Chapter 1
I hoisted my kill over my shoulder, grunting under its weight. The cougarin, a sizable adult male, was my largest catch yet. It would provide enough meat to nourish my Matriarch Sylva and little Kinara for at least two moons, plus offer us something worthy to trade at the market. Although winter was still a while off, I was eager to secure new furs for my Matriarch Sylva and Adelina. After a week of stealthy stalking, I couldn’t help but sport a lopsided grin as I stepped into my hometown, Ember Hollow. Nestled at the base of Ashen Peak, our village was constantly cloaked in fine dust from the mines, and today was no different. Ash coated the rocky path, speckling the tips of my hunting boots. It was a nuisance I’d grown accustomed to—living here, you learned to embrace the grit that clung to your very being; it seeped into your ears, nostrils, and everything else. In Verdant City, the opulent capital of Embergate Crossing, you could spot an Ember Hollow resident from miles away. We billowed dust with every step, and damn were we proud of it. The folks around here were hard workers; we never just lounged about. “Nice kill, Aveline!” Nathor shouted from his post at the guard gate entrance. I nearly melted at the sight of him—he was one of the most striking lads in all of Ember Hollow. With sandy-blond hair, hazel eyes, and that sharply defined jawline, he had my stomach twisting into knots. I flashed him a goofy grin. “You coming for dinner later? Bring your folks.” He nodded, a teasing smile forming as he pursed his lips. “Wouldn’t miss it.” We were two decades removed from the Great Famine, but the stories echoed in our families. My parents instilled in us how to hunt, grow food, and even butcher our kills. Traditionally, men hunted while women tended to crops, but with my father gone, that was no longer an option. They also taught us kindness—always share your bounty when times are good. And times were indeed good now; this cougarin was more than enough. The heft of the animal began to stab painfully between my shoulders, its blood dripping down my shirt from the arrow wound in its neck. I couldn’t wait to drop this off for Matriarch Sylva and scrub clean. As I passed the market stalls, nodding at hardworking vendors, I admired the vibrant garlands of flowers strung across the village for May Day. I’d worried I wouldn’t return in time to celebrate our beloved festival of love. But here I was, back just in the nick of time. If I hurried, I might even make it to the Blossom Pavilion to join the festivities. With renewed urgency, I quickened my pace, rounding the corner to reach Matriarch Sylva’s hut. We were simple folk, living a simple existence—thatched huts, the refreshing river, sprawling potato fields, and bustling coal mining; that was Ember Hollow. The ash from the mines fertilized our soil, making us renowned for our hearty potatoes and sweet tubers. When I was fifteen winters old, I’d visited Verdant City, and I was left slack-jawed for the entirety of the three-day trip. It was the most beautiful city in all of Embergate Crossing, home to our king and his ancestors. Verdant City overflowed with riches—those opulent jade, gold, and ruby decorations surpassed anything I had ever seen before. The roads were laid in brick, the buildings crafted from white stone, and at night, the city sparkled like an unclaimed jewel. The mead poured liberally, food stalls brimmed with delicacies, and the streets buzzed with Drakon Kin. I'd never encountered so many powerful Drakon Kin in my life. They lived in droves near their king, King Drake Aldrin, drawing on his strength like moths to a flame. These Drakon Kin could wield incredible magic—healing powers, fiery breath, and unimaginable strength. But transforming fully into dragon form? That honor belonged solely to the king himself, the mightiest of the Drakon Kin. In Ember Hollow, we were quite the odd assortment. While technically in Embergate Crossing and under Drakonis Rex’s rule, we were a blend of various folk—humans, Drakon Kin, elves, fae, and even a few stray wolven. Those with mixed heritage or diluted magic often found themselves discarded from their original territories, forming our little colony. I had a fully human mother whose family defected from Twilight Domain when she was young, and my father was a mix of human and one-tenth Drakon Kin. While that didn’t grant him any flashy fire powers, it let him lift hefty rocks in the mines, ensuring a good life for my mother and me—until he died nine years ago… “Bless the Maker, look at that kill!” Matriarch Sylva cried from the doorway of our hut, jolting me from my memories of my father. Every muscle in my body screamed from fatigue, and I reeked of blood and fur, but seeing my Matriarch Sylva’s joy made me crack a goofy smile. “We’ll need to let out the waistband on my trousers by next week,” I teased, and little Kinara peeked out, eyes wide as saucers. “Cougarin stew for dinner!” she squealed in delight. That elicited a chuckle from me. The baked potatoes and greens were filling, but nothing could rival Mama’s revered cougarin stew. I stepped inside our cozy home, crossing the freshly swept floor, and moving past the kitchen towards the back porch. Matriarch Sylva already had the butcher table and knives laid out. She knew I wouldn’t come back empty-handed—her unwavering faith in me filled me with pride. With a grunt, I dropped the beast onto the table, rolling my neck to ease the ache. “You did great, Aveline,” Matriarch Sylva praised as she stroked my hair, then scrunched her nose. “But you smell like death!” Kinara erupted in a fit of giggles, and I leaped from the spot, pretending to lurch towards her like a clumsy zombie from Necromere. She let out a delightful shriek of terror, and that was my cue to burst into fits of laughter. “Alright, enough of the spooking! Go wash up—it's May Day!” Matriarch Sylva scolded gently. May Day. I sighed at the thought. All the single boys and girls in town would stand blindfolded in the village square, then stumble towards each other. Whoever they reached first was who they kissed. It was a cherished tradition in Ember Hollow—frightening yet undeniably thrilling. Legend had it that whomever you kissed on May Day would become your forever partner. At eighteen winters old, this would be my first May Day; last year, I had been too ill from bad berries to join in the fun. I reached up, brushing my fingers over my lips as my heart raced at the thought of Nathor kissing me. Of course, the rules dictated we weren’t allowed to peek, but some of the boys would let their blindfolds slip, gravitating towards the girls they desired. I wanted Nathor. Upon entering the shared bedroom with Kinara, I grabbed a clean tunic and trousers. Matriarch Sylva had long given up insisting on skirts and dresses. Ever since my father passed away nine years ago, I had taken on the role of the family hunter, and trying to do that in a dress was just plain ridiculous.
Chapter 2
Adelina was cowering under her bed furs, probably convinced I’d smear her with cougarin blood. I crept closer, looming over her like a shadow. After a moment, lulled into believing I’d vanished, she hesitantly pulled down the covers, only to let out a banshee-like scream the moment our eyes met, yanking the furs back up around her. I burst into a fit of delighted laughter. “Aveline!” my Matriarch Sylva snapped, her voice slicing through my merriment. “Fine,” I huffed, my laughter sputtering as I tried to stifle it. Sometimes the urge to tease my little Kinara bubbled up inside me like a pot on the verge of boiling over. But with the weight of responsibility pressing down on me as the eldest, I had to grow up way too fast for my liking. We had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, so I knew better than to complain about my lot. “Oh,” I called back to my mother while heading out to Nayla’s Oasis. “I invited Nathor for dinner,” I said with a casual ease that masked my excitement. A dinner invite on May Day was no trivial matter. The corners of my mother’s lips curled into a sly grin, one that said she knew exactly what I was up to. “To be nice! To share the bounty,” I rushed to clarify, heat creeping into my cheeks. It was customary after a fruitful hunt to invite a guest to the feast, a gesture meant to bring good fortune. She knew that. But more importantly, it was a subtle nudge to invite potential suitors over for dinner on May Day, a chance for families to meet and start warming up to the idea of marriage. “Of course, dear,” she responded in a honey-coated tone, and I shot her a scowl. I was eighteen winters old, and the thought of taking a husband loomed on the horizon. Nathor was a solid choice; he had a respectable position in the village, and unlike most boys around, he didn’t flinch at my hunting exploits with the men. Even when I married, I’d still need to provide for Adelina and Matriarch Sylva. He understood that. Shaking off my mother’s knowing smile, I dashed down the narrow alley wedged between Mr. Korban’s apothecary shop and Madam Orlin’s bakery, stepping into Nayla’s Oasis. “Oh, child!” Nayla cried out, pinching her nose as I walked in. “You reek like a dead ratin! You’ll need your own soaker tub with extra sandalwood oil.” I beamed at her. Nayla was like the village grandmother, sharp-tongued and fierce. She cared for us all, dispensing truth like a healer with remedies, no matter how it stung. For everyday washings, I managed with a heated bucket of water back in our hut. But after a week of hunting, I craved Nayla’s soaker tub and her precious soap stones. I trailed after her into the women’s washroom, weaving past the group soakers and nodding to familiar faces. Mrs. Beezle and Mrs. Haney were deep in town gossip, voices animated as they discussed Beren needing to cut down on his drinking and Mrs. Namal needing to keep her husband in check. The top layer of their bathwater was murky with cinder soot, a stark reminder of the week’s labors. As Nayla stepped into one of the private soaker rooms, hidden behind a thatch wall, I placed my clean clothes on the stool beside the small one-person tub. Cinder soot and dirt were acceptable for communal soakings, but blood and animal guts? That was a hard no. Nayla, at least sixty winters old, had hands gnarled from a winter bone disease. Her silver hair always twisted into a bun atop her head was a sight as familiar as the sunrise. She turned the tap, and water gushed forth, filling the tub with a comforting rush, steam rising to the ceiling like clouds on a warm day. Nayla was one of the few in the village fortunate enough to have running water, gifted by the natural hot springs below her shop. Her great-great grandfather had crafted the system with a blacksmith’s precision, and this bathhouse had been a cornerstone of our community for generations. “I’ve had to raise my prices,” Nayla said, her eyes glinting with a mix of concern and sadness. “This war Queen Selene has stirred up at the border is messing with my supplies of soap stones and perfume oils from the elves in Archhaven.” I nodded, my stomach twisting with worry. “How much?” “Two jazelle coins or an acceptable barter,” she replied. Two jazelle coins? It used to be just one. I’d caught wind of the trouble caused by the Queen of Shadows affecting our trade routes but hadn’t thought it would come to this. That wicked woman seemed intent on war wherever she roamed. “I can give you the jazelle coins, or I just brought down a full-grown male cougarin. You can see my mom after closing to pick the best cut,” I offered, determination fresh in my voice. Her eyes sparked with interest. “I’ll take the meat instead, thank you kindly,” she said, and I nodded as she slipped out of the room. Cougarin was a gamey delicacy, packed with flavor and remarkably lean. Elkin might be the only meat more coveted, and I felt confident I could leverage this kill to snag my mother a new dress for the changing of the seasons festival come fall. Stripping off my clothes, I let them fall into a dusty pile at my feet and stepped into the welcoming warmth of the water. A groan of bliss slipped past my lips, and I heard a few ladies snicker outside the thin wall. But who cared? The relief was otherworldly. As I sank deeper, I noticed a sting on my back; I must’ve scraped myself on a rock during the hunt. The ache was minor but evident. The water flowed steadily from the tap as I dreamt of having hot water in our hut every night. I’d revel in long soaks, wash our clothes in warmth, and dive my face into steam in the mornings to wake myself up with renewed vigor. I sighed, intoxicated by contentment. “Coming in,” Nayla announced as she stepped into the small space. I didn’t bother to cover myself; Nayla had seen me naked so many times it was laughable. I’d been coming here since I was a babe with Matriarch Sylva. Besides, she was all business, focused on her craft. Pouring a stream of sandalwood oil into the raging water, the strong aroma enveloped me like a soft blanket. Another contented sigh escaped me. Ashen Peak was renowned for its sandalwood groves, so the oil was abundant, a scent that always brought memories of home flooding back. A soap stone plopped into my bath, sliding comfortably under my back, but I ignored it. I wasn’t in the mood for scrubbing just yet—I just wanted to bask in the water. My muscles sang with joy. “Got any cuts?” Nayla asked, her keen eyes scanning my back, knowing all too well what we hunters came back with after a hard day's work. I nodded and leaned forward, displaying the wounds. She whistled low, impressed. “The bigger one looks infected. I’ll fetch the neem oil and add it to your bath. The cougarin meat is still a solid trade.” Neem was a luxury, so I appreciated her generosity not to ask for more in exchange. She shuffled out, quickly returning with the neem and pouring it into the water. Then she grabbed the soap stone, gently running it along my back where I couldn’t reach. A sharp hiss escaped me as it brushed over the cut; it must have been worse than I realized. Caught up in the thrill of taking down my first cougarin, I’d bravely ignored the pain until now. After torturing my back and applying her ministrations, she dropped the soap stone back into the tub and left. Finally, I could sink into true relaxation.
Chapter 3
I leaned back against the sloped tub, sliding as far down as I could without plunging under. My hair sprawled out in a halo around me, and to my dismay, it was a murky shade of brown, not the golden locks I wished it to be. The bathwater glimmered red, a grim reminder of the hunt I'd endured, so I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, savoring the calming scents of neem and sandalwood. Seven days spent tracking the beast, sleeping rough on rocks and leaves had paid off spectacularly. The days of snaring puny game like rabbits and possums, while enduring the jests of the men, were behind me. I had earned my place as a respected hunter now—heck, they might even let me into the Stalkers' Guild— “Hey! The Sovereign's Guard is moving this way!” a voice bellowed, shattering my moment of bliss in Nayla's Oasis. The Sovereign's Guard? What on earth could they want here? Were they somehow drafting for war? It wasn't every day they trekked all the way from Verdant City. Typically, it was we who brought coal or sandalwood to them, like subservient little traders. We were the forgotten village of Embergate Crossing, brushed aside by the king, who hardly acknowledged us. No true Drakon Kin dwelled here to bolster his forces; we were just a ragtag group of mixed-breed outcasts. “Listen here!” the same voice rang out again, and I bolted upright, reaching for the thatch door, peeling it open. Keiran. Of course. She thrived on gossip and lived for the latest news, especially if it came from Verdant City or anything involving Drakonis Rex. Self-appointed town crier. We were friends, but I could only tolerate her for so long. Diving into her coat, she produced an official-looking scroll and unfurled it. “King Aldrin seeks a new wife to grant him an heir.” She paused dramatically, allowing the collective gasp from Nayla's Oasis—my gasp included—to ripple through the room. He had only been wed to Queen Selene for three winters, losing four children with her before she ultimately fell to death in childbirth. A young king married at my age, yet now he was merely twenty-one. Their wedding had drawn my journey to Verdant City when I was just fifteen. A royal wedding was a grand spectacle across the realm. And now, just one winter after Queen Selene's passing, without an heir he was as good as vulnerable to Queen Duskara’s ambitions—intent on seizing this realm and ridding it of dragon-folk magic. It was no surprise he’d look for a new bride, but hearing it articulated like this sent shivers down my spine. Keiran cleared her throat, struggling to contain her glee. “He’s initiating a full search throughout all of Embergate Crossing for a new queen—” Cheers and shrieks pierced the air of Nayla’s Oasis, and I couldn’t stifle a chuckle at their desperation. As if the king would marry one of us Cinder girls! It was merely formal to declare it here; we were nothing more than a territory of Embergate Crossing. “To bear him an heir,” Keiran continued, her voice rising with anticipation, “he will dispatch sniffers to each town, village, and city within Embergate Crossing’s borders to locate all eligible women with enough magic to carry his child to term. They must be presented to him by the next full moon.” Deflated groans filled the space, mingling with sighs of exasperation. “He won’t find anyone with magic strong enough in Ember Hollow!” one of the younger girls lamented, her voice thick with defeat. “Not a soul powerful enough to bear a Drakonis Rex heir,” Nayla agreed, nodding gravely. They were right, though it pained me to admit it. Queen Selene had succumbed because his magic was simply too potent for her to handle, and I had heard whispers of her being nearly half Drakon Kin. Keiran tossed her hair over her shoulder like she was a queen, declaring, “I personally am one-quarter Drakon Kin, so—” Laughter erupted in the bathhouse, and I couldn’t help but snort. “Honey, one-quarter?” Nayla shook her head. “To carry a child for the Drakonis Rex himself, you’d have to be half Drakon Kin and blessed by the Maker.” With a hasty flick of her wrist, Keiran rolled up the parchment, stuffing it into her pocket as if it were a trophy. “We’ll let the sniffers decide!” And just like that, she bolted out of Nayla’s Oasis, igniting a wildfire of gossip in her wake. “Poor young king, losing his wife and four children,” someone murmured. “Why couldn’t she bear an heir? Hades, with my hips, I could give him ten babies!” Beren Beezle chimed in, his tone mocking. For a moment, a protective rage surged within me for the late queen. “She didn’t do anything wrong! The king’s magic is far too strong for mortal women!” I snapped, the heat of my words echoing fiercely around the room. Any spark of humanity Queen Selene had was ripped asunder by the overwhelming power of the pure-blooded Drakonis Rex's magic during her labor. As the buzzing of gossip subsided, I decided it was a perfect moment to wash away the chatter with my thoughts. I’d met her once—well, seen her from a distance during my trip to Verdant City. By the time I managed to climb atop the flower shop roof and catch a glimpse of our new queen, the king had already retreated inside. She was the most breathtaking woman I had ever laid my eyes upon. Her hair flowed like a cascade of shadows, deep and luxurious, curling thickly down to her waist. The gown she wore, laden with so much jade, seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, heavy as a puma. It was said that King Aldrin and Queen Selene were destined to usher in a new line of magical heirs, a match made even by forces beyond their understanding. How cruel destiny could be! First, the king lost his father mere moments after the wedding. Next, his children failed to thrive, and now he'd lost both his wife and a stillborn child. It was as if fate had conspired to strip him of joy and kin. So, I pushed those thoughts aside, fervently hoping he would find a new queen and raise a child who would thrive. Grabbing the soap stone, I scrubbed my skin and hair with fierce determination, as if hoping to wash away the very recognition of my grime. I didn’t smell like the forest anymore; the aroma of an apothecary shop lingered thick around me. My hair transformed to a shade of pale corn silk, and apart from a few bruises and dirt beneath my nails that time wouldn’t cleanse, I looked presentable. Standing and pouring one last bucket of clean water over myself, I hoisted myself out of the tub. After a hasty scrub of my teeth at Nayla's little sink against the far wall, I wrapped myself in linen and pulled the drain plug. Watching the blood-tinged water spiral down the drain, I swiftly towel-dried my hair, weaving it into a braid before slipping into my fresh blue cotton tunic and white trousers. The excitement outside signaled that news had traveled rapidly; the whole village would be buzzing for weeks, chattering long after the sniffers had come and gone. For the Sovereign's Guard to show up on May Day in our village was something monumental. “Aveline!” Matriarch Sylva’s voice called from just beyond the thatched partition. I pulled it aside, waving her over, but my hand froze mid-motion when I caught sight of her pale, drawn face. She rushed forward, gripping my upper arms tightly, her eyes locked with mine. “You need to leave now. Run,” she whispered urgently, as if the words could save us. A chuckle escaped me, thinking this was some sort of jest, until her expression shifted to one of serious dread, the kind I had never seen before. “What’s wrong?” I asked, bewildered. She darted a glance over her shoulder, signaling that we couldn’t talk here. I nodded, my heart racing. This was so uncharacteristic of her; my mother was the calmest woman I knew, seldom gripped by fear. Something was definitely off.
Chapter 4
Following her out of the bathing tent, I flashed Nayla a bright smile and waved goodbye, my feet almost skidding as I scurried toward our hut. As I rounded the corner onto our street, my heart leaped at the sight of the Blossom Pavilion, already set up in the heart of the village. It was draped in delicate strands of pink and purple garlands, transforming the square into a picture-perfect setting—a slice of romance that made my cheeks warm. A handful of young women, all giggles and giddiness, were already lining up to enter. I skidded to a stop. “Matriarch Sylva, can we hold off on this? I missed last year and… I was really looking forward to…” My first kiss. Just the thought of it made my stomach flutter, and judging by my mother’s knowing look, she understood all too well. Her eyes darted to the cozy kissing tent, and I caught the flicker of surprise dancing across her features. “Ah, right. May Day... and you missed last year because of that dreadful sickness…” I nodded, my gaze fixated on the flap of the tent as I caught a glimpse of Nathor slipping inside. “Mom, please!” She wandered over to some wildflowers flourishing in front of Madam Brina’s house, plucking a vibrant purple posy before tucking it into my braid. “Go on and enjoy your May Day kiss, then dash straight home. I’ll pack your things,” she said with a nod, a hint of finality in her voice. My heart sank a bit. Pack my things? I’d just returned from a grueling week-long hunt. I wasn’t about to head out again without a decent rest first! But since she had consented to the kissing tent, I wasn’t about to argue. I darted across the yard, first veering toward Lady Elira's Fauna Garden to quickly snag a sprig of mint. She popped her head out of the kitchen window with a bright smile. “Heading to the kissing tent?” she teased. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I hurriedly stuffed the two mint leaves into my mouth, chewing desperately to freshen my breath. Even though I’d just brushed my teeth, I wasn’t taking any chances on my first kiss. Lady Elira always welcomed us to take a sprig or two from her garden in exchange for helping with her weeds and mending her fences when the wild critters made mischief. I spun back, ready to step into the airy white silk tent, when I caught a noise from the main gate. My heart skipped as I craned my neck, spotting a procession of The Sovereign’s Guard marching through the village, their horses trotting in perfect unison. I felt frozen, captivated by the gleam of sunlight reflecting off their golden dragon crests. The sheer magnitude of their presence chased my thoughts of the kissing tent right out of my mind. Since I could wield a sword, I had always dreamed of joining The Sovereign’s Guard. My aspirations had been met with my mother’s disapproval—she insisted it wasn’t proper for a lady. Still, the fire to serve burned bright within me, and one name stood out in my recollections: Regina Windwhisper. Rumored to be the leader of The Sovereign’s Guard, she was the only woman, and if I could just reach out to her, to ask for good fortune with my hunting bow! But the thrill of the moment slipped away, and I recalled that my chance at my first kiss was slipping away too. Not to mention the off-beat vibe radiating from Matriarch Sylva—it was time to hurry! As the guards dismounted and strode toward the tent, I could hold back no longer. I slipped inside the bustling atmosphere, giddy voices swirled around me, and my eyes landed on the opposite side of the tent—where the young eligible men gathered. My heart raced as I caught Nathor’s gaze. He grinned, and in that moment, my own lips instinctively mirrored his smile. “Aveline!” Keiran’s voice rang out, pulling my attention back to the long line of women fidgeting with their gowns, all of them adorned in their finest dresses, sporting charcoal eyeliner and beetroot lip color. Then there I stood, in my trusty linen trousers and a damp braid that Matriarch Sylva had tried to dress up with a flower. Now I felt utterly ridiculous. Who shows up to a May Day kissing tent dressed like a hunter? A hunter, indeed. The memories washed over me of that dreadful winter when my father passed. The pangs of hunger chased me, and without a family hunter to provide, we might have perished. Small gifts from the village barely kept us afloat, but it was that year I forged my first trap and started catching small game. Ratin may have been at the bottom of the food chain, but it spared my mother the urgency of a remarry. I shook my head to clear those heavy thoughts away. Madam Brina, the enthusiastic host of the May Day tradition, strode toward the center of the room, her presence commanding. She was human and one of the village seamstresses, the very wizard behind our wedding gowns. With her hand gestures and captivating voice, she had every man’s attention. “Today might be the day you meet your future wife!” she declared, earning enthusiastic whoops and cheers from the men. Turning to us, the women, she added, “Don’t worry, they get better at kissing as time goes on.” Nervous laughter erupted from our side, while a few of the men groaned from her teasing jab. I aligned myself directly across from Nathor as the blindfold was suddenly draped over my eyes. “No cheating,” Keiran chimed, tying it snugly behind my head. I raised my hands in protest, but a firm hand swiftly came down, smacking mine away. “This is now in the Maker’s hands!” Madam Brina chided, and my stomach knotted with anticipation. “Young lovers,” she called, drawing my attention, “walk forward and kiss the first person you touch.”
Chapter 5
The sound of scrambling feet echoed in my ears as we all stumbled forward, arms stretching out like desperate swimmers reaching for safety. I wanted to call out to Nathor, but the thought seemed too pitiful, too desperate. I tried to peek down, hoping to catch a glimpse of his boots, but Keiran had tied this blasted blindfold way too tight. Just as I was trying to get my bearings, I bumped into someone. Firm arms wrapped around my waist, steadying me. My heart raced, pounding like a war drum in my throat. This was it. This was the moment I’d been dreaming of—the first kiss. Please don’t let it be that booger-picking Vernon, I silently prayed to the Maker, and slowly raised my fingers, trailing them up his chest in search of his face. I felt him tense under my touch, and my confidence wavered. Was he scared? My fingers moved cautiously over the fabric of his shirt until I reached his neck, pausing, terrified to grasp his face. His hands were still as stone against my back, and I licked my lips, trying to moisten them. In the May Day kissing tent, it was the girls who made the first move, and we had the option to back out if we felt unprepared. Is this really Nathor? Did he want to kiss me or bolt? Rumor had it all the guys peeked, and Madam Brina allowed them to loosely tie their blindfolds. If a guy ended up with a girl he didn’t want to kiss, it was supposed to be a quick peck, like the innocent ones given to mothers. But if he actually liked you… the rumors hinted that it could make your world spin. I craved that world to spin. After losing my father at a young age, I had been thrown into a rugged life: hunting, wearing trousers, sharpening my blade. I appreciated that life, but it made it hard for the other boys to see me as a girl worth kissing. I want to be kissed, dammit. A lump formed in my throat as nervous anticipation churned in my stomach. I swallowed it down and leaned in, determined not to let my fear win. My thumbs trailed up his chin, grazing over a rough stubble and a sharply defined jawline belonging to someone who was definitely not Nathor. I froze, panic washing over me. Nathor still had that baby face—smooth and soft, devoid of any stubble. This jaw was rugged and manly, too mature for what I expected. Faced with this reality, I struggled. Should I back out? But before I could make a move, his lips found mine first, defying the cardinal rule of the May Day tent. A jolt of electricity shot through my body, and I gasped, caught off guard. He mirrored my surprise—both of us inhaling the moment. Heat surged through me, spiraling down to my core, and without thinking, I leaned in, deepening the kiss. His lips were gentle, tentative at first, but then they parted, and I slid my tongue inside, just like Keiran had instructed, colliding with his. A soft moan escaped him, and I felt my world tilt as a grin spread across my face. His hands roamed at my waist, drawing little circles on my hips, while his tongue danced within my mouth. Holy Maker. This was the ultimate first kiss—a moment my wildest fantasies couldn’t have prepared me for. My stomach simmered with a fiery warmth, and my heart fluttered wildly in my chest. Those warm, pillowy lips ignited something inside me, demanding more. “Alright, it’s getting hot in here!” Madam Brina chimed in, laughter bubbling forth. “Take off those blindfolds and meet your match, my young lovebirds!” In an instant, he withdrew, his lips, hands, warmth, and butterflies evaporating as if I’d been thrown into an icy lake. I yanked down the blindfold, desperately trying to illuminate the darkness, and came face-to-face with the blank canvas of the tent’s back wall. He was gone. A hollow ache formed in my chest. I coughed, forcing down the emotions that threatened to spill over, feeling as if I'd been left at the altar. You didn’t run away from a May Day match unless the kiss had been dreadful, a fluke that sent you sprinting away from a reminder you never wanted to see again. I glanced to my left, and the hole in my chest widened. Nathor was grinning down at a blushing Ruby Redfield, her glossy black hair cascading in soft waves down to her waist, where he held her firmly over her elegant green silk dress. Ruby was the picture-perfect girl—feminine, graceful, and a fabulous baker—everything that screamed “ideal wife material,” and everything I was not. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. I didn’t want to be here anymore; it felt pointless. Turning away, I stealthily slipped out of the side of the tent, seeking out Matriarch Sylva. She’d seemed so frightened earlier, and I welcomed any distraction she might throw my way. Anything to help me forget that world-redefining kiss and the ache of that bittersweet goodbye.
There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "The Huntress of Ember Hollow and the Royal Heir"
(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).
❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️