1
The woman had Mara’s face.
That was the first problem.
The second was that Asterion was afraid of her.
Far beneath the broken Hollow, the enormous white wolf pulled against his remaining chains.
Not toward the woman.
Away.
Mara had watched monsters bow to her.
She had watched trees bend.
She had watched Alpha command break.
She had survived Corvin, the Offering, the Heart Chamber and a transformation she still did not completely understand.
None of those things frightened her as much as seeing Asterion try to retreat.
The black door beneath him opened wider.
The woman stepped through.
Bare feet touched ancient stone.
Long dark hair fell around a face Mara had seen every morning of her life.
Her own.
Not similar.
Not close.
The same eyes.
The same shape of mouth.
Even the slight lift of one eyebrow as she looked upward.
Mara’s stomach turned.
Beside her, Ronan went very still.
“Tell me you’re seeing that.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“That isn’t the word I’d use.”
The earth shifted beneath them.
Mara grabbed the broken edge of stone.
All around Moonspire, people were shouting.
Some were still celebrating the destruction of the Blood Crown.
Others had finally noticed the enormous crack running through the courtyard.
The surviving Offering women backed away.
Garrick shouted for everyone to clear the opening.
No one listened.
Naturally.
People had just discovered that three hundred years of sacred history was built on murder.
Listening politely was probably finished for the evening.
Mara kept staring downward.
The woman below lifted her head.
“My daughter finally woke.”
The words traveled through stone.
Not shouted.
Not magically amplified in any way Mara understood.
Still, everyone heard them.
Mara’s fingers went cold.
Behind her, Lena made a sound.
Small.
Broken.
Mara turned.
Her mother stood several yards away with Elin beside her.
Lena’s face had gone completely white.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Mara knew that expression now.
She had seen too much of it lately.
Every time something from her father’s past returned.
The pendant.
The Moonkeeper crest.
The sealed wolf.
The truth about Eamon.
Her mother always looked frightened half a second before she lied.
“Mum?”
Lena did not answer.
The woman beneath the Hollow smiled.
Mara looked back down.
“Who are you?”
No answer.
The woman began walking.
Mara frowned.
There was no staircase.
At least there hadn’t been.
Then the stone beneath the stranger’s bare feet moved.
One step rose.
Then another.
The Hollow was building her a path.
“Oh, that’s comforting,” Mara muttered.
Ronan drew his sword.
Mara glanced at him.
“Planning to stab the woman wearing my face?”
“If necessary.”
“Try not to stab my face.”
“I’ll aim carefully.”
Despite everything, something almost like laughter tried to escape her.
It died quickly.
The woman kept climbing.
Asterion roared again.
This time everyone heard it.
The ground shook hard enough to knock several people down.
Mara’s wolf recoiled inside her.
Not hiding.
Watching.
Danger.
Mara swallowed.
“You’re certain?”
Her wolf gave her the emotional equivalent of a very irritated look.
Apparently that had been a stupid question.
Ronan stepped forward.
Mara caught his sleeve.
“Don’t.”
His eyes dropped to her hand.
“She may be dangerous.”
“She probably is.”
“And?”
“And I want answers before you remove her head.”
“I wasn’t planning to remove it.”
“You’re holding a sword.”
“Preparedness.”
Mara looked at the blade.
“Very diplomatic.”
Ronan didn’t smile.
That worried her.
During the Offering, Ronan had been angry.
Protective.
Controlling sometimes.
Terrified more often than he admitted.
But Mara had learned the difference between his fear and his battle instinct.
Right now, every part of him was prepared to kill.
The woman reached the level of Asterion’s prison.
She stopped beside the enormous wolf.
Asterion bared teeth longer than Mara’s forearm.
The woman looked at him.
“Still angry?”
Asterion snarled.
The sound entered Mara’s skull.
SHE SHOULD NOT BE FREE.
Mara stiffened.
“What is she?”
No answer.
“Asterion.”
The wolf pulled against his chains.
ASK HER.
“Very useful.”
The woman glanced upward.
“I always found him dramatic.”
Mara’s heart stumbled.
“You can hear him?”
The woman smiled.
“Of course.”
That answer created several new problems.
Mara was getting tired of answers doing that.
The stone staircase continued forming.
Higher.
Closer.
Corvin laughed behind them.
Mara turned sharply.
He remained bound near the broken Council steps, wrists tied behind him.
Blood dried along one side of his face.
He looked exhausted.
He also looked far too interested.
“You know her.”
Corvin’s laughter stopped.
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
Mara studied him.
That might have been worse.
Corvin had known about the Moonkeepers.
The Blood Crown.
Asterion.
The murders.
The Heart Chamber.
He had known enough horrible secrets to fill several libraries.
Yet the woman beneath them frightened him.
“What was behind that door?” Mara asked.
“I told you.”
“You avoided telling me.”
“I said there are older doors.”
“That is not information.”
“It is the only information I have.”
Ronan glanced at Corvin.
“Did the Council know another prison existed?”
“No.”
“Your predecessors?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara folded her arms.
“Wonderful. The people secretly controlling civilization didn’t know what was underneath their secret magical prison.”
Corvin’s expression tightened.
“I understand how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
Another section of stone rose.
The woman was almost level with the courtyard now.
People began moving backward.
Finally.
Fear succeeded where Garrick had failed.
The stranger reached the final step.
Her bare foot touched Moonspire stone.
Everything stopped.
The wind.
The shouting.
Even the remaining silver light inside the Hollow seemed to dim.
Mara stared at her.
Up close was worse.
Much worse.
The woman looked perhaps thirty.
Maybe younger.
Mara was twenty-one.
No mother should look nine years older than her daughter.
Not unless the word mother had suddenly become very flexible.
The stranger wore a simple white dress.
No jewelry.
No shoes.
No weapon.
Dark hair reached almost to her waist.
Her eyes were Mara’s hazel.
Except something moved behind them.
Silver.
Then black.
Then ordinary again.
Mara decided she disliked that.
Ronan moved in front of her.
Not touching.
Not grabbing.
Simply stepping between Mara and the stranger.
The woman stopped.
Her eyes traveled slowly over him.
Then amusement appeared on Mara’s face.
Except it wasn’t Mara’s amusement.
That was deeply unsettling.
“So Blackmoor blood still believes standing in front of women counts as strategy.”
Ronan’s expression changed.
Barely.
Mara noticed.
She noticed everything about him now.
“You know Blackmoor?” he asked.
The woman’s smile widened.
“I knew Blackmoor before you learned to turn obedience into virtue.”
Ronan’s grip tightened on his sword.
Mara stepped sideways.
He moved with her.
She stepped the other direction.
He moved again.
Mara stared at the back of his shoulder.
“Ronan.”
“No.”
“I haven’t asked anything.”
“I know what you’re going to ask.”
“That is extremely irritating.”
The woman watched them.
Delighted.
Mara poked Ronan between the shoulder blades.
“Move.”
“She came from a prison beneath Asterion.”
“So did information I desperately need.”
“Mara.”
“Ronan.”
He looked back at her.
She raised an eyebrow.
His jaw tightened.
Then he moved.
Half a step.
Enough.
Not because he liked it.
Because she had asked.
Mara felt something warm move through the bond.
There.
That was the difference.
Weeks ago—no, days ago; somehow it felt like years—he might have simply refused.
Now he left the decision hers even while every protective instinct inside him screamed.
The woman noticed that too.
Interesting.
She looked from Ronan to Mara.
“Someone trained you.”
Ronan answered before Mara could.
“No one trained her.”
“Clearly.”
Mara stepped forward.
“Name.”
The woman tilted her head.
“Straight to business.”
“I’ve had a long week.”
“Has it only been a week?”
Mara’s skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
The stranger looked around.
Moonspire.
The broken banners.
The opened Hollow.
The bodies being carried from the ritual.
The freed contestants.
The shattered Blood Crown still lying in pieces nearby.
Something almost sad passed through her expression.
Then disappeared.
“My name is Aveline.”
Mara waited.
The woman looked directly at her.
“Aveline Vale.”
Silence.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind that seemed to remove air from the world.
Mara heard Elin inhale behind her.
Lena whispered:
“No.”
Aveline’s gaze moved toward her.
For the first time, the woman’s calm expression broke.
Only slightly.
“Lena.”
Mara turned.
Her mother stepped backward.
“You stay away from her.”
Aveline said nothing.
Lena moved toward Mara.
“Do you hear me? Don’t touch her.”
Mara stared between them.
“You know each other.”
Lena’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Mara laughed once.
There it was.
Again.
Another impossible thing her mother had somehow forgotten to mention.
“Of course you do.”
“Mara—”
“No. Please. I would love to hear this one.”
Lena’s eyes filled.
“This isn’t where we should speak.”
Mara gestured broadly around them.
“Mother, I have spent the last several days discovering that my father was a Moonkeeper, my wolf was magically sealed, my name was deliberately placed into a death ritual, the Council murdered generations of women, a giant ancient wolf knows my family, and apparently there was another secret prison underneath the first secret prison.”
She pointed at Aveline.
“Now a woman wearing my face has walked out of it and called me her daughter.”
Mara took a breath.
“So I think we’re past waiting for an appropriate location.”
Elin came beside Lena.
“Mara.”
Her voice was careful.
Mara looked at her sister.
Elin looked frightened.
Not of Mara.
For her.
That almost made everything worse.
Mara faced Aveline again.
“You called me your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“My mother is standing behind me.”
Aveline looked past her toward Lena.
Something complicated entered her face.
Gratitude?
Pain?
Mara couldn’t tell.
“She raised you.”
Mara felt Ronan shift closer.
Not blocking now.
Present.
Aveline continued.
“She kept you alive.”
Lena whispered:
“Stop.”
“She loved you.”
“Stop.”
“She became your mother in every way that mattered.”
Mara’s heart began beating too hard.
Aveline’s eyes returned to her.
“But she did not give birth to you.”
The ground moved.
Actually moved.
A deep tremor rolled beneath Moonspire.
Stone cracked somewhere behind Mara.
She barely noticed.
Her entire world had narrowed to the woman standing in front of her.
“No.”
Aveline did not react.
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
“Mara,” Lena said.
She turned.
Her mother’s face destroyed the denial before words could.
Mara stared at her.
“Tell me she’s lying.”
Lena began crying.
Quietly.
Mara had seen her mother angry.
Tired.
Afraid.
She had almost never seen Lena cry.
“Tell me.”
Lena stepped forward.
“Mara, I love you.”
Wrong answer.
Mara’s stomach dropped.
“Tell me she’s lying.”
“I love you.”
“Mother.”
“I am your mother.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Elin reached for Mara.
Mara moved away.
Not because she didn’t want her sister.
Because suddenly she did not know where anything belonged.
Lena.
Elin.
Eamon.
Vale.
Greyfen.
The little house with the leaking roof.
Her father’s coat.
Her mother’s hands fixing her hair when she was seven.
Elin sleeping beside her during winter storms.
Breakfast.
Arguments.
Burned bread.
Everything ordinary.
Everything real.
And now a woman with Mara’s face was standing in the ruins of the Hollow telling her there had been something before all of it.
Ronan’s voice came quietly beside her.
“Mara.”
She looked at him.
He did not tell her to calm down.
Smart man.
“What?” she asked.
“You don’t have to answer anyone right now.”
The words settled somewhere inside her.
A small solid thing.
She nodded once.
Then looked at Aveline.
“You say you gave birth to me.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe that.”
“No.”
That stopped Mara.
Aveline’s expression remained calm.
“I expect you to doubt me.”
“Good.”
“I would be disappointed otherwise.”
Mara folded her arms.
“You look thirty.”
“Approximately.”
“Approximately?”
“Time behaved differently where I was.”
“That sentence is suspicious enough to deserve its own prison.”
Aveline smiled.
Mara hated that she recognized the shape of it.
Her own mouth.
Her own humor, almost.
No.
She would not let resemblance become evidence.
She had spent too long learning that feelings were not proof.
“Prove it.”
Lena stepped forward.
“No.”
Mara glanced back.
“I’m not asking you.”
“You don’t know what she can do.”
“Neither do you, apparently.”
Lena flinched.
Mara regretted it.
A little.
Not enough.
Aveline studied her.
“You want proof?”
“I want truth.”
“Those are not always the same thing.”
Mara’s patience snapped.
“Everyone who has lied to me says something like that.”
Aveline’s amusement disappeared.
For the first time, she looked almost proud.
“That sounds like Eamon.”
Mara froze.
Ronan’s body tightened beside her.
“You knew my father.”
Aveline looked at her.
“Knew him?”
Something changed in her eyes.
Grief.
Real this time.
“I loved him.”
Mara’s breath caught.
Lena closed her eyes.
There were too many truths in the courtyard now.
Too many pieces.
Mara could not fit them together quickly enough.
She hated that.
“Where is he?”
Aveline went very still.
Mara noticed.
“What?”
“You believe he’s dead.”
“My mother—”
She stopped.
Which mother?
The thought came without permission.
Mara hated it immediately.
Lena was her mother.
Whatever blood said.
Whatever this woman said.
Lena had stayed.
That mattered.
Mara turned back to Aveline.
“I was told he died when I was seven.”
Aveline’s expression became unreadable.
“That is a conversation for another moment.”
Mara laughed sharply.
“No.”
“Mara.”
“No. Absolutely not. Everyone has had twenty-one years of choosing which conversation I am allowed to have.”
She stepped closer.
“Not anymore.”
Aveline watched her.
The air between them seemed to tighten.
Ronan moved slightly.
Ready.
Mara ignored him.
“Where is Eamon Vale?”
Aveline’s eyes dropped briefly toward Mara’s chest.
Toward the pendant beneath her clothes.
“You still have it.”
Mara’s fingers closed instinctively over the broken moon.
“How do you know about this?”
“Because it was mine.”
Mara’s hand froze.
Lena whispered something behind her.
Aveline stepped closer.
Ronan immediately moved.
This time Mara did not stop him.
“Stay there,” he said.
Aveline looked at the sword.
Then at Ronan.
“You think steel will help?”
“I think we’ll both learn something if you keep walking.”
Mara almost admired the threat.
Aveline apparently did too.
“You have your grandfather’s temper.”
Ronan stopped.
“What?”
Aveline smiled.
Mara looked between them.
“Oh, good. She knows your family too.”
Ronan did not find that funny.
Mara couldn’t blame him.
Aveline looked back at her.
“You asked for proof.”
“Yes.”
“Then come here.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Aveline paused.
Mara raised her chin.
“You walked out of an ancient sealed chamber five minutes ago. I’m not approaching you because you ask nicely.”
Something like approval flashed across Aveline’s face.
“Good.”
“Stop approving of me. It’s unsettling.”
Aveline almost laughed.
Then she lifted both hands.
Empty.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Mara stared at her.
“That sentence has an impressive history of being followed by pain.”
Ronan murmured:
“She has a point.”
“I know.”
Aveline lowered her hands.
“Then ask your wolf.”
Mara went still.
Inside her, the wolf was pacing.
Alert.
Uneasy.
Not attacking.
Not welcoming.
Watching.
Mara whispered inwardly:
Do you know her?
No answer.
Helpful.
The wolf suddenly stopped.
Its attention fixed on Aveline.
Then something strange happened.
Not recognition.
Not exactly.
The wolf lowered its head.
Listening.
Mara’s skin prickled.
Aveline saw the change.
“There you are.”
Mara’s eyes narrowed.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“People keep saying that today too.”
The courtyard trembled again.
Asterion roared beneath them.
Aveline glanced toward the crack.
Her face hardened.
For the first time she looked less like a mysterious stranger.
More like someone who had been running from something for a very long time.
“We do not have much time.”
Ronan said, “For what?”
Aveline ignored him.
Her eyes stayed on Mara.
“The door opened because the Crown broke.”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
“That was me.”
“I know.”
“Asterion said I freed something worse.”
Aveline’s expression changed.
“He would.”
“What does that mean?”
A deep sound rose beneath the earth.
Not a roar.
Not a heartbeat.
Something scraped against the other side of the black doorway.
Aveline turned sharply.
Fear crossed her face.
Real fear.
Then she looked at Mara.
“Later.”
“No.”
“Mara—”
“I’m tired of later.”
Aveline crossed the distance between them.
Too fast.
Ronan moved.
His sword came up.
Mara’s wolf surged.
Lena screamed.
Aveline was suddenly in front of Mara.
One hand rose.
Mara tried to step back.
Too late.
Cool fingers touched the center of her forehead.
The world vanished.
For one fractured second Mara smelled blood.
Stone.
Rain.
Her father’s cedar coat.
She heard a baby crying.
A woman screaming.
A man’s voice shouting:
“Take her!”
Then darkness.
Mara’s knees almost failed.
Aveline caught nothing.
Did not hold her.
Did not pull her closer.
She simply leaned toward her.
Her breath touched Mara’s ear.
And in a voice so quiet only Mara could hear, she whispered:
“You were born down here.”
