Crescent (Book 1)

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Memories flood my dreams. Fragments of stories my mom would tell me as a child. Things my father taught me in our time hiding. Echoing promises from the creature in the woods. None of it makes sense. No two images fit together, no puzzle pieces match. Dreams scramble with truth, past battles future.

The night that Ceth comes back, the moon is full- so bright it casts shadows of lace doilies from the curtains onto the floor. Something garlicky and delicious wafts from the kitchen, and I know before Moira comes knocking that she's here to help me into my dress. The dress Ceth left for me.

It fits too perfectly. Lacing tightly at the small of my back, the dress flares at the waist in waves of crème-colored ruffles. My nipples pique through the top, and a dazzling crystal necklace hangs at the crest of the gauzy fabric. Moira ties my hair back, her lips pressed together tightly as she teases the last curl down to frame my face. Once finished, she escorts me to the library.

The balcony stands open, and that same bubble of warm salty air flutters toward me. Candles with wax spilling over the edges bedeck the path that leads to the ledge where Ceth stands, looking out over the snowy landscape. I stop dead in my tracks when I see a table set with silver for special occasions. Two blood-red roses sit in the middle of it, surrounded by plates with elegant silver chargers.

My heart beats so hard I'm sure he can hear it slamming against my ribcage. I know what's happening. I can't do anything to stop it. This is a proposal. He holds his hand out to me. Not a question, not an offer, not a request.

I walk to him. Ceth grips either of my shoulders, his hands like ice as he holds me in place. "You look positively delectable." His eyes glimmer as they roam over me, drinking me in, but I don't dare look at him. I sit, fisting my hands in my lap beneath the table.

"We agreed-"

"On an engagement." Ceth gives a brittle laugh and takes the seat across from me. "Eat your dinner. It's your favorite."

He snaps and the lids covering the meal lift themselves and reveal the feast of white-wine pasta and garlic knots beneath. It's the only dish I know how to make myself, and just the smell of it brings a fresh wave of pain. Rosie and I floundered away in the kitchen to make it together once. I don't want to know how he found out about it.

"What more do you want?" my voice is strangled.

Ceth's fingers purposefully fiddle with the cuffs of his tunic as he shrugs. 'I want you to put on the performance of your life- a guarantee that when people start arriving, they won't see your... resistance to me."

My heart is in my throat. "So we might as well seal the deal, right?"

"I thought I might... sweeten it." I raise a brow at him despite myself. "Eat," he counters. I watch him for any sign of a lie, but he grins, motioning to my plate again.

Picking up my fork, I eat like my life depends on it, like I'm unaware that he's enjoying dangling information over me by a thread. I swirl the pasta around my fork and take mouthfuls of food like I haven't been fed in years. He takes pride in slowly finishing his. He doesn't speak until he's licked the dish clean. My hands are numb from wringing them out.

"Put my ring on your finger and when all of this is over... you and your family can take the riches I provide you. I can give you a better life," his grin is nothing but cocky

Something burns inside me knowing that every good thing I ever had shriveled in that fire. My livelihood, my childhood home, all the pictures and memories burned to ash. Money, a clean slate. It would be something. It would be a start. My voice is strong: "I want more than your riches. You keep my family safe and comfortable like you promised. And you promise you won't parade me around like your little whore either."

The idea of it seems to please him, and he leans forward to rest his chin on his hands. "I'd pay you for it." I shoot him a look that can kill. He raises a brow and runs a hand through his golden locks of hair, seemingly considering it. A snap clears the table, and two boxes appear before me. One small, about the size of my palm. The other is nearly the length of the table itself. "Part of the deal," he elaborates, rounding the table. The golden ribbons unknot. He sets the smallest box in front of me.

Inside is a ring- a huge gaudy thing with a square-cut diamond surrounded by tiny stones agleam. It glitters like a star of its own as he slides it over my finger, pulling me from my seat. Seven blades of different size and design are situated in the larger box, giving me pause.

One of the blades, silver with a jade hilt, is adorned with jewels down the side. Two skinny black blades have intricate whorls carved into them with words in a language old enough I don't recognize it. My eyes pass onto the next dagger. It's golden with a ruby set into the holster of it. The last three are even more unique: one is a needle-point blade I expect can run the length of my back, another is a winding knife like that of a snake's coiled body at it's top, and the last is a sharp vicious thing with wings like that of a falcon at its hilt.

I reach for the serpentine blade, gripping it carefully. Only a fool would give blades as an engagement gift. Or just someone who's confident they won't be used against them.

"These should replace your butter knife quite nicely." I try to ignore his dig, the mention of the night I lost it. Laura. "There's one blade for every night of the gala. And, one for the welcoming dinner. I have yet to choose the gowns-"

My grip tightens on the hilt. "I'll choose them."

He looks over at me much like he did the night he caught me outside the castle grounds. As if he can see what my dress hides beneath it. "As long as Moira approves." I flinch when he grabs my ring hand. The diamond gleams as he kisses me gently, never breaking eye contact. "We'll make a great couple. Who knows? By the end of it, you might be begging to marry me."

I flash my teeth, ripping my hand away. Not in a million years.