Crescent (Book 1)

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We appear beneath the sweeping willow tree I'd seen when we first left Vervale. Up the sloping hill before us, torches light the path toward a manor's entrance. A tangle of bushes circle the exterior of it, flowers blooming beneath the moonlight. No high walls or stone bridges. No snow. No Ceth. No Moira. No Nic.

Something inside me aches, but the sound of laughter grounds me. Off the path and closer to the fields of swaying greenery, there's a greenhouse that reflects prismed moonlight onto a landing. A group of five people sit around a wrought-iron table with various assortments of teas, coffee, and a tray full of snacks.

I recognize Thayer first, dressed in a cloak that exposes the web of tattoos across his torso. Then there's the two other males who portaled us out of Vervale. Rin, the blond, now lounges with his legs propped on the table, and Weylin still wears his choice of black and silently broods across from the two women.

Harlow, the same blue-eyed woman who had somehow transported us across realms, now wears her billowing white hair up. She casually paces with a hand behind her back, frowning as the other woman avidly debates with Rin: "Only a child would be gullible enough to fall for that," the woman quips, and I can hear the rumble of Rin's laugh even from a distance away.

"At what age does a boy stop being considered a child? He's barely 18."

A grin overtakes the woman's face as she stands, slurping a sip of tea, and then rounds the table to drop a sugar cube in the cup by Rin's foot. "You're two hundred and you still act like a toddler. I'd say it's a relative scale." Rin freezes, and she pats his hand with a devious smirk.

Even Weylin snorts a laugh at that, and I turn to find Gabriel smiling. Really smiling. The rain still soaks our clothes through, but the balmy breeze is a welcome cold. I survey them again, the sounds of their bickering and laughing blurring together. My stomach knots at the strangeness of it. The teasing, the warmth.

"Whatever you decide," Gabriel says low enough for me to hear. "You should know you'll find no judgment here for it." Whatever you decide. To stay or go. To fight or relent.

Perhaps foolishly, I believe him. I know that no matter what, he'll never force me. Even knowing that, I can't hold his gaze for long. We walk a trail in the grass that leads right past the meandering brook beside the greenhouse where a fresh pot of tea steeps on the table. The smoky smell wafts toward me.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Rin says and my head whips towards him as we approach. But he isn't talking to me. He's looking at Gabriel- Lord Caldwell- with a grin much like a crescent moon. "Highness," he greets.

Gabriel lifts an obnoxious finger at him. "Arguing about your age again?" Gabriel bows his head to Thayer and Weylin in greeting, smiling as the other woman crosses back to her side of the table. "Ignore him. He's just mad you didn't bake him anything like last time."

The woman's coffee-colored eyes light up. She flicks a dark hand and a tin of freshly-baked scones appears. They smell richly of lemon, lavender, and vanilla- it's hard not to keep inhaling. Her eyes turn to me suddenly, and the tension in my back returns. "Gunpowder?"

I stare at her, blinking. I'm hearing things now. Everyone looks at me expectantly now, awaiting an answer. Dumbfounded, the word falls out of my mouth: "What?"

"Tea," she motions to the four separate pots. "You look like you'd enjoy gunpowder." She smiles and motions for me to take one of the three empty seats at the table. She pours a steaming mug of coppery liquid for me, filling a saucer with scones from the tin. "Xiomara," she introduces. "By now, you've already met Weylin- spymaster and espionage extraordinaire." He's probably more than fitting of the title. "Harlow- one of the last Seekers in all six realms. Gabriel's second. You've also probably met this asshole," she lazily gestures to Rin as she bites into her scone. "Gabriel's third. Battle Strategist and Lord Commander."