Chapter 1

Ursula lay on the cold stone floor, dressed in a mud-spattered gown and bare feet. Her head throbbed painfully as she tried to get her bearings in the Shadow Realm prison.

Across from her, Kester sat on the edge of a low cot. His right fingers drummed on his knee in irregular twitches, like the movements of a wounded spider. When he saw Ursula staring, he quickly crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

This wasn’t the brash Kester she remembered. Something was wrong.

She winced at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Kester, before adding more strongly, “What’s happened while I’ve been in here?” He rose, wearing only a pair of dingy trousers, and crossed to where she lay on the floor. Shirtless, his muscular frame was leaner than Ursula remembered, and dirt darkened his face. It was hard to reconcile this haggard version of Kester with the cocky playboy she’d first met in London.

He extended a hand, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“I’d been hoping I might get a roommate,” he said. “It’s lonely around here.”

Ursula shook her head, trying to accept the fact that she and Kester were now Abrax’s prisoners. “How long have you been here?”

“On the moon? A couple of weeks.”

“But…, how? I thought you were on a special mission for Emerazel.”

“I was.” Kester frowned, lines about his green eyes creasing the handsome planes of his face. “But Abrax caught me when I tried to infiltrate Lucius’s dragon warren.”

“Balls,” said Ursula. Over Kester’s shoulder, she could see through the iron-barred window that gave a view of the lunar landscape beyond. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet and crossed to the window. So much had happened in the last hour—the fight in Lucius’s warren, Abrax attacking and abducting her. Dread crawled over her skin as she tried to process it all. She could hardly believe she was back here on the moon.

She sucked in a slow breath as she peered out. Beyond the bars, enormous cliff walls curved off in either direction—the walls of a caldera so massive the far side was barely visible. Below her nestled the city of oneiroi dwellings, stacked on top of each other like shoeboxes. And looming over everything was the violet crystal spire of Asta, where Nyxobas lived—God of Night. She shivered, thinking of how she’d nearly died more than once the last time she’d visited the Shadow Realm.

“Ursula?” Kester prompted.

“Right. You want to know what you’ve missed.” Ursula took a deep breath before turning to face him, then swallowed hard. “I followed you to Avalon, and ended up with Excalibur. Then I lost track of Zee in a dragon’s lair when the world’s creepiest incubus abducted me.”

“Abrax. Of course.” Kester studied me for a long time. “Why do I feel like there’s something important you’re not telling me?”

She cleared her throat, then mumbled, “I’m engaged to Bael, fallen lord of the Shadow Realm.”

His green eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m engaged to Bael!”

A chill fell over the room, Kester’s large eyes piercing the gloom. “Are you out of your mind? Bael leads the Shadow God’s legions. He was once the Sword of Nyxobas. He murdered his own wife long ago, and he’s second in command to Nyxobas himself. He is not your friend. He would rip your heart from your chest—or worse—if that was what Nyxobas asked of him.”

Ursula turned back to the window as she tried to decide how to best describe her relationship with Bael. Kester was wrong, of course. Bael wasn’t a threat. If he’d wanted to kill her, he could have done so any number of times. For an instant, she remembered how he’d pressed her against the wall of her room in Marazion, his teeth on her throat. He could have torn her jugular wide open, but he’d resisted the call of the old way. Whatever Bael’s motivations were, killing her wasn’t one of his priorities.

She turned back to Kester, crossing her arms. “Bael isn’t our enemy. He’s fighting Abrax too. He?—”

“Bael is ruthless and unmerciful.” Kester’s expression was incredulous. “I cannot emphasize this enough. You cannot trust him.”

“No,” said Ursula, shaking her head. “He’s changed. He’s lost his wings. Hothgar and the other lords want him dead.” Her mind burned with the memory of Bael kneeling over her on the dusty floor of the arena, as the lords brayed for her blood. She could practically feel the sand on her cheek, hear the jeering crowd and Bael’s strong voice as he asked for her hand. “He saved my life when he claimed me as his wife.”

Kester snarled, the sound rumbling through Ursula’s gut. “Don’t tell me you consented.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice at the time.”

Kester’s voice was as sharp as one of Cera’s obsidian blades. “Just because you’re in the Shadow Realm living amongst demons does not give you carte blanche to start marrying them.”

“I had to agree to his proposal to live, and we’ve been allied since. That’s all. Anyway, Emerazel seems okay with it.”

“Right, she was so happy with this situation that she broke the window in your portal room? Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” Kester’s voice was ice when he spoke again. “I have seen Bael in battle. He is lethal and remorseless. You can’t trust him. Ever.”

Ursula turned back to the view beyond the window. She remembered how the Shadow Realm had seemed when she first arrived—so foreign to her, so terrifying. Surely this was part of Kester’s problem. Fear of the unknown. And the solitary confinement. How long has he been imprisoned here? She wished more than anything she could get them both out of here.

The sound of footfalls turned her head—Kester pacing back and forth over the floor like a caged animal. Something was off about him.

She squinted, studying his gait. He moved awkwardly, favoring one leg. “What happened to your leg?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re limping.”

“Abrax was trying to get me to tell him where you were.”

“And he hurt your leg?”

“Yes.” Kester stopped pacing to sit again on his cot. Violet light from the window caught his face, and Ursula sucked in a breath. Kester wasn’t just dirty. His face was covered in a patchwork of bruises.

Instinctively she went to him, kneeling on the stone so she was at his level. He lowered his head, avoiding her gaze. This explains everything: the fear, the anxiety.

“It’s okay,” she said, gently brushing his hair to the side. The bruises ranged from deep purple to greenish yellow. This wasn’t the result of a single beating. Abrax had tortured him more than once.

“What did he do to you?”

“It doesn’t matter. He won’t do it again.”

“What do you mean? You’re still his prisoner.” Just like I am.

“He wanted you. Now he has you. He won’t have more questions for me.”

He winced as she traced her finger over his cheek. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?”

“I did at first, but then Abrax drained my fire. Starkey’s Conjuration doesn’t seem to work properly without it.”

“Oh right, I’d forgotten about that,” said Ursula. “Well, I still have my fire. I can heal you.”

Kester smiled for the first time since she’d entered the cell.

Slowly, she incanted Starkey’s Conjuration. She could feel Emerazel’s fire churn within her, then Kester’s face transformed, the skin lightening to a healthy pink. He leaned back against the wall, and let out a slow breath.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“No problem.”

Ursula sat on her haunches as she studied him. Resting his head against the gray stone of the wall, with his eyes closed, he looked more like the Kester she remembered. Rakishly handsome, even if his hair looked frightful.

“So why were you looking for Excalibur?” she asked.

“To fight the dragons,” said Kester absently, his eyes still closed. “It’s the only way to kill those bloody reptiles.”

“But the Lady of the Lake wouldn’t give it to you?”

“She would not.” There was just enough disappointment in his voice to make Ursula suspicious.

“So the only reason you were searching for the blade was to fight the dragons?”

“I had to do something,” said Kester, his eyes still closed.

Kester’s face remained all innocence, but Ursula plowed ahead. “The Darkling prophecy had nothing to do with it?”

Kester’s eyes flashed open. “Who told you about the prophecy?”

“Merlin.”

“That daft old bastard.” Kester sighed. “That stupid poem of his has caused more trouble than this supposed Darkling character.”

“You don’t believe it’s true?”

“I haven’t seen any evidence. Anyway, there are plenty of terrible people in the world. Whether one is the Darkling or not seems immaterial.”

Ursula caught his gaze before he had a chance to look away. “But I got the sword. You don’t think I’m the Darkling?”

Kester traced his thumb slowly over his lower lip, his gaze boring a hole into Ursula. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

Ursula sucked in a deep breath. “Merlin and Nimue sensed something strange about me. I frightened them. But the Darkling is supposed to be evil, and… Well, I really can’t remember if I was evil or not for the first fifteen years of my life, but for the past three, it didn’t get a lot worse than tutting loudly at people who walked slowly in Tube stations.”

“Until your engagement to a Shadow Lord, I’d never pegged you as evil. And what’s more, the Darkling is supposed to destroy the gods. I don’t suppose Emerazel would have given you her fire if that were in your destiny. She did sense something unusual in you. I just don’t know what it was.”

Ursula loosed a relieved breath. Of course Kester was right. Abrax was probably the Darkling. Abrax certainly seemed hell-bent on leading a rebellion against the gods. “I still have my fire. We could escape, fight our way out.”

Kester grimaced. “I tried that already, but Abrax has these creatures. They move like nothing I’ve ever seen?—”

“Golems. Good point. I barely managed to kill one of them.”

“You killed one?” Kester didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

“It’s not easy, but they can get over-confident and make mistakes. Fatal ones.”

“I want to know how you did it. I’m sure I can improve on the technique.”

Apparently not even Abrax can beat the cockiness out of him.

Before Ursula could tell Kester how she had goaded the golem into attacking, the door to the cell opened with a rush of frigid air.

Flanked by a pair of oneiroi, Abrax stood in the doorway, shadow magic flickering about him.