Here we go! Just a heads up: there are nine volumes planned for the first book in this series, so this will be the second to last. Hopefully we'll see some things come to a head over the next two, and I can't wait to hear all of your thoughts.
Thanks for staying so supportive throughout impromptu hiatuses (hiatusi) and whatnot. Also, quick note re: Legacies. LOVE the show, but I plotted this way before it aired and these characters are in no way the same.
Enjoy this little tidbit. More to come!
Prologue
More Dead Than Alive
Seven years ago ...
"Deegan Gardner …"
The crowd applauded loudly, whooping and cheering. As he clapped along half-heartedly, Aeron wondered if their hands were getting sore yet. The graduate shook Alaric's hand, then Caroline's, accepted his diploma, and joined the line of seats.
"Celia Hodge … Brett Hao … Elsie Ingalls …"
Almost there. Aeron gripped the edge of his seat, feeling the wood creak. Beside him, Marcel splayed his knee out to knock it into Aeron's. He was as tense as Aeron, eyes bright and jaw tense.
"Hope Mikaelson …"
Rebekah and Kol's shrieking had Aeron flinching, so he clapped faster to cover his discomfort. Marcel, Klaus, and the rest of the Mikaelson clan all shot to their feet as Hope walked across the stage to accept her diploma. She looked confident, but Aeron could feel her anxiety. He withdrew from the bond before he answered it with his own.
Eyeing her family with slight embarrassment, Hope took up her seat, clutching her diploma in her hands.
The ceremony proceeded, but Aeron didn't pay it much attention. Hope was graduating—she was free of the school, and for the summer she'd be travelling with Rebekah. Louis wasn't around anymore. Everything was fine.
Everything should be fine.
The magic itching under Aeron's skin strongly disagreed.
#
Now …
Lyn winced as the cart rattled over another dip in the cobbled path. "Easy," she hissed at the fae gripping the reins up front. He wasn't very good at this particular job, but then he'd only been given it because he was a supposedly trustworthy guard. No one else from the official stables could be counted on to get them where they needed to go with discretion.
Cauldron, how Lyn itched to just fly them there.
Readjusting the blanket over Hope, Lyn pressed a finger to the unconscious woman's wrist. The pulse was weak but still there, and Lyn hadn't stopped listening to the heartbeats since they left Under the Mountain. Hope's, slowing and stuttering, and the baby's, squelching quickly. Lyn hadn't heard enough unborn heartbeats to know if this rate was normal, but it had been steady for hours.
The child would be all right so long as Hope was. But since the scent of dead, burned flesh curled from her still, her healing factor not doing anything to curb the acid's effects, Lyn's confidence was flagging.
"Can you not go faster?" she asked the guard at the front. He wasn't in uniform—had foregone that in favour of cotton breeches and a heavy cloak, bare-chested for some ungodly reason.
"We're almost there," he grit back, clearly tiring of her attitude. She'd been snarking at him ever since he picked her up on the outskirts of the Court, as close as they could be winnowed to their destination.
Trying to expel her impatience on a breath, Lyn checked Hope again. She wanted to unpeel the makeshift bandages, check the burns from Risa's potion, but it would do no good to expose the damaged flesh to the day's air, to the dust spinning on the cool evening breeze.
Lyn could only sit there, praying it was only superficial. That it would heal, however ugly it became. That Hope would survive. That the child would survive.
So Lyn curled her fingers over Hope's wrist, focusing on the pulse, and prayed that the healers of the Spring Court could save the most annoying woman she'd ever met.
Cauldron knew what would happen if they didn't.
Reviews are love!