could think of on such short notice.





“Tea, dear?” Senita asks, waving her wrinkled hand at the cupboard. The doors swing open and two teacups and two saucers gently float across the kitchen and settle calmly on the table. If she's setting the table for two, she's not expecting Tyson.





“Thanks.” I cross the room and take the empty chair across from her. Around us, hundreds of clocks tick, beep, and chime with each passing minute. Clocks hang on the walls, sit on every available flat surface, or stand tall on the floor. Senita has collected unique clocks for hundreds of years. After all, when you can live forever, a hobby is a necessity for maintaining sanity. Although I do question how the incessant ticking keeps her sane.





“Rough morning, dear?” She drops two cubes of sugar into her cup and stirs.





“The worst. I was getting my morning coffee like I always do when I was suddenly ambushed in the park. I didn't even see them; I wasn't using my senses. Kaleb yelled for me to run so I did.”





“Where is Mr. Starks now?”





I shrug. “Most likely at the meeting place.”





“Are you worried?”





“Not about him,” I sigh as I swirl the spoon in my drink. Kaleb is the least of my worries.





“Still no word?” She furrows her ancient eyebrows.





“Not in the last three days.”





A week ago, my boyfriend Tyson Beckwith and several other True Court soldiers left on an undercover mission to Adelaide. The point of the mission was to get food to the village. Thanks to Helena Cardheart's iron fist—and heart—the people were practically starving to death. At least, the ones who chose to stand against her. Others joined her ranks simply for survival and others joined for misguided intentions. I couldn't fault those who were trying to stay alive. How could I? My grandmother is cruel bitch.





“I'm sure he'll turn up soon, dear.”





“Duke says he doesn't know what's keeping them. If he wasn't needed so badly here, he'd go to Adelaide himself.”





“How about Olivier?”





“Olivier is back in Paris—new safe house, new crew. I don't like it, Senita. Some of these kids joining our ranks are barely in their teens. So far Duke has them doing nothing but training but this war has to end sometime and it's going to be on the backs of these kids.”





“Yes, these are perilous times, dear. Horrible sacrifices must be made.”





I sip my tea and sigh once more. Senita's right but I still don't like it. I don't like that I'm asking so much of people I barely know. Then again, they're asking a lot of me.





Once upon a time, my name was Celeste Moon. I was an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl with a normal life. Mom and I lived in a small apartment in downtown Bellwood. I attended high school with my best friends Clare Monroe and Kaleb Starks—who was the son of my mother's boyfriend, Duke. I'd always been suspicious that something about my life wasn't right. For starters, I couldn't remember anything before the age of eight and Mom wasn't inclined to share. I never knew who my father was and Mom refused to talk about him. Then there were the dreams. For nine years I had recurring dreams of a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy begging me to remember he loves me, to not forget him.





The day I met him outside my dreams changed my life forever.





Tyson Beckwith is, or was, the son of Jospeh Beckwith, my deceased father King Darius Trueblood’s best friend. Tyson belongs to the Shields of the Adelaidian army. And as I later learned, so does Clare, Kaleb, and Duke. My father was killed during an uprising so Mom took me and fled to the Subject realm. There, she had Senita erase my memory. Kaleb, Duke, and Tyson were there as well. For some reason, I never forgot Tyson.





For nine years, I fell in love with a mystery, a dream and even though so much has changed, my love for Tyson hasn't—even though I'm engaged to Kaleb. Per Adelaidian custom, the magic chooses the mates for the Royals. Much to everyone's surprise, it chose Kaleb, not Tyson. However, even knowing that I'm betrothed to Kaleb and I'm expected to marry him soon, I can't let Tyson go. How do you let go of someone you've loved half your life?





One day I will have to choose but not today. And if I can beat the magic like my father did, I won't ever need to choose. Besides, I've already chosen.





“Do you think I'll be a good Queen?” The question surprises me as much as it surprises Senita.





“Of course! Your father was a great king and I like you better than I liked him.”





I laugh. “I think you're biased. You treat me like a daughter.”





“And I treated him like a son. I loved him very much.”





I sober. “Yeah, I wish I had known him.” All I have left of my father is a picture that I keep in the pocket of my shirt, just under my Kevlar vest.





“He loved you dearly.”





“Do you believe he sees me now? Do you think he'd be proud?”





“Yes. Why these questions?”





I push the chair away from the table, get up, and start pacing the room.





“The war is getting worse. My people are starving to death while I sit here in the Subject realm eating the good of the land.” I laugh bitterly. “Helena is growing more vile as the days pass.” I stop at the window and stare out at the city below. “ I don't know how to stop her. She coldly sat by while her own daughter killed herself. This is a woman who feels nothing—no remorse, no shame...nothing. I don't know how to defeat that.”





Senita waves her hand in the air and all the clocks immediately cease their ticking. The sudden silence is deafening. She approaches me. Taking my hand she lays it against my throat, against my carotid artery.





“Feel that?” My vein pulses against my fingertips. Taking my other hand, she presses it against my chest, right over my heart. The organ thumps against my palm.





“That is purpose, Alexandria. You were born for a purpose, for a time such as now. You have a mighty destiny, one created for you before you were born. Good always trumps evil—always. Helena may have the upper hand for now, but not for long.”





Cupping my face, Senita's dark wizened eyes search mine. “You have something greater, Alexandria: You have love. As long as you have love, you can overcome anything, even something as deep as Helena's hate. You do know how to defeat her, dear. It's not a matter of how, it's a matter of when.”





* * *





I leave Senita the way I came: through the looking glass. Duke doesn't find my brand of humor particularly funny and he isn't amused when I come strolling through the portal sans Kaleb.





“Don't start,” I warn as I brush past him. My head hurts and Senita has given me a lot to think about. The last thing I need is Duke raining on my parade.





In the kitchen, Kaleb is leaning against the corner, inhaling a bowl of cereal. Without exchanging a word, he pours me a bowl of Fruit Loops and hands it to me. Lately, things have been like that with us. Neither of us have to say much; we somehow instinctively know what the other person needs. It unnerves Tyson—and to be truthful, just about everyone else as well. I can't explain the connection, other than to blame it on the magic.





“When did you get back?” I ask between spoonfuls of cereal.





“About an hour ago. You go to Senita's?”





“Under pressure, it was the first place I thought of.”





He nods. “Probably the safest as well. I was able to take two down before you disappeared. The other two are in the wind.”





“Thanks. Maybe I should go somewhere else for coffee.”





“And miss Seattle's Best?” he chuckles. “No way! We should change routine for a while. We've been doing the same thing for months.”





Months. I shake my head. We've been in Alaska for almost four months. We left the warmth of Mexico for the frigid temperatures of the Northwest. We're limited on places to go in the U.S, given that Kaleb and Duke are still wanted for the murders of Mom and me. Our abrupt departure from society hadn't gone unnoticed by our landlord or my teachers.





“Probably a good idea.” I finish the last of my cereal then rinse the bowl out in the sink. “Any word from Adelaide?”





“No.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me against him. He knows what I'm really asking and it hurts him. I hate being a source of pain for him. He's known since we were kids that we're betrothed. Meanwhile, I've only had six months to get used to the idea. And I've been in love with Tyson for nine years. That's hard to get past.





I let Kaleb hold me for a moment before pulling away. He milks these little stolen gestures for all they're worth. I try not to deny him because I don't want to hurt him. Sometimes, though, I wonder if it hurts him more that I allow it rather than outright reject him. It's not out of pity that I let him; I find honest solace in his arms. Kaleb understands me in ways that I don't even think Tyson does; after all, Kaleb was my friend for nearly three years before I found out about Adelaide and Tyson and who I really am. My love for Tyson is unbreakable but what I feel for Kaleb grows daily.





It terrifies the hell out of me.





Kaleb holds my hand, his green eyes studying my face. I feel that I should blush and look away but I don't. This is Kaleb, my friend. There is nothing awkward about us.





“When was the last time you slept?” he asks.





“I don't remember.” Days seamlessly run together. I'm lucky if I know which day of the week it is, much less when I last slept.





“Go get some sleep, okay? It's been a rough week.”





“What about you?”





He smiles sadly. “I'm a big boy. Don't worry about me.” He kisses my forehead. “You have enough concerns in that pretty little head of yours.”





“Ugh, don't remind me.” I turn to leave but stop in the doorway. Without turning around I say, “Kaleb, I have to worry about you. Because if you're not okay, I'm not okay.”





“I wish that was enough.”





“Me, too.”





* * *





Our house is a converted barn. Two bathrooms, the kitchen, dining room, living room, Duke's office, and two bedrooms are on the bottom level. The upper level has six bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a couple of closets mostly used for portals. My room and Kaleb's room are on opposite ends of the upper level—mostly because I share my room with Tyson. We tried to be discrete about it but Kaleb called us on it one morning over breakfast. Ever since then, we haven't hid our sleeping arrangement.





In our bedroom, I find Clare on the bed. One pillow is tucked between her knees, the other on the floor. Her bright red hair splays across the bed, catching the light of the mid-afternoon sun. She snores softly, her body occasionally twitching. She looks peaceful and for that, I'm grateful.





Quietly, I strip out of my clothes and head into the bathroom. I desperately need a shower. While the water warms up, I study my reflection. Hazel eyes stare back at me. My shoulder-length brown hair has seen better days. Although the color to my normally pale skin is nice, I'm still pale enough that the color I do have can scarcely be called a tan. Let's face it: I'm average. Not bad-looking but nothing that would give a supermodel a run for her money.





The hot water rinses the sticky sweat from my body. The heat eases my muscles and for the first time since this morning, I finally start to relax. Constantly being on the run takes its toll after a while. I've been running for the last six months. Somehow, Mom managed to keep us under the radar for nine years. No one looked for us. Then again, no one thought we were alive.





Thinking about Mom hurts. She killed herself to save my life. She killed herself in front of me. That leaves images no one should ever have to live with and ones that I'll carry for the rest of my life. So many secrets came to light that day, secrets that threatened to destroy me. Mom revealed that Adina Denver, Clare's twin brother Jackson's girlfriend, was the secret love child of Duke Starks and Mom. To make matters worse, Adina had betrayed us to Helena. Jackson, Sal—Olivier Bianchi's boyfriend—and several others were beheaded in the Adelaide town square. Adina claimed she didn't know what Helena was up to but when Helena beheaded Jackson, she realized just how evil our grandmother could be.





So Adina and I share a mom and Kaleb and Adina share a dad. It's a twisted triangle, one that affects everyone in the house. Clare rightfully hates Adina for what happened to Jackson. And because Clare is my best friend, I should hate Adina as well but mostly, I feel sorry for her. Duke is trying to get to know his daughter but Kaleb avoids her. The situation is uncomfortable.





Once the water runs cold, I get out and wrap a towel around me. The reflection in the mirror doesn't look so pathetic now. But I won't feel whole until Tyson is back and only Judah knows when that will be.





When I return to the bedroom, Clare is awake. Her eyes follow me around the room as I dry off and get dressed. After I brush and braid my hair, I climb into bed next to her.





“Rough morning?”





“Got jumped by DC in the park.”





“How many?” her blue eyes reflect concern.





“Four, all amateurs. They never once shot to kill or even injure. It felt like...a practice run.”





“Weird.”





“Yeah.” I sigh. “Any word from Malachi?” Her fiance is with Tyson on this mission.





“No, nothing since Sam came back three days ago.” Sam, Malachi's brother, had returned from Adelaide alone. He reported that the mission had been successful and that Tyson, the team leader, sent him back. He knew nothing more and in the three days since, he'd begged Duke numerous times to be allowed to go find them. Duke refused.





“I feel like I'm going to go crazy soon,” I admit with a half-hearted chuckle that comes out more like a strangled sob.





“Don't. If you go crazy, then I'll go crazy. It'll be madness!” Her blue eyes widen in mock horror.





“Oh, not madness!” I giggle. Clare always calms me. “Seriously, though. I haven't been away from Tyson for more than a few days in months. This is excruciating.”





“I know.” She reaches across the bed and entwines her fingers with mine. “We just have to hold on a little longer. It'll be fine, you'll see.”





I smile wanely. Famous last words.