Loves her.
Nor does he acknowledge that he’s curious to see how she would fare were she cast into the Boltanic Plains and told to run while a roar of fire nips at her heels. Sizzles her flesh.
Would she carve out a life for herself in the barren hollows of an unloved terrain? Would she forge her weakness into a fearsome strength?
Would she thrive?
She passes the note and quill back through the bars, a hopeless sheen to her eyes.
No wonder his half-brother protected her so. She’s but a pretty ornamental flower, and flowers singe in the face of flames.
He decides she would not thrive at all. She would die as he almost did too many times to count.
He leaves without words or flair, the torn hem of his cloak fluttering in his wake as he moves through the elaborate tangle of cold, dark burrows, only stopping once he comes to his personal suite. He sits at his perfectly polished desk lit by a blazing candelabra stolen from someone long ago and spreads the parchment upon the tabletop.
He studies the bounty of treasures surrounding him—his suite a conglomeration of only the best, most interesting bits he’s scavenged over the phases.
The Princess had fallen into his lap as a sign from the Creators, he was certain. Too good an offer to pass up, given she immediately demanded he send a lark to the Burn King himself.
Not a single mention of her doting pah.
Handy, seeing he has no interest in The Shade. The only seat he cares about is the bronze throne of The Burn that rightfully belongs to him.
This is it. The very moment he’s been channeling toward for so long.
Arkyn sits straighter, quill poised as he looks down. For the first time, he examines the flat of parchment, pausing.
Smiling.
She signed, yes … but amongst the scrawl, in a tiny, almost indiscernible script she did well to meld with the shape of her name, is a single sentence:
He chuckles, scratching his own note upon the empty space before folding the parchment lark down its activation lines, giving it life, whispering a name upon its fluttering wings.
She has more bite than he’d anticipated.
Perhaps he was wrong about her. Perhaps she would survive after all. The same, however, cannot be said about her uncle.
No …
He has plans for the great Kaan Vaegor, who took Arkyn’s revenge for himself, and none of them are pretty.
The parchment lark takes flight, soaring from the Scavenger King’s personal suite and out into the halls. It weaves through the underground warren toward the world outside, bypassing a different lark on its way past the cells …
A small, wobbly one with a tear in its wing and a blood splotch on its tail.
The damaged lark dips between two bars to where Princess Kyzari is bound on the ground in a ball beneath her filthy blanket, the scoop of her hand a landing pad the little lark dives toward—face-first, crushing its nose against her fingers.
Kyzari flinches. Opens her eyes.
The lark flips onto its back, bearing three small, perfectly scripted letters upon the underside of its belly …
Click here for the When the Moon Hatched playlist.
THANK YOU
Since 2020, I’ve been picking away at this story, visiting it in the evenings while trying to drift off. While driving. Showering. Cooking. But part of me knew I wasn’t ready to tell the tale and (hopefully) do it justice.
Looking back now, I think the story was biding time, pulling breath until it could sing loud enough that I wouldn’t be able to tune it out. As it was, that happened when I needed it the most. When I, myself, needed to remember how to breathe.
I hope you fell in love with this world as I did. That the story gave you a smile. A tear.
A warm feeling in your chest.
I hope that, for just a moment, you felt as though you were pressed between these pages, coasting through the sky on Rygun’s back or looking up at the moons. That you were bound around a silver egg and writing in your diary, or tucking nee into the crook of your neck and rocking her to sleep.
Thank you for taking this breath with me. For allowing me to take you on another adventure.
For trusting me with your heartbeats.
All my love,
Sarah xo
ALSO BY SARAH A. PARKER
The Crystal Bloom Series
“???? ? ?????? ?????? ?? ???? ?????? ?? ? ???, ????? ?????."
Nineteen years ago, I was plucked from the heart of a bloody massacre that spared nobody else.
Small. Fragile.
An enigma.
Now ward to a powerful High Master who knows too much and says too little, I lead a simple life, never straying from the confines of an imaginary line I’ve drawn around the castle grounds.
Stay within. Never leave.
Out there, the monsters lurk. Inside, I’m safe … though at a cost far greater than the blood I drip into a goblet daily.
Toxic, unreciprocated love for a man who's utterly unavailable.
My savior. My protector.
My almost executioner.
I can’t help but be enamored with the arcane man who holds the power to pull my roots from the ground.
When voracious beasts spill across the land and threaten to fray the fabric of my tailored existence, the petals of reality peel back to reveal an ugly truth. But in a castle puddled with secrets, none are greater than the one I’ve kept from myself.
No tower is tall enough to protect me from the horror that tore my life to shreds.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wouldn’t have been able to publish this book without the help of my incredible team and the unending support of my family.
Josh. You took a world of weight off my shoulders by becoming the primary caregiver to our three beautiful children, allowing me to fully immerse myself into this story. I cry every time I see that snippet from Game of Thrones—you know the one where Jon Snow has an army charging towards him? He’s beat down, preparing to go to war on his own, and then just before the clash … another army charges in from behind him and takes the hit.
You’re the army, my love.
Thank you for saving me.
Mum—thank you for taking the time to read over this story not once, but twice. For talking things through on the phone with me. For your support and never-ending encouragement.
I love you.
The Editor & The Quill—Chinah—thank you for everything you poured into this story. For first alpha reading, then your developmental edits, then line and copy. You go above and beyond with every book I write, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life. For not just your amazing editing skills, but for your precious friendship.
Forever wishing we lived closer.
Polished Perfection—Helayna—thank you for the many hours you spent making this beast of a book sparkle. For hunting down inconsistencies in my plot and for your love and devotion towards the story. I’m so thankful that you were able to fit me into your schedule.
Raven, you know I love you to the moon and back.
Thank you for encouraging me to take this leap of faith. For being the voice of reason when I so desperately needed it, and for setting me on the right path again when I got caught in the rewrite spiral of doom. (laughing face)
Thank you for taking the time to beta read this story, and for your love and support of it. Of me.
I treasure our friendship.
A.T. Cover Designs—Aubrey, thank you for the stunning paperback/kindle cover. I still can’t believe you painted me a MOONPLUME!
Thank you for pouring so much heart and soul into everything you design for me. Words can’t begin to describe how thankful I am for all the hours you spend bringing my stories to life visually.
Forever thankful for our friendship.