Women in the small kingdom of Aeriana are disappearing.
Iris Daniels, a budding painter in the East Territory, is trying to keep her head down. In a kingdom filled with abilities, music, and Destined love, Iris is determined to build a career out of...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"... body matching Her Highness Driana Antonov has been recovered [REDACTED]. Cause of death has been ruled [REDACTED]. All autopsy photos are stored in file number [REDACTED] located in [REDACTED]."
—Confidential report presented to King Demitri Ivan Nicolai Antonov, Second Palace
Wylan parked outside a Stylent hotel on the west side of East City. Although a valet stood outside under the glow of a warming station, he bypassed the young gentleman and drove around the block to the parking garage in the back. The thin, striped blockade opened automatically to let them in as they got close. He took the garage to the middle, where cars of various styles and sizes filled the space.
Dimly, Iris wondered why a government agent didn't get any type of fancy parking. She'd have thought that there were some perks to the job.
As they got out though, and she thought about it more, she realized it was better to be hidden among the crowd than singled out. Which was most likely what Wylan had been thinking as he picked a parking spot.
A cool breeze swept through the threads of her hoodie as Wylan led her to a bright yellow door with a large 3 on it.
Iris frowned as he bypassed the elevator and headed to a staircase. "We're not taking the elevator?"
Wylan shook his head. The lights in the staircase were a murky yellow. Just enough to be considered "lit" without it being questionable.
They must really want people to take the elevators.
"There are cameras in the elevator," Wylan explained. Before she could ask, he answered. "We don't need to avoid every camera, but until Kit disables the system, I don't want to take any chances."
He took them up the stairs to the seventh floor. Step by step. Iris wheezed, her throat tinged with iron by the time they arrived. She huffed as he brought her through another door, this one spitting them out on a glass-enclosed skyway bridge.
Iris' breath caught in her throat as she peered through the glass, past the outline of herself, to the city below. Even at this hour, cars sped along on the road underneath them, the street lights glancing rhythmically off shiny painted steel. Further down, the sidewalks were awash with colors. Bouts of red, blue, blurs of neon green from old signage along the street, and uneven lights from inside the buildings cast a picture of beautiful chaos.
Beautiful chaos.
She wanted to paint it with a ferocity that made her fingertips itch. Wanted to let her hands map the colors, to recreate this tiny piece of wonder hidden among daily routine.
