Crescent (Book 1)

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I only sleep occasionally, and when I do, I always dream. I dream of a sea of faces. I see Rhiannon's tawny skin and frost-white hair. I see Audelia's wrist-full of golden bracelets and Thayer's dark sprawling tattoos. I dream of Gabriel. Of his knowing looks and his dark eyes and his strong hands and the shock I felt when the runes flickered brilliantly beneath our fingertips.

Most of all, I dream of red. Red like rust. Red like cherry wood tables. Red like veins leaking droplets onto a slate of silver. "More red," Ceth says in my dreams. But I dream that he isn't talking about the red of roses or dresses or pretty decorative things. He's talking about the red of death. Death carried on the backs of wings.

A single bird, wings frozen in flight. Blood and ash. Silver and bone. Every night, I dream of red. Alliances to be made. To be broken. I dream of a world broken in two.

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No one has noticed that the book is missing from the case. After the third sleepless night, I finished it, spending hours poring over its every detail.

There are some things I didn't know about the gala. The realms celebrated the winter solstice once every decade. On this night, the longest night of the year, the realms offer gifts to the gods in celebration. Every century, the solstice aligns with the thirteenth full moon of the year, and on this night, their magic is replenished.

Tradition has changed, of course. The event has become a week-long celebration of each of the realms and their loyalty to the gods. From what I can tell, the only tradition that remains is the adorning of the six blades. The blades are now worn by whoever host the gala. Previously, it was Nexus. This time, Vervale. Next, Ireodran.

I sigh as I snap the book closed, tucking it in my lap as I spin my mug of tea in my palm. In the lowlight of the study, I can see the new towers of books Ceth has left for me across the room. Only a few weeks away, he reminded me. The thought puts me on edge, and even with the promise of keeping busy until then, I still dread planning the event.

There are four more books in the case, I remind myself. There's just one problem preventing me from getting the others: Gabriel. I know that if I ask, he'll get them for me. But, after the vault... After Ceth's temper... Facing him again feels impossible.

Before I lose my nerve, I stand. I'm only half-surprised when I find Gabriel sitting in his usual spot in the library, a book open in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. His impenetrable face falls away just enough for me to see him smile as I cross the floor toward him. I deposit my arms-worth of items on the desk, lighting the lamp on the corner. I'm a comfortable distance away as I unfurl my stack of gala-planning papers.

I do my best to seem casual, sipping from my own mug as I feign interest in what I'm supposed to be doing. He watches me for a long time though I try my best to ignore it. I'm avoiding him. He knows it. I know it. But I can never admit it out loud. For a few moments, I hope neither of us will say anything, but his silence is worse than any amount of questions he can ask me.

I sit upright and from the handful of things I lugged in with me, I dig out the book and let it slap onto the table between us. There's a small grin on his face now, one that makes me feel a little less on edge. "Finish it already?"

I hope that the gleam in my eye tells him I read every word. "Feel free to put it back before someone realizes it's missing."

"We wouldn't want that," his smile is genuine, shoulders relaxed as he snags his book and flips it open again. A moment later when another volume lands on my desk with a smack, I know he's swapped it for another from the case.

I'm unable to control myself now. I beam at him. "Thank-"

He holds a finger to his mouth as if reminding me to be careful what I say aloud. Or maybe he's just teasing me. "It doesn't come free."