Chapter 1 (i)
Mireya Solenne
The wind whipped through my long hair as I carefully crossed the narrow wooden gangplank, trying not to lose my balance as I stepped out of Mang Julio’s boat. One of the two boatmen held my arm until both feet were firmly planted on the wide wooden planks of the dock.
Despite my traitorous stomach, I smiled gratefully at him.
He immediately went back to help my cousin Christian off the boat while I continued down the pier. Only when my feet finally touched the sand did I breathe a sigh of relief.
To hell with Majikal powers.
I hadn’t done anything impressive at all. Instead, I had spent the entire boat ride seasick and vomiting up every bite of breakfast I’d eaten.
Then again, I wasn’t used to traveling in small boats. The few times I’d crossed the sea before, it had been aboard ferries, jet boats, or luxury yachts. But what choice did I have? A small boat was the only way to reach this island.
Besides, my guardian had no idea Christian and I had snuck away on this trip. We had essentially run away from Daddy Edds—who happened to be Christian’s father.
I rubbed my stomach. My knees were still trembling slightly. I was truly terrible with seasickness. The weather had been beautiful, but the waves had been enormous.
I’d been ridiculously confident when the trip started.
Then the moment we reached open water, I became convinced the world was ending and deeply regretted ever leaving dry land because I was absolutely certain I was destined to die in the middle of the ocean while throwing up my internal organs.
Everyone had laughed at me. Well, okay, only a little, which was honestly better than being pitied. At least I managed to entertain them.
The boatmen insisted it was normal. That stretch of ocean faced east, where the winds were stronger and the waves larger. Why hadn’t I taken motion sickness medication?
That had been their question.
But I couldn’t take Mundi medicine. It didn’t work on me. Nothing created by Mundis had ever truly worked on me growing up. The only remedies that ever helped were my mother’s tonics.
Of course, I couldn’t tell them that—or anything about Majikals, because they were Mundis.
Even if they knew about Majikals because they worked for the MonTierras, Ian and I couldn’t exactly ask.
We were pretending to be Mundis during this trip.
So officially, all of us were equally clueless about the fact that the island beneath our feet belonged to one of the most powerful pureblood clans in the Majikal world.
The MonTierras.
Desperate to calm myself, I took in my surroundings.
The beauty of the island.
The clean air.
The soothing feel of sand beneath my feet.
I slipped off my sandals and walked barefoot along the shore while waiting for Ian to finish unloading our luggage. Mang Henry and Mang Julio were helping him carry the equipment.
I smiled at the warmth of the fine white sand. Taking a deep breath, I filled my lungs with salty air. Almost immediately, I felt better. I looked further at my surrounding. Even behind my sunglasses I found myself squinting.
The sunlight was dazzling.
The sand was impossibly white.
The entire island seemed to glow beneath the unobstructed rays of the sun.
I looked inland. The heart of the island was dominated by a forest-covered mountain. Here and there, structures peeked through the greenery. Bridges appeared between the trees. Curving roads disappeared into the forest. It was a wealthy island, the private kingdom of billionaires.
But most impressive of all was the MonTierra mansion, I thought as I viewed it from where I stood on the beach.
My heart pounded.
I’m here. Actually here. On MonTierra Island.
I was standing on MonTierra sand, staring at the mansion that had occupied my thoughts for months.
Rustic yet modern, clearly renovated many times through the years. There were towers and wraparound balconies. Brick and marble. Hardwood on railings and frames… an architectural combination that somehow worked perfectly. Brilliant red climbing roses wrapped around sections of the structure, looking wild and untamed despite the obvious care behind them. The mansion sat atop a plateau, backed by the vast green forest that covered most of the mountain.
When I’d first begun researching the MonTierra Clan, I never imagined I’d actually end up here. I was a Majikal raised almost entirely among Mundis. I had grown up practically living as one, which wasn’t difficult considering how little majik I could manifest.
Only recently had I learned that my upbringing was anything but normal for a pureblood like me.
For reasons I still didn’t understand, my mother had hidden me from other Majikals. I’d assumed there were very few of us. That we all lived quietly and secretly like I did.
I was wrong.
There were twelve Pureblood Clans: Artisania, Sanggreyuku, Sephiran, Nox, Breedlove, Le Rouge, Deammonne, Carpathia, Mazus, Zavaroni, Zasso… and the MonTierras.
And according to every clue I’d uncovered after my mother’s death, meeting a MonTierra might be the first step toward discovering the truth about myself.
Which was why I was here.
On MonTierra Island.
One of the most beautiful private island resorts in the South Pacific.
And one of the most heavily restricted places I knew.
Even wealthy elites underwent extensive screening before being allowed to set foot on its pristine white beaches. There were photos online, but never from the center of the island. Personal devices were prohibited in restricted areas. Visitors signed strict non-disclosure agreements before being admitted.
I had actually laughed when I read discussions about the NDA on Reddit. Most Mundis complained they had no idea why they’d been forced to sign one. There was supposedly nothing unusual to see. Nothing worth gossiping about. Most visitors never even caught a glimpse of the famously handsome MonTierra brothers.
Especially not the most mysterious one.
Alexander Giorgino MonTierra.
Of course, they never found anything worth gossiping about. I smirked at this thought. Anyone who saw something important had their memories altered before leaving. Majikals guarded their secrets fiercely.
When the MonTierra matriarch, Doña Isabella, had still been alive, ordinary Mundis barely knew this island existed. It had been warded. Hidden. Invisible. Only after her death had her three sons—known publicly as the Tres MonTierras Aleron, Romano and Maximo, embraced modern visibility.
But the most fascinating MonTierra wasn’t any of them. It was Maximo’s son, Alexander. According to the grapevine, he was one of the island’s greatest attractions. Mostly because nobody ever seemed to see him.
Since Doña Isabella’s death, royalty, politicians, billionaires, and some of the most famous celebrities in Europe and America had visited this island. Several controversial public figures had entered and left the country without the media ever discovering they had visited the MonTierras.
And according to rumors?
Most of them had come hoping to meet Alexander.
But I was different. My interest in the MonTierras had become more than simple fascination because of my mother.
My mother had been a highly respected Majikal. She came from the Artisania Clan—that much I knew. The Artisanias weren’t as wealthy as the MonTierras, but they were even more private.
So private that I had never met a single one of them until my mother’s wake. But I’d never even been given the chance to talk to the guy. Might as well, because I’d have beaten him up with my own hands.
Another story.
But back to this one, at first, I assumed it was because I was a Hybrid. The father I knew growing up had been a Hybrid. Therefore, I was a Hybrid, too. Right?
Wrong.
Very, very wrong.
