Destined
(The ninth book in the House of Night series)
A novel by Kristin Cast and P C Cast
For Allie Jensen, with love and appreciation. Our magick works because you
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to our fabulous family at St. Martin’s Press. We heart our publisher!
As always, we appreciate our agent and friend, Meredith Bernstein, without whom the House of Night would not exist.
We appreciate Will Rogers High School and how cool they are to let us crawl around their awesome building and turn it into fiction. (No, none of the gorgeous art deco building was
Speaking of awesome and gorgeous—a giant THANK-YOU to our hometown community. We love how supportive T-Town is of the HoN! These folks are particularly covered with awesomesauce: The Ambassador Hotel and the Chalkboard restaurant, Moody’s Fine Jewelry, Starbucks at Utica Square, Miss Jackson’s, The Dolphin, The Wild Fork restaurant, Little Black Dress, the Gilcrease and Philbrook Museums, and Street Cats. And thank you to our dedicated, wonderful fans who have be coming to Tulsa on HoN trips! Our fans rock!
And last but totally NOT least:
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Also by P. C. Cast and Kristin Cast
About the Authors
Copyright
PROLOGUE
I tested the words silently. They felt wrong, unnatural, as if I was trying to comprehend the world turning upside down or the sun rising in the west.
I drew a deep, sobbing breath and rolled onto my side, reaching for another tissue in the box that was on the floor next to the bed.
Stark muttered and frowned and moved restlessly.
Slowly and carefully, I got out of bed, grabbed Stark’s giant sweatshirt from where he’d tossed it, pulled it on, and curled up on the beanbag chair that sat near the wall of our little tunnel room.
The beanbag made that smushy noise that always reminds me of the balls in those inflatable kid party houses, and Stark frowned and mumbled something again. I blew my nose. Quietly.
“She’d said she loved me,” I whispered.
I had hardly made any noise, but Stark tossed and turned restlessly, and muttered, “Stop!”
I clamped my lips together, even though I knew my whisper wasn’t what was messing with his sleep. Stark was my Warrior, my Guardian, and my boyfriend. No, boyfriend is too simple a word. There’s a bond between Stark and me that goes deeper than dating and sex and all the stuff that comes and goes with normal relationships. That’s why he was so restless. He could feel my sadness—even in his dreams he knew I was crying and hurt and scared and—
Stark pushed the blanket off his chest and I could see that his hand was clenched into a fist. My gaze went to his face. He was still asleep, but his forehead was furrowed and he was frowning.
I closed my eyes and drew a deep, centering breath. “Spirit,” I whispered. “Please come to me.” Instantly I felt the element brush against my skin. “Help me. No, actually, help Stark by shielding my sadness from him.”
