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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

“No!” she shouted, recoiling from the anarchy unfolding. No one heard her. Nothing stopped. She didn’t know what to do, how to help, how to intervene. The moon sang down on them, casting an incongruent pearly glow over the bloodlust on their faces.

The men brawled, poised to kill whatever had thundered through their campsite and torn them from their sleep. The light of the moon continued glinting in time with the clang of their weapons, washing their battle with its white glow. Amaris raised her hands helplessly, unable to do anything, to stop anything. She’d already expended too much energy, she’d fought, she’d run, she’d clawed for her life, and she no longer had the stamina to beat Ash or Malik in sparring. If she had to fling herself into the fight to slow them, she wasn’t sure that she could hold her own.

“Please,” she begged again, her voice weak.

The dark general seemed to have found his footing and began to advance on Ash, using his wings to thrust himself forward with one powerful beat.

She couldn’t stay still.

Amaris threw herself between Ash and the man with her arms outstretched, landing in the pool of blackened blood leeching from the fallen beseul. In the time it took for her to raise her hands, she saw the one called Zaccai fall, the weight of Malik’s foot pinning a single wing beneath him in an awkward bend. Zaccai’s weapon clattering to his side as he twisted for his wing. The fae raised a hand to stop the imminent killing blow. This was it. The general made a lunge to protect his man just as Amaris screamed.

“Malik, stop!” she cried. Her voice was the loudest thing in the forest.

The world stilled as he did as he was told.

The reever froze in time. Malik’s sword had been in the throes of full descent. Arms rigid above his head, he felt his emerald eyes widen as he found himself trapped mid-action, unable to complete the arc of his sword.

“Drop your weapon!”

Malik’s hand opened in a horrible, forced obedience, blade clattering to the ground. His panicked expression was exactly that of a caged animal. The reever slowly lowered his open hands, fear and revulsion coursing through him. He had always been immensely kind. Now his seething expression oozed only vitriol.

She shook her head wordlessly as he burned with pure, unadulterated betrayal. Amaris looked between the men—her brothers and the winged strangers. She soaked them in, unable to understand the conflict that tore her in two.