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Back The Night and Its Moon
Chapters (64)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  6. Pronunciation Guide
  7. Prologue
  8. Part One
  9. One
  10. Two
  11. Three
  12. Four
  13. Five
  14. Six
  15. Seven
  16. Eight
  17. Nine
  18. Ten
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Part Two
  23. Fourteen
  24. Fifteen
  25. Sixteen
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Twenty
  30. Twenty-One
  31. Twenty-Two
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. Part Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Part Four
  47. Thirty-Six
  48. Thirty-Seven
  49. Thirty-Eight
  50. Thirty-Nine
  51. Forty
  52. Forty-One
  53. Forty-Two
  54. Forty-Three
  55. Forty-Four
  56. Forty-Five
  57. Forty-Six
  58. Forty-Seven
  59. Epilogue
  60. Excerpt from The Sun and Its Shade
  61. The Night and Its Moon Playlist
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. About the Author
  64. Back Cover

Amaris rose into a crouch. If she was about to encounter the pair she’d met several nights ago, she meant to show them she didn’t intend to harm them. She wanted to have a conversation, not fight. Amaris flattened her palms to reveal that they held no weapons.

The shape moved closer. It was about the height of a man. The half-moon glow didn’t show the face of a person, and she screwed her eyes as intensely as she could against the dark. An uncomfortable tingle in her belly perceived a threat long before her eyes. Something was wrong.

Despite the warm season, a cold breeze snaked through their campsite. Goose bumps chilled across her arms and the back of her neck. Inexplicable anxiety, like the tang of metal, filled the back of her mouth. Her senses switched from curiosity to fight-or-flight as the chill permeated the campsite. The sensation slithered down her spine, and she knew she was not about to face any mortal. The shadow hadn’t moved closer, nor had she stood from her crouched position, but the reek of rotting flesh filled her nostrils.

She didn’t have to know precisely what she faced to know what that scent meant.

She had to move.

Amaris lowered her hand with the slowness of molasses as she reached for her sword. If she could keep the creature from stirring before she was armed, she might stand a chance at defense. The moment she wrapped her fingers around the hilt, the monster drifted out from its space between the trees. It took her a moment to connect the monstrosity before her eyes with the horrible pictures, the lore, and bestiaries she’d studied. She had seen this face sketched in the tomes at the fortress and heard the war stories of reevers who had faced it and lived to tell the tale. She was looking into the face of a nightmare embodied.

She stared at the slackened, inhumane, corpselike face, the sunken eyes, the reeking, smokelike tendrils of the beseul.

Her fingers flexed against the metal of the hilt as she readied for action. It was time to make her move.

Swift as a crack of thunder, Amaris cried out. Her sound was not fearful but instead intended to alert her companions while she sprang into action. She’d barely been spared a moment to react, and she knew they’d be slaughtered in their sleep if they were caught unaware. She was already moving as the men jerked from their slumber, their limbs a disoriented flailing for weapons without knowing how or why.

Amaris had to create time for them to mobilize while buying herself time to survive.