Page 29 of Gua rdian of Blood and Shadow

His eyes, when they met mine, held a depth of understanding that startled me. He’d always been perceptive, but there was something else there now—something that recognized the weight I carried.

“It wasn’t a permanent no,” I continued. “Just a ‘not now.’” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “The First Rite isn’t just dangerous in the sense that I could easily screw it up and kill you, because, you know, I’ve never done it before.” I shrugged. “I could get it right, or mostly right, or just kind of right, but the outcome—whether I get it right or wrong or somewhere in between—is irreversible. And I’d never forgive myself if I damned you to a tormented immortality because I wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough to guide you through the First Rite properly.”

A night bird called from the tree overhead, and I looked up.

When I glanced at Micah again, his expression was pensive. “I know you think I rushed into asking,” he said, “but I’ve actually been thinking about it since the attack in that basement. When that shifter tackled me—” His voice caught. “I saw how quickly things can change. How vulnerable I am like this. I’m scared, Sophie,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. “Not of dying, exactly. But of not living long enough to understand where I come from.” His gaze drifted toward the sky, lightened to a peachy gray. “I’ve spent my whole life not knowing who I really was. Now that I finally do, I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I can’t lose you—and Wes.” He waved a hand half-heartedly at the Moon Sanctuary. “All of this.”

The raw honesty in his words broke something loose inside me. For decades, I’d hidden behind masks—frightened girl, agreeable teen, cautious librarian, reluctant queen—each one a shield against vulnerability. But Micah deserved better than my carefully crafted half-truths.

I reached for his tapping fingers, covering his hand with mine. “When I gave you up,” I whispered, “it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Harder than losing Wes. Harder than running from Veris’s assassins or figuring out how to survive without Javier.” The admission scraped my throat raw. “I did it because I thought you’d be safer without me.”

He turned his hand beneath mine, his fingers curving around mine in a gesture that made me mourn all the hand-holding I’d missed during his childhood. “Maybe it was always going to end up this way, with the three of us together, here,” he said. “Maybe some connections can’t be severed, no matter how hard the world tries.”

I smiled faintly. “You sound like Wes. The eternal optimist.” I swiped away a tear that snuck past my lashes. “I just—I need you to understand that I’m not refusing the First Rite altogether. I’m waiting becauseIneed to be ready.”

Micah studied me with those eyes that were so like Wes’s it hurt. “I know. I get it. ButIneedyouto know that I’m ready when you are.”

We sat together as the sky lightened further, the elementals’ approach drawing ever nearer. But for this moment, in the quiet herb garden with Micah’s hand in mine, I was simply a mother, terrified and determined to protect her child.

17

“Mightaswelllookthe part,” I muttered, slipping into a dress for the first time in ages. It was deep crimson silk, and other than the dozens of teeny tiny buttons running down the back, it wasn’t all that different from the robe I’d taken to wearing when wandering the Moon Sanctuary at night, with long sleeves, a low V neckline, and a cinched waist. The skirt pooled around my feet, pretty, but impractical for anything other than fluttering around the manor like a bored Victorian lady or receiving guests. The silk whispered against my skin, making me feel far more elegant than I was.

“Stupid, dumb thing,” I muttered, twisting this way and that as I attempted to fasten the buttons, trying and failing to get a decent view in the standing mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

Javier appeared in the doorway, and I gave up on the buttons, turning my back to him and peering over my shoulder. “This dress was designed by a sadist,” I grumbled.

He huffed a laugh and approached. “I agree.” He trailed his fingertips down my bare back, making me shiver, then started on the buttons. His eyes met mine in the mirror as he worked. “You look like her,” he said quietly, his voice catching. “Like your mother.”

“I’m not her,” I replied, sharper than I’d intended. The weight of her ghost, her throne, her sacrifice and betrayal, pressed down on me.

“No. You areyou, my Luna.” His expression softened as he stood unnaturally still, assessing me with predatory intensity. “My queen.” He fastened the top button at the nape of my neck, then gathered my long, dark auburn curls off to one side and brushed a soft kiss under my ear. “Just one final touch,” he said, setting a silver circlet on my head. The lunar phases proudly displayed in gleaming moonstone on my forehead, a perfect match for the ring on my finger.

I raised one hand, touching the waxing crescent moon on the end. “I remember her wearing this.” I turned to him, accepting his offered arm. “Tell me what to expect. Why are they visiting now, and what do they want from us?”

As we walked through the corridors, Javier’s voice was low, meant only for me. “The House of the Stars has always been mercurial in their allegiances. They were willing to attempt to break the curse on the House of the Sun, but Diana refused, making it impossible. They remained neutral during the uprising, neither helping nor hindering the shifters’ attacks on our people.” Bitterness edged his words as he smoothed his thumb over the pulse point on my wrist, a gesture both possessive and reassuring. “But if the Shadow King truly threatens our world, they will need us as much as we need them.”

Through our bond, I felt his controlled anger at their past neutrality, tamped down beneath centuries of political savvy. From down the hall, I sensed Bastian making his way toward us.

He rounded the corner, dressed in formal wear that somehow made him look both more dangerous and more beautiful. He stopped in his tracks, his stare appreciative. “Damn, Soph,” he said, watching me like a kid in a candy shop. “I feel like one of those guys in a teen movie watching his prom date walk down the stairs.” He ran a hand through his dark curls, the only part of him that remained visibly untamed. “You look…” He licked his lips, slow and deliberate, letting me know exactly what he was thinking about doing to me.

“You clean up nice,” I said, stopping in front of him and offering him my lips. He kissed me thoroughly enough to ensure my lips would be rosier and swollen during the impending meeting. I didn’t mind. It gave me something else to think about besides theholy shitpanic swarming through my veins at the thought of receiving the Stars’ emissaries. I hadn’t been trained for this. I had no idea what I was doing.

“We’ll be with you the whole time, Soph.” Bastian brushed the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re not alone.”

I closed my eyes, soaking up the sense of Javier at my back and Bastian in front of me. “I know,” I said, smiling gently. I inhaled deeply, then blew out my breath and opened my eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

The formal reception hall seemed designed to awe and intimidate, with a soaring vaulted ceiling and massive stained-glass windows along one side that transformed the late morning light into a kaleidoscope of colors. Thane and Ash waited on the dais, taking positions on either side of the throne. Their eyes roamed over me as I approached, flanked by Javier and Bastian.

Vampires and their whispers filled the hall, their presence a testament to our House’s renewed strength. Imposing undead guardians stood at attention by every entrance, their silver crescent sigils glowing faintly on one side of their faces. I recognized many of them from our frantic escape from Seattle and the later infiltration of the Sun Keep. At least a dozen more undead vampires were spread throughout the room, alone or in pairs, their stillness unnerving.

Ghosts filled the remaining space, leaving only an aisle open down the center of the room leading to the dais and throne. The collective power of so many undead vampires created a palpable energy in the room, only amplified by the ghosts’ presence.

Wes and Amaya stood with Micah, Isador, and her trio of consorts near the dais, though only the other queen was aware of the ghosts’ presence. Micah looked incredibly uncomfortable but determined not to stick out like a sore thumb, and the three-piece suit that had clearly been tailored for him helped. His eyes met mine, offering encouragement through his obvious nervousness.

Isador looked like she should have been the one on the throne, not me. Her rejuvenated beauty commanded attention, her copper eyes seeming to glow in the filtered light. She inclined her head slightly as I passed, the gesture conveying both respect and subtle caution.

Across the aisle from her, Doris and Helene had taken up positions with their own small retinue of consorts. Youthful twin vampires with identical watchful expressions flanked Doris, while Helene clutched the arm of a more mature consort whose protective stance suggested centuries of devotion.

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