Scattered Moonlight

Book 3: The Moonlight Series

by K.C. Harper

Genres: Romantic Fantasy; Urban Fantasy; Fantasy Romance

Synopsis

The adult romantasy series comes to an end in this third instalment, and our favourite characters are coming back hotter and bolder than ever.

READERS LOVE KC. HARPER:
'This book had me on my KNEES and I was absolutely begging for more' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
'The PERFECT Crescent City hangover cure' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
'An absolute rollercoaster of emotions' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
'The palpable chemistry between the characters kept me hooked' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: October 14, 2025

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 320

Sample

Chapter One

Sweat slicked my spine, running in fine rivulets down the back of my neck. My skin stung, an erratic heat rolling through my body as several small sparks sputtered from my palms. I pulled my power more, practicing my illusions—a power I had developed after taking one of the serums made by my former Coven Leader, Sierra. Secret serums that offered alternate magi abilities. Ones intended to counter the black-market equivalent designed for humans. Ones she’d sold to Zahara, a shady Ithican industrialist on the eastern side of that sealed-tight border between us.

“Sweet sage,” I said through my teeth, fighting with everything I had to hold my concentration while my wolfy lover—and newly minted fiancé—Kane, his former Beta, Joaquin, and my former ex, Mason, watched me. All cozy-like.

The weight of their attention was too much, so I fixed my gaze on the sterile white wall inside the were’s wing of the Recovery Center. The place was a Conclave-run human health facility offering preternatural treatments at the heart of Cambria. And it was also the source of said Conclave’s endless income. “Unity for a common cause,” as the slogan went . . . as long as you were uber wealthy. A sickening notion that grated on me. A notion that required handling, but we were in a “one problem at a time” kinda triage. And we had a lotta problems.

Mason and I had opted to practice here, seeing as Kane had needed to meet with Joaquin to sort some wolfy things, and hadn’t been willing to leave my side. He was hardly ever more than a few steps away since everything had gone down three weeks before. Not that I complained. When we were home, he used his wolves to keep the place protected, but I still needed to practice, and killing three birds with one stone was the best option. Either way, after what Isaac had put us—put everyone—through, I couldn’t blame him. Isaac had taken enough: our child, my mother, Naomi . . . and time. So much goddamn time. Things we couldn’t get back, but we’d been working hard to make up for it.

Forehead creasing, I held my breath, the embers fading.

“Hold it,” instructed Mason, my Coven Leader and de facto trainer, adjusting his newly replaced black-rim glasses.

We’d been together for a time after he’d stepped in, helping to pull me from the dark that’d crowded my life when Kane was forced from it. Things between Mason and I had been good … for a time. And I’d tried with him; I really, really had. But then my Alpha had exploded his way back into my life, and fight loving him though I’d tried, he’d burrowed himself into my soul. I’d belonged to that wolf way before he’d ever claimed me. It had always been him.

“I don’t know how,” I whined. Closing my eyes, I drew on my obsidian—a newer one, given when I accepted the place as Mason’s Second. A position I hadn’t exactly wanted, but one I’d needed in order to counter my changeling stepfather, Isaac. It’d worked. Kinda. I’d thrown up enough red flags about being controlled by him to get my Alpha’s attention. But not before Isaac had brokered a deal with the humans. Well, more like one overly problematic and uber-calculating human, Zahara, who had plans of her own. Plans she’d kept exceedingly tight-lipped about. And I couldn’t help the knot that formed in my chest at the thought of it.

Why she’d wanted those serums …

My strength waned, then dropped. I frowned. I’d used my new power successfully all of exactly once. But since then, nada. I didn’t even know how I’d done it, which meant I had not one clue how to do it again.

“What am I doing wrong?”

Mason’s mouth twisted and he shook his head. “Hells if I know.”

Stood to reason, seeing he was an Empath. His forte was reading emotions, definitely not forging illusions. We’d been practicing for days, with less than zero progress. Asking for help might’ve been an option, if anyone outside of our little magi cluster of two knew what we’d done.

Like he’d plucked the thought from my mind, he said, “We could tell them.”

Them … the Coven. I worried my cheek between my teeth.

He shrugged. “We’ve got at least sixty Illusionists, Briar. They’d be better equipped to help.”

The torque of my stomach had bile kissing the back of my throat. That path was bound to breed questions—questions I wasn’t sure we could answer. Not truthfully, anyway.

“Not yet.”

His gaze pinched at the corners, but he nodded. “Maybe try picturing something in your mind to project.”

My chin dipped. “Like what?”

“Whatever you want. Maybe just start small.” His disheveled blond hair had gotten long enough for him to pull it into a top knot at the back of his head. It suited him.

That familiar magi strength stirred deep in my chest, quickly joined by another, the very wolfy one that tethered me to Kane. A link that shared healing and life and, as it turned out, a power I could reach out and grab.

I brushed it with my senses.

Kane tensed, then arched a lone brow. “Easy, Bry,” he said, his words a low rumble as they rolled across our connection.

I fidgeted with the hem of my knee-length navy wool dress. Warm. Practical. And easy access for Kane to reach up there and—

Mason scrubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. “You’ve gotta focus, Briar.”

Iron fires. I really, really did. It came in spurts, that focus. Something I blamed on the miniature wolf-ling growing inside my womb. That pup had been messing with my head and body ever since they’d taken up residence. Sleep was intermittent, my emotions a chaotic storm.

I loved it and was so damn grateful. But still, a pang of sadness punched my chest. I was excited, so, so excited, seeing as I’d dreamed of having a child with my Alpha for an age. But being forced to hide it, to shove that happiness down and pretend it wasn’t real because my ruthless stepfather used anything and anyone to his advantage, it hurt. A lot. But hurt or no, sharing it was a risk we couldn’t take.

My blood ran cold. Seven Iron Hells, we needed to find Isaac, because if we didn’t find him fast enough, time would reveal us. I couldn’t hide my bump forever. Not that I had one, yet. Sometimes I thought I could see one, and this overwhelming jumble of absolute elation and sheer and utter goddamn terror would take me.

I just wanted it over. Wanted to breathe again. Wanted Isaac dead. Wanted to watch the light bleed from his eyes, slowly. My mouth ran dry. I needed him to suffer the way Naomi had, the way my mother and everyone else under his thrall had.

Mason shifted into my sight, but the image of Mom reaching for me in those final moments drowned him out as they seared a painful path across my mind. She’d been a prisoner like the rest of us. But somewhere along the way, she’d given up. Stopped fighting for me. For Lucas. For herself. Not a surprise after everything she’d been through, but I’d never let myself get there. I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t.

My palm itched to cradle my womb, that protective need and a gut-clenching urge for violence taking me over.

The death and chaos and sheer fucking terror left in my stepfather’s wake needed to end decisively … with his goddamn head on a spike.

Mason’s brow furrowed questioningly, and I shook myself, trying to control my ragged breaths as I came back to the moment. My mouth tugged to the side, and I took Mason’s advice, peering around to get an idea. My gaze settled on the heart tattoo over my right wrist. The one my Alpha had put there.

I pulled on our combined power. It welled in my chest, then stalled, butting up against some invisible wall. A block. A weird one that only showed when I tried directing my strength toward manifesting. Breathing deep, I rolled my shoulders and tried again. But nothing.

Expression twisting, I ran a hand through my long, chestnut-colored hair, pulling it back from my face. “Why is this so hard?”

Joaquin shifted on his chair, hazel eyes flat as he raised his coffee mug, took a long drink, then deadpanned, “Because you’re not good at it.”

I lobbed a scowl his way. I had not one clue what advantage an Illusionist ability might give, but when it came to Isaac, I’d take every leg-up I could get.

Joaquin had … changed. He took up more space—not physically, but his presence had grown. Having him and my Alpha in the same room was heavy, the air charged with power. It crackled along my skin, making me glad they were friends. After Isaac had used the previous Southern Alpha, Victor, to sick his Pack on Kane, Joaquin had stepped in and ended ­Victor, which meant taking that Alpha seat. A move he’d made to save Kane, and me. And I thanked the wraith herself for it every day.

It was the best-case scenario having someone we trusted at the top of the Cambrian food chain, but good or not, I missed Joaquin’s sullen ass. And with what he’d done, with how it had protected Lucas …

Cambrian law meant being a changeling put a “kill on sight” bounty on my brother’s head too. But, thank sage, only a handful knew what blood coursed through his veins, including everyone in that room. He wasn’t his father, one of the originals, an escaped torturer from the Deep of the Iron Hells. Not of this world. His kind were known instigators, twisted, with a history of wreaking havoc. Their ability to take on the shape of any sentient thing by simply taking a piece of them made them more dangerous than anything in our world.

I eyed Joaquin. “Have your wolves said anything?”

He shook his head, several strands of that perfectly styled, jet-black hair falling over his temples. “The Pack knew Isaac’s house was a V den and that Victor hadn’t done shit to handle it. He and Isaac spent enough time together, they figured something was off.”

After my mother had been ousted from the Southern Coven, which was Isaac’s doing, my stepfather had taken refuge in ­Victor’s territory, which meant his Pack—Joaquin’s Pack—knew Lucas. Had watched him grow. And that, thank the wraith, meant he mattered to them.

Lucky for us, the ones under Isaac’s thrall saw first-hand what he’d put Lucas through. They’d seen my brother spiral down that V addiction, his vampire venom drug of choice. One he’d used to escape his father—an addiction he’d only beaten because of my Alpha.

Still, after so long spent hiding it, the idea of anyone knowing what my brother was set my teeth on edge.

“How’s Ezra?” I asked, because the way Joaquin’s recently minted partner had caught his eye tickled my withered soul. Him being a wicked tattoo artist and our latest Immortal Inc hire was just the cherry on top.

Joaquin cleared his throat and tugged the lapels of his button-­down olive-green sweater. “Good.”

I smirked.

His stare narrowed in a “shut your banshee mouth” kinda way.

We’d sent word to the rest of the Conclave about Isaac, forgoing the inconvenient details about his changeling blood line and Ivy being the source of his venom. Danika, the Southern Dowager, had already been on edge about losing her sisters. We figured her learning that Ivy, one of said sisters, had been alive the whole time before Cassandra Ryton, Danika’s Northern counterpart, had ultimately killed her to free us all, wasn’t likely to go down well.

“You can do this, Bry,” Kane encouraged, dragging a hand through his hair. It was freshly cut with gunmetal gray along its shorter sides, fading to silver and white in its longer top lengths.

I itched to run my fingers through it. My touch brushed that claiming mark along the length of my throat, gaze sliding to his as he watched from across the room. His slate hoodie fit his broad shoulders as he leaned against the doorframe like he was holding it up. His thick, corded arms were folded over his chest, that silver topaz stare locked on me, because my Alpha needed me in sight. The feeling was mutual: I needed that wolf more than I needed air. He was a part of me, a part I couldn’t function without. And planning our wedding, to tie myself to him in that final way, had been the light in the dismal dark.

He must’ve read that thought from my expression because those eyes flashed, going voltaic.

My body heated and I trailed my tongue along the back of my teeth.

Joaquin cleared his throat.

I blinked, trying to quell that wanton need, and succeeding. Mostly.

“Have you heard anything about Isaac?” Mason asked, the question a hard smack back to reality.

Kane’s expression darkened as he shook his head. “Nothing.” He chucked his chin Mason’s way. “You?”

Mason frowned. “Nothing.”

I didn’t know what was worse, the shit Isaac had stirred, or the silence left in his wake. It made us all paranoid, looking over our shoulders, like he might be there, lurking, hidden behind someone else’s face, just out of sight. We’d looked for that bite-shaped scar I’d given him years before on everyone we met, with no damn luck.

Kane and Mason had formed a truce, of sorts. My Alpha had been grateful for my ex sticking by my side after my stepfather had compelled me to leave him, but—though he’d not voiced it since—there would always be a part of him, the wolf inside, that couldn’t settle in Mason’s presence. And I got it, because Kane’s own former fling, Whitney, had helped him in my absence. A lot had happened in the time since, and while she and Theo seemed entirely smitten with each other, it didn’t mean I wanted her and my Alpha turning besties.

I trusted him with my entire being, but I was a greedy wench who refused to share.

Kane’s low growl rolled through my mind. “You’re making it real hard not to throw you against that wall and fuck you senseless right now, Bry.”

I offered him a lascivious smile before I trailed my tongue along my bottom lip. “Promises, promises.”

He cocked a lone, challenging brow. And, sage, I loved that side of him. Loved the trial of wills—a trial my big bad always won. But I lived to poke his wolf. To play. And he loved to let me. Only me.

“Test me, Bry.”

It might’ve been everything we’d been through or my wildly rampant hormones, but I couldn’t shut down the need for him. It consumed me. All the time. There was no beginning or end. I was in-fucking-satiable, which was a problem, ’cause so was he.

Something tightened low in my belly, and heat pooled between my thighs.

Kane’s stare dipped there. He pushed off that wall.

A heavy thump, thump, thump sounded at the door. My adrenaline spiked, head whipping that way—muscle memory kicking in because my Isaac-based fear was on point.

Stepping back, my hand shot to my abdomen.

Kane’s eyes flashed. “It’s Theo.” He stalked to the door, his solid, broad, densely muscled shoulders and that I’m-the-­biggest-of-the-badasses gait on full display as he moved. Stretching his neck, he pulled the door wide.

My Alpha’s cousin sauntered in, but there was a hitch in his typically playful stride. It had been there ever since he’d lost his sister, Naomi, to Isaac. My stepfather had killed her to thieve her genetic makeup, to build a serum that gave humans the ability to become weres … for a time. A serum he’d given to Zahara. Fucking Isaac. Always fucking Isaac.

Theo gestured Mason’s way. “You ask her yet?”

My gaze narrowed and roved between them. “Has he asked who what?”

Mason linked his hands before him and pivoted to face me, expression flat. Serious. Pure Coven Leader. “I’ve received a formal request. Whitney’s asked for a transfer.”

My gaze flicked to my Alpha, whose stare stayed locked on mine. There was no response. No feelings there. Every part of him belonged to me.

“Your call, Bry,” he silently said.

Theo set his hip against a table along the far wall, a desperate, almost pleading look in his eyes that stopped my heart in its tracks, because he needed this. It was written in the pulse at his neck. The anxious bounce of his foot. He needed something to look forward to. Someone. He needed not to feel alone.

And on that, I’d never make him wait. “I’m good with it.”

Theo’s chest sagged on his exhale.

Mason inclined his head. “We’ll have to make it official with the Coven.”

“I’m ready when she is,” I said, body sagging as a wave of exhaustion took me over. I yawned, eyes drooping. Iron fires, I was tired. Turned out growing my mate’s babe took a lotta energy … like, pretty much all of it.

Perceptive as ever, Kane closed in, his warm, calloused hand landing on my waist while his musk and wilderness scent filled my senses. His eyes tracked between my own. “We done for now?”

My Coven Leader nodded, then said to me, “I’ll text you with a day.”

Light caught on my engagement ring: the three-carat princess-­cut one I was utterly obsessed with. Life being haywire meant Kane and I hadn’t sorted the details yet, but we had settled a few things.

“Mason, wait,” I said, movements jerky as I smoothed my dress. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.” My gaze flicked to my Alpha.

Kane stretched his neck and inclined his head. Stalking to the door, he and Joaquin stepped into the hall, still in sight, but giving us the semblance of privacy. Not that they wouldn’t hear, with those preternatural ears of theirs. But really, it was the thought that counted.

Clasping my hands before me, I turned to Mason, decidedly nervous. Yeah, we’d worked things out between us. To me, he’d become a friend, but I had a suspicion where his feelings for me still fell. Regardless, he’d been a part of my life—an integral part—for far too long. I wouldn’t turn my back on him.

“You probably figured out Kane and I are, um”—I raised that engagement ring—“getting married.” I swallowed around the dryness in my throat. “We don’t have a date yet. Still just planning, but … I wanted to let you know. Tell you you’re invited.”

His eyes widened, then creased at the corners as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“You don’t need to answer now,” I fumbled. “I just wanted to put it out there. Let you know you’re wanted.”

Kane shifted in the hall.

“Yeah.” Mason ducked his head and smiled, and while it was tight, it still touched his copper eyes. “Of course I’ll go.” He scrubbed a hand over his hair. “I’m happy for you, Briar.”

He’d said it before, but this time, I truly believed it—and the warmth in his tone told me that so did he.

My chest fell as I let go of the breath I’d been holding. Easy. Relieved. “Thank you.”

His laugh was rich and genuine. “Who knows? Maybe by then I’ll have someone.”

My smile was full. Sage, I hoped he would, because Mason Beckett was a great guy. Just not the right one for me.

We aimed for the door, joining Kane and Joaquin as we cleared out to leave. The RC was shaped like its logo, a cross, with the lobby at its heart, which is exactly where we were headed.

Joaquin moved in, flanking my side, his stride easy. Lithe.

Nudging him with my elbow, I said, “Alpha-dom suits you.”

He side-eyed me.

“And it’s a relief problem-solving stuff without all that”—I flicked my hand in his general direction—“Victor-induced wolfy bullshit.”

“Wolfy bullshit?” he drawled.

I plunked my hands on my hips. “Yeah. You heard me.”

Rounding the corner, the sunproof glass doors of the exit came into view. The place was wildly sterile, the orange lounger chairs that lined the waiting room the only pops of color. Well, that and the backlit cross that hung behind the front desk. Each one of its ends representing a group: magi, shadow walkers, wolves, and humans.

Kane stiffened and my chest constricted as I caught a head of white-blonde hair in the periphery of my vision.

Cassandra stood at the head of the shadow-walker wing. Her pale and semi-translucent skin was beautiful against the slim-­fitting jade-green dress she wore, which was far more modern than her usual style. Her long, delicate fingers were linked together as she spoke to one of her people.

I stopped dead, blood running cold.

The walker with her turned, offering us a nod, but she didn’t look. She would’ve known I was there, ’cause sure as the Iron Hells, she’d scented me. But still, those crimson eyes stayed averted.

Because I’d lied.

But she’d been there, had fought to break me free of my stepfather’s hold. Had killed Ivy to do it. She’d become a friend, one I’d been forced to betray to keep Lucas’s forbidden bloodline a secret. I’d done what I’d needed to do to protect him, and would do it again if I had to. But it didn’t mean there hadn’t been fallout. A painful one.

She hadn’t come for my brother. But whether it was caution or because she’d readied a horde for an ambush to take us all down, I didn’t know.

My heart twisted and I flinched.

Mason gripped his obsidian, throwing a cocoon around our conversation to shield it. “Has she talked to you yet?”

I shook my head. I’d tried. Sage knew I’d tried, but she hadn’t returned a single one of my calls. I’d considered driving to her territory, pounding down that penthouse door, had climbed into the truck to do just that any number of times, but my Alpha had hauled me back out, ’cause crossing without invitation was a good way to have my throat violently removed.

Pressure built in my chest. I needed to do something. Try again. Running a hand along my upper arm, I advanced a step toward her.

Pivoting, she dismissed me, giving me her back as she glided away.

My throat tightened, and my heart sank. Tears pricked my eyes, because I wanted her back. Actually missed her. I needed to find a way to bridge the cavern I’d dug between us, but hells if I knew how.

Chapter Two

The buzz of Ezra’s tattoo gun carried through Immortal Inc early the next evening as he finished up with his last client of the day.

Mason had texted a few hours before to let me know Whitney’s joining was scheduled for Friday, in two days’ time.

Light from the black chandelier overhead cast a surprisingly warm glow across the space. Sample sketches lined the teal back wall, and dark-stained hardwood and black crown molding set a warm vibe. It wasn’t the perfect mirror of Kane’s mother’s former shop, but it was close. And I loved it.

Ezra tucked a strand of his bone-straight, coal-black hair behind his ear. He was an Omega, lower in Joaquin’s Pack, less inclined to temper, and endlessly patient—which was an A-plus package, seeing as he was also the wolf my brother apprenticed under.

“See this,” Ezra said, his angular chestnut eyes narrowing as he pushed his thin silver-rimmed glasses on top of his head and pointed to the edge of the design he’d inked on the shadow walker, some kind of crest.

Not just any crest. Cassandra’s. I swallowed hard, then cut into the box of supplies I’d lugged over from the Recovery Center and started restocking the shelves.

Lucas inclined his head at Ezra, violet eyes locked.

I swore my brother had gained another inch in the weeks since everything had gone down. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have pegged him for a wolf. He’d outgrown his wardrobe, all of it. Shirts fitting too tight. Pants running too short. Which was exactly why we’d started finishing that unfinished basement for him to take over. To give him room to grow.

He was still gangly, but he’d been slowly filling in, ’cause the kid always had food in his mouth.

No, not a kid. After everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, he’d lost that innocence. And thank sage it hadn’t tainted him.

“We’ll go over it again in the next sitting to give it more definition.” Ezra hovered his gun over the curve of that crest. “Then we’ll shade this section so it’s got some depth.”

He was a walking advertisement, tattoos covering his neck, and arms—well, what I could see of them below his crisp black dress shirt, the sleeves of which he’d tugged up to the elbows.

Tapping the pedal for the hydraulic chair, he lowered it.

The walker stood, her crimson stare inspecting his work. “This is impressive, wolf.”

It wasn’t an insult, more a begrudging acceptance.

Lucas grabbed the cleaning cloth and sprayed down the red leather of the seat, readying Ezra’s station for the next day. That done, he lined several vials of ground were claws on a three-tiered metal tray. Preternaturals healed too fast for human tattoos, but claws scarred us all, so mixing this powder with the ink made it the permanent sort of artwork.

The front door swung wide, and Joaquin sauntered in, his hazel stare flashing when it fixed on Ezra, then holding. And holding.

I cleared my throat.

Joaquin blinked, snapping from his trance before his attention tracked to me. “Briar.”

“Alpha,” I said with a gallant bow and a flourished hand. “How fare thee?”

He stared at the ceiling like it would give him patience.

Ezra’s mouth lifted at the corners. “I’ll be ready in five.”

The Southern Alpha adjusted his fitted vest, then linked his hands before him, a soft blush staining his cheeks. “Take your time.”

I grinned.

The shadow walker sauntered my way and pulled out a wallet. Her crimson eyes were impersonal, her expression flat. Nothing about her screamed hostile. Either Cassandra had kept Lucas’s dangerously illegal bloodline quiet, or her people were super good at keeping their mouths shut.

My phone buzzed and I plucked it up, heart fluttering at the name that flashed across the screen. Lisa Xing, the owner of No Man’s Land, my old workplace, and also the bestest friend a girl could have.

“Lucas,” I said, gesturing between the cash and the vamp. “Would you mind? I’ve gotta take this.”

His nod was eager, that mahogany-colored hair falling around his handsome, lean face as he bounded his way over. “Got it.”

Heading for the back office, I sealed myself in and answered. “Hey, you.”

“Ugh. I miss your stupid face, chickie,” Lisa said, voice carrying over my phone’s speaker as I set it at the edge of the desk. Well, Kane’s desk that I’d confiscated. Not that he’d minded, ’cause he wanted my things, my touch, everywhere. Our business. Our home. Anyone else taking over an Alpha’s territory was the equivalent of pissing over their piss, a call for war. But I wasn’t just anyone.

Popping open the top drawer, I tugged a catalog free—one with the baby supplies I’d spent weeks combing through, drawing heart shapes around all the things I loved. Entire collections of furniture and blankets, mobiles and toys. Things I couldn’t have … not yet.

The air in the room was warm. Maybe. Or it could’ve just been my pregnant ass not regulating my temperature again. I tugged at the collage of my pale yellow dress to cool myself. Sage, it was never-ending. Too hot, too cold. Hungry, or full. Bouncing or exhausted. I blamed my wolf and his big bad genetics, something I reminded him of. Often.

“I miss you, too,” I said, slipping off my restrictive shoes and wiggling my toes into the new, plush, indigo-colored rug I’d ordered. Sweat slicked my skin as I unzipped the front of my dress, exposing my lacy white thong and bra. “How’re things on your side?”

She huffed. “Lots of infighting.”

My brow furrowed as I side-eyed the phone. “Infighting?”

“Yeah. Some anti-government faction causing trouble.”

I sat straighter in my chair. Ithican anti-government? That was new. “What kinda trouble?”

“Protests.”

Maybe we had different definitions, but… “That doesn’t sound like trouble—”

“Protests where they burn cars, attack anyone with an opposing view, and call for bombing Cambria.”

But of course. ’Cause that wouldn’t stir up the shittiest of shitstorms. There were a thousand reasons to want Cambria’s beasties dead, but with our borders the vacuum-sealed kinda shut and neither side having access to the other, that logic wasn’t exactly tracking. “What triggered it?”

“They think Ithica should’ve acted when the mess with the Phantom started. That our own people were killed because our government did nothing to counter preternaturals. They say our leadership looks weak because of the inaction, and that it’ll happen again. That we should have—”

“Bombed us into oblivion?”

“Yes,” she said, tone dry. “That.”

“Wonderful. They sound lovely.” Not that I blamed them for that anger; Cambria’s beasties meant we were dangerous. And our Conclave not getting their egos together had cost many lives, including human ones. But with Ithica’s iron-wielding military, they weren’t exactly helpless.

“Indeed.” She sighed. “They’re a small group for now, but they’re gaining traction.”

“What’re the politicians saying?”

There was a clank as if she were moving a pot. “They’re disagreeing on how to handle things. It’s a mess. But most think after the Conclave’s willingness to open a line of communication with us, and actively assisting our people in getting out of Cambria when things went down with Isaac, it would be ‘imprudent to sever ties’, and that maintaining a relationship with Cambria is ‘necessary for Ithican security’.

’Cause if they cut us off, the chances we’d help again were less than zero. “And how, exactly, do you know all of this?”

Her laugh was sharp. “Bower’s been keeping me in the loop.”

Bower Caddel, the Ithican Ambassador to Cambria. The same human we’d brought in to give a peek behind the big, supernaturally thick curtain. B