Crescent (Book 1)

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The blood is still warm, slick, the scent iron-strong in my nose. It drips down my arms in tendrils, landing in the snow at my feet.

I can't remember what happened. I can see it, see the bodies laying in the snow- cooling, muscles going rigid at my feet. I can taste the blood in the air and smell the decay. But, I can't remember what happened. How I'd gotten here. Why there's blood on my hands.

Maybe it was you, a voice echoes. It was you.

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I take long enough bathing that breakfast is cold when I enter the kitchen. A plate of biscuits and thinly sliced meats sits in my usual spot but Moira and Nic are nowhere to be seen. I eat quickly knowing I don't have long before Saren comes to find me.

"Saren is waiting for you in the library." I jump at the voice, wiping crumbs from my mouth before I turn. Janice, the head cook, is bent over the counter, kneading a tray full of dough. She frowns at me, lines forming in her plump chin. "Ya eat enough?"

Wiping any remaining crumbs from my suit, I nod. "Yes. It's delicious- I'm just... hungry."

Janice is still frowning, but she wipes away her unruly hair with the back of her hand. She reaches for an apple from one of the baskets on the counter before offering it to me. "She's known for turning any stomach leaden, and... my cookin is a lil' heavy," she explains.

I walk to her, smiling as I take the fruit. "Thank you..." She pats my cheek with a clean hand and goes back to dusting the counter with flour before kneading her knuckles into the dough again.

Though snow still falls, the sun shines through the bay windows when I enter the library. Saren's feet are propped on a desk, and her knee bounces with impatience until I sit at the desk across from her. She reads off one of the book titles: "Jenkins' History of the Realms." History? "You're getting a break from shifting. Don't get used to it. What do you already know?"

"About as much as I knew about the gods before you told me," I mumble, propping my head on my arm. I thumb through one of the worn leather books. Each of them is as thick as my arm.

Saren spins her chair in a circle before standing. She absently adjusts the blade sheathed at her waist. "Well... I don't expect you to take notes, but you should know these things. I suggest you get to it." A wave of magic sends her dissolving into the rows of bookshelves behind me. I'm acutely aware of the guards posted outside the library doors, but I push the thought of them aside and leaf through the book again. Reading is better than the alternative, and even I can't curb my curiosity.

The books detail much of what I've already learned. In the pages, there are maps of Crescent, of the massive sea surrounding it. To the west, the realms extend past the edges of the map. To the east, there's nothing but pure cerulean sea and painted ships with sails fluttering on an imaginary wind.

The sun is already setting by the time I stand to go to dinner. I huff, rubbing at a crick in my neck as I take the flight of stairs down the levels of the library, but I stop when I feel it: A pull just like in the woods when I tracked Ceth. I follow it to a space on the second level that's carved out. Oak desks and comfy reading nooks fill this level, along with a single glass display case in the middle.

I pause in front of it. Five books are displayed inside- the only ones of their kind: The covers are a soft glacial blue decorated with Latin script in crimson red. The books are probably the oldest in the room, but they still glean as if they've been smoothed clean. Magic thrums in the air, telling me a spell locks them inside the glass. A spell I can't get past.

Someone's coming, a voice whispers suddenly, and I jump in search of it. But the library's empty. I'm alone. Doors open below, and I know without looking that it's Ceth. I wander to a shelf past the case, feigning interest in a random book I pluck from the stacks as I calm my heart.

His voice is in my ear less than a moment later: "I see things have gone well today." I let the cover of my book slam shut before turning to him. He's close enough that his breath fans my lips, forcing me a step back. He grins at the movement. "I thought you might enjoy a break."

I enjoy it far more than shifting, if that's what he means. I motion to the room around us. "I didn't realize you have such an extensive collection."

"I loved books growing up." I quirk a brow. "Poetry mostly. Anything with prose."

"What changed?" I ask, though I'm doing my best to seem casual. Something tells me not to ask about the books in the case.

"I grew up," he tucks his hands into his pockets. Another non-answer. But I notice his eyes drift past me toward the display case. "Not worth the time anymore."

I glance over him suddenly. Always perfectly composed with jewels fit for a king, a cleanly cut tunic, and tightly laced boots. Someone who takes time and care to fit the part of a high lord. Equal parts cunning and cruel. In my gut, I feel he's hiding something. There's a reason the books are spelled.

I add it to the growing list of things to look into. "Does being here mean that lessons are done for the day?"

Just above his collar, I notice a spot of red, large enough that I should have noticed it earlier. I know that red. I dream of that red: blood. It's not his. He catches me staring, teeth flashing in a grin as he swipes the spot away with his thumb. "Yes. Lessons are done for the day." A dismissal. He holds out his arm, and for the sake of not fighting, I take it. "Just wait until you learn to dance. You'll be begging for me to save you."

Not if I can help it. He whisks us away to the grand hall. I thoroughly ignore him for most of dinner, but he doesn't seem to notice. I suspect that past the idle talk, he wants something. He always does, but he doesn't ask anything of me. It's almost as if the comfort of another body is what he wants after all. When he stands to walk me to my room, I'm glad that it's finally over.

I know before I even move to lock the door shut in his face that he'll hold it open with ease. And he does, shoving his boot between the door and the jam, smiling as I try to force it shut. With no avail.

"We're not very familiar for lovers, you know," he teases, and I immediately tense. My muscles shake with effort and the door opens an inch. "I want more from you."

"Does more not cost more?" I grit out, still pointlessly trying to close the door.

My comment elicits a laugh. An actual laugh- like we're nothing more than old friends reminiscing life. "Only if I were paying for you, my dear. And I'm not." His eyes dip to my mouth, and he forces the door open even further. "You can have your little visits to the servants quarter for now, but you'll play your part when the ambassadors arrive. And I expect you'll even learn to like it too." His eyes slowly rake over my body, his voice dropping an octave. "Meet me outside my room tomorrow morning. I have a surprise for you."

I shake from trying to keep the door from opening any further, and he uses it to his advantage, stealing a sloppy kiss before stepping backwards. The force sends me slamming into the wood as it jams shut. A scream bubbles in my throat when I hear his laugh echo down the hall, but I stifle it. I won't give him the satisfaction.

I go to bed angry, and I suspect that I will for every night to come.