Chapter 1

Sneak Peak of Gatherdawn…

Zenith

Whispers of unrest stir me from the slumber of ages. Angry voices. Threats. My body is heavy, stiff, and numb, but my mind awakens eager, hungry, and stretching. Ready to serve and protect.

The stone hums a lullaby—hush, go back to sleep—and I will, but not for long.

Anash

"Presenting, Anash Vari of the Tierney Blood Lineage," a voice booms at my right.

I fight the instinct to flinch as a hush descends over the grand ballroom. Fae and mixlings alike bow their acknowledgment, all but the others of royal blood, who aren't required to bend for my presence.

I'm alone, no mate at my side. Too old for a familial escort and too inexperienced to be accustomed to the stares of everyone's eyes at once.

As I step forward, sparkling yellow light blinds me.

A powerful desire to hide my tail rises, tightening my throat. But I've already decided not to, so it waves behind me, curling out from twin decorative flaps sewn in both my pants and jacket to allow the shameful appendage to be seen by all. Best to get this part over with rather than try to disguise it and waste my time being fearful of discovery.

Besides, it's no secret to the court at Lemossin that the Tierney queen has a bastard half-breed son. Why hide the only outward sign of my forbidden incubus heritage when they already know about the demon lurking inside?

Even under pressure, I keep my chin tipped up and my gaze steady to scan the crowd. At the far end sits Queen Aurielle and her consort, both of them ensconced in thrones upon a stately dais overlooking the festivities.

Musicians play on the sidelines, providing a lilting tune for the couples twirling on the marble dance floor. Enormous gargoyles, much bigger than the few I've met in Tierney, guard the corners in their stone forms.

One of them returns my gaze, his polished stone eyes never quite transforming, though I sense him looking. He's handsome. I smile and continue my survey.

All the glittering gowns, sparkling suits, and glinting gemstone jewelry overwhelm me. Everything shines. Polished and perfect. I must look dull by comparison with my ordinary blond hair, pale skin, and the sheer, flightless wings of a mixling.

At least I'm dressed as dapper as the others in my midnight-blue jacket with gleaming silver trim and lace and a high collar that itches my throat. The urge to squirm rises, but I know better. I keep my back straight and my composure intact, while wishing I could turn around and make the trip home at once.

No one in this fancy palace will want me. I don't know what we were thinking, coming here.

Ah, well, at least the gargoyle is lovely to gaze upon.