Shadow’s Edge

It started in her core, in the very center of her stomach, and ran out along her arms and legs. The shivers turned to goose bumps, butterflies in her stomach transformed into scarlet bright flame, joy came up hard to consume her. She wanted to stare up at these stars forever, felt they were more than just brilliant points of light, they were something akin to...

“You can see them all, can’t you?” Morgan said with an awed, whispered voice you would use in church. “All the Ikati. All of our kind, all across the globe.”

Jenna opened her eyes and gazed at Morgan’s face. She spun with dizziness and had to swallow a few times before she pulled herself together enough to respond.

“I didn’t see anything.” Her voice was more tremulous than she would have liked.

Morgan gazed back at her with something like reverence. Reverence...and awe. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I did not.” She paused for just longer than a heartbeat. “And even if I did, it doesn’t mean anything. I’m just overtired.”

“I’ll tell you what it means.” Morgan straightened her long legs and rose unsteadily from the chair. “It means that you are connected to all of us, you can find us anywhere, even through pitch black or blinding snow or at the bottom of the ocean. This Gift is the strongest of our Blood, a Gift shared by only a few of our kind throughout the ages, a Gift Marie Antoinette herself was blessed with. It means you are bound to us all, in a way we’re not even connected to each other.

“As a matter of fact,” Morgan inclined her head and sank into a low, proper curtsy, one knee bent elegantly with the other behind, “it means you are the Queen.”

Jenna stared at her, blinking. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “I must be hallucinating. I thought you just said I was the queen.”

“Yes,” Morgan insisted. She rose up with shining eyes to look her in the face.

There was total silence in the room save for the longcase clock against the wall that ticked out the seconds in crisp, clicking notes. Five, ten, twenty...

“That is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jenna hobbled back over to the bed, sank down heavily on it, and stared around the gilded room in a haze of confusion. She yawned again, fighting the tide of exhaustion that wanted to pull her down into an ocean of blessed rest.

She glanced over to find Morgan beaming at her.

“No, Morgan.”

“Yes, Jenna.”

“No. No.”

Morgan just stared at her, smiling enigmatically. It unraveled the last of her patience.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing with me, but I’m not in the mood for it! I only came here to get answers about what happened to my father, and first I find out he was...he was killed here—and not only that, but I’m a prisoner—and now you’re trying to tell me I’m the— I’m a—”

“Queen,” Morgan finished for her, calmly and quietly. “And yes, like it or not, I believe that is exactly what you are. And not only that, but Leander...is your mate.”

Jenna collapsed onto the bed and curled up into a fetal position. “Please just go away now. I just want you to go away.”

For a long moment, all Jenna heard was her own pulse pounding in her ears and the sound of Morgan’s soft, erratic breathing. “Just so you know,” Morgan murmured, “there are substantial benefits to being Queen of the Ikati.”

“I find it extremely hard to believe,” Jenna said into the coverlet, her voice muffled, “that being the matriarch of a pack of wild animals who live in hiding and kill each other if they step out of line would have a single advantage I’d be interested in.”

“Well...” Jenna heard the sound of rustling silk as Morgan nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Now they’ll have to do exactly as you say.”

Jenna barely had the strength or the interest to answer her. “They?”

“The Assembly,” Morgan enunciated. “If you’re the Queen, that means you can do as you please. It means you can come and go and live your life and to hell with all of them...” Morgan trailed off to a whisper, then gave a final, amazed sigh.

Something in her voice began to make Jenna extremely nervous. She sat up quickly and stared hard at Morgan. “You can’t tell them about this. That you think this.”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t be ridiculous! Do you know what this means for you? You’ll be able to—”

“Promise me,” Jenna interrupted. She leaned over and clutched Morgan’s hand. “Promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Jenna! I have to tell them! You have no idea how important you are to us—to me— ”

“No!”

“Why on earth not?” Morgan said, indignant.

Jenna dropped Morgan’s hand and sat back on the bed. She took a breath and lifted her gaze over Morgan’s shoulder. The color of the sky in the windows beyond was lifting to a bottomless, azure blue. “Because I don’t want to be that. I can’t be that.”

“But,” Morgan said, astonished, “why?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, hating the memory that surfaced. She kept her voice monotone when she answered, because at least she could control that, unlike the pain in her heart. Unlike the past.

“After my father disappeared, my mother drank herself to death. It took eight years. It wasn’t pretty, and I was helpless to stop it. Every single day growing up, I would pray that whatever was making her so sick and so scared would stop. I think she was literally scared to death. By the thought of what was following her, the thought of who and what wanted to see her dead.” She looked at Morgan. “The Ikati. And now you’re telling me I’m supposed to be—what?—in charge of?—the leader of?—the very people— things—that killed her? The things that killed my father?” She shook her head sharply. “No. No way. Not a chance in hell.”

Morgan gazed at her for one long, solemn moment. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know about that. All I knew—all any of us were ever told—was that your father deserted the colony for a human woman and had a child. And then he...” She moistened her lips, hesitating. “And then he...”

“Sacrificed himself so we could live. Yes,” Jenna said. “Apparently he did.”

“But he knew exactly what he was doing. He loved this place,” Morgan said softly. “He loved his people, his position, our way of life. He didn’t leave Sommerley because it was bad. He left because he couldn’t have what he wanted if he stayed. Because of the Law. But you can have anything you want, Jenna. Don’t you understand? Because you are who you are, you can leave, you can stay, you can have what I’ve wanted my entire life.”

Morgan leaned forward and gently took Jenna’s hand in her own and held it there with careful pressure.

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Freedom,” she breathed. “You can have your freedom.”

Morgan’s words came back to her, spoken with such pathos the night they arrived in the limousine. It’s more like what we’re trying to keep in.

Jenna’s body was now so heavy with weariness she felt she would sink right through the mattress to the floor below. The urge to sleep seemed as irresistible as the pull of the moon over the tides. She fought it back for just a moment longer.

“I already had that, Morgan. I already have that, and there’s nothing that’s going to keep me here against my will, playing nice. No matter how Leander and the Assembly or anyone else tries to force me to, I won’t play nice.” She looked at Morgan, squinting and blinking as her face went in and out of focus. “And I think you don’t want to play nice either, though you try to act like you do. I think