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...
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"The Royal Family returned from Sarias today. They arrived at the First Palace early this morning. Her Highness Driana, in a gold dress, lead Her Majesty off the jet, a proud smile on her face..."
—STR News, Recording found in storage at STR Newsroom, Redlian
Mountain Ridge was an hour's drive from East City. Their "long way" around doubled the trip. Camila, their driver, only stopped halfway through to switch cars. At that point, they stopped in a park in one of the northern subdivisions of Mountain Ridge and shifted over to the gray sedan waiting there, keys in the front seat.
Iris was asleep on her feet. She hardly remembered switching the cars, nor did she care.
The exhaustion pulled at her limbs like heavy anchors. As they transferred cars, her steps were hardly more than heavy slides. When she climbed in the back of the new ride, she felt more numb than anything else.
At this point, it didn't matter if these people were government agents, kidnappers, or all of the above. She just wanted a bed and a pillow. She'd even settle for a patch of grass and some peace and quiet.
"You can sleep," Wylan told her as they got into the next car. "We're still about a half hour out. Plenty of time to rest."
She thought about it. She really did.
But she'd never had anyone other than the Daniels look out for her. Even though they'd proven more than once their willingness to save her, how could she know these people wouldn't still kill her the moment her back was turned?
Some of what she was thinking must've been clear on her face, because Wylan nodded. "I get it. I do."
As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, Aeriana wasn't the safest kingdom. They, like their neighbors, had their fair share of accidents, homicides, rapists. And she was a young woman who lived alone. She hadn't stayed safe so far by ignoring her gut when it told her the best way to stay alive.
As they got back on the road, Thad turned the car radio on low. A familiar pop song flowed through the speakers. Kamree Philips, her mind supplied, Dreams Ain't Nothin' But Heartbreaks. A Sarian artist.
The song conjured an image in her mind's eye. It was one of her earlier paintings. A mixed media piece made mostly of watercolors and acrylics. Blues and dripping purples, and among them, a woman's face. The painting had been a somber one. She connected with the woman on a deep level, as she did with most pieces. And while she'd blasted this same song over and over as the piece formed, she'd found herself fighting back tears throughout the process.
Something about the woman in the piece had her heart aching. She'd never figured out why, as the woman had been an image she'd plucked from thin air.
