The Midnight Sovereign (Moonstone Bargain #1)

CHAPTER ONE

The body was lowered into the ground as the bell tolled midnight.

It was a troublesome time to convene a funeral, but I wasn’t about to break with centuries of tradition, or disregard Kaylin’s last request. She never got around to telling me why it was so important she be buried here, on the island, if she even knew herself.

Only that it was one of the promises she’d made when she officially became the Midnight Sovereign.

A promise I would also make in approximately three moons’ time.

And if I knew one thing to be true across the entire Realm of Olayra, it was this—when you made a promise to the land, it held you to your vow.

The pallbearers finished lowering Kaylin’s coffin into its intended resting place, the bell striking another chord.

For as long as I could remember, it had been magically attuned to the midnight hour.

Except its dwindling peal, while always solemn, had never before sounded so mournful.

There was a dreadful sense of finality to its ringing now, conveyed by each dying whisper of its fading song.

Kaylin’s husband, Edwin, stared blankly ahead, lightly swaying toward the edge of her grave as if it possessed its own gravitational pull.

Like at any moment, it might drag him down too and swallow him whole.

Their young daughter, Adriel, sucked a gulp of air back into her lungs as another loud sob racked her small frame.

I wouldn’t let myself cry. I didn’t have the right.

Kaylin’s family had brought her body back to the island begrudgingly.

They didn’t understand why it had to be this way, only that it was truly her desire and must be respected.

They blamed me.

I suspected the tradition had something to do with renewing the enchantments which kept the island and our little cottage—my little cottage now—safe from those who intended it any harm.

That knowledge wouldn’t make Kaylin’s family feel any better though; they didn’t live here on the island themselves, or have a personal stake in its protection.

I couldn’t fault them for feeling how they did, for loving her deeply and wishing they could keep her close.

A new set of villagers holding shovels prepared to pack the grave back in with dirt.

Before they began, they encouraged anyone who wished to partake to toss a flower onto the coffin.

The first toss was traditionally reserved for immediate family.

Even though I’d provided the flowers, I made no move to accompany Kaylin’s husband.

He shuffled forward, a dark purple carnation in hand.

He didn’t invite me to join him; I hadn’t really thought he would.

The rejection still stung.

Kaylin’s friends and close acquaintances, invited to the funeral by Edwin, paid their respects next, flowers piling up on the coffin’s lid.

Ever since Kaylin plucked me from the orphanage at age ten, it had only ever been the two of us on the island.

I was twenty years old now. A decade of relative social isolation.

It made the small crowd currently gathered in the cemetery downright suffocating.

Most of them I did not recognize. A few I did, from our excursions into Dewwick Village in the past, when someone had needed a midwife, and Kaylin had needed an assistant.

During our first few years together, our trips had been relatively frequent, often visiting the village once or twice in a single moon, depending upon the number of expectant mothers in our care.

After the birth of her daughter when I was fourteen years old, things had started to change.

Kaylin began to split her presence between the island and the village, raising Adriel at home with her husband.

I scanned the crowd of villagers, searching for familiar faces.

Of course, they were not the only funeral attendees.

The air was thick with magic. I could sense it—the sort of heady atmosphere I imagined must be common in the company of those who were either very old, or very powerful.

The Fae were, more often than not, both of those things, and so it didn’t surprise me to find them standing at the back of the crowd.

Their magic sent a chill up my spine, electrified the air around me.

Did they hail from one of the seasonal courts?

Perhaps they were from the Kingdom of Solaris and lived alongside humans.

Absentmindedly, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, tracing its pointed shape.

Pointed—indicative of Fae ancestry somewhere in my bloodline, but not nearly so elongated as to suggest I was a full-blooded Fae.

And yet, there were aspects of their physiology—their natural strength, their resistance to toxins, their aversion to cold-forged iron—that I still shared.

The most enviable being their long lifespan.

I might not live for a millennium, but I was practically guaranteed to live at least a few hundred years.

At least, according to Mitalar, the Fae patron of my orphanage.

He visited annually, always taking a special interest in my well-being.

He never showed any interest in adopting me, however.

The Fae were very particular about bloodlines, only ever seeming to want children from their own lineage.

Still, he’d taught me more about what it meant to have Fae blood flowing through my veins than anybody else ever could.

Whether that information comforted me or not was another story.

Despite the benefits, I could muster little gratitude for my ancestry.

It had likely kept me from being adopted by a human family as well.

And now, I had no one. It was daunting, staring down all the years ahead, knowing I might very well live them alone, isolated on my island.

I could only assume I possessed no living family anywhere in the realm.

At least, nobody had ever come to claim me.

I desperately wished I could say for certain.

Were my parents simply unable to care for me?

Or were they long dead? There were no clues as to their identities.

Maybe if there were, I could go find them and be less alone.

The villagers continued the grueling process of filling in the grave.

I flinched as a pile of shoveled dirt hit the coffin with a loud thud.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepared myself for the funeral’s next phase, the part I was dreading the most—the greeting line.

Was there a proper way to address each guest?

If there was some specific decorum to keep in mind, Kaylin had neglected to cover it.

Then again, to most of the attendees, I was simply a young woman.

I just hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of the attendees who expected more of me.

Those who recognized me as the next Midnight Sovereign.

I thought back to Kaylin’s instructions regarding her funeral.

“Listen closely, Elvira. I don’t mean to be morbid, but there are certain things that need to happen should I pass.

” Her voice, hoarse from fatigue, wavered sorrowfully at the admission of her rapidly declining health, but she’d composed herself and continued on.

“For starters, you must notify every monarch in the realm. I’ll show you how to address the correspondence.

Don’t worry though; none of them will attend the funeral.

Goodness, could you imagine? Royalty appearing on our doorstep? ”

Fortunately, the island was home to a roost of ravens with the curious ability to deliver messages and still find their way back home afterward.

All you had to do was state the kingdom you wished to reach and one of the ravens would accept the correspondence, croaking in agreement, their tongues capable of mimicking human speech.

After Kaylin’s passing, I’d done as she’d instructed—I’d sent word of her death to each monarch in the realm.

The ghost of her nervous chuckle echoed through my mind.

“As you are well aware, we keep the history of the realm. We don’t make it.

True neutral ground, here on our island, at the center of the five kingdoms. They won’t bother with us.

Of course, we’ve kept the official title for old times’ sake.

Tradition and the like, when our predecessors used to make deals at midnight.

It’s all formality now…nothing but formality…

keeping us beholden to this island—you and me both.

I often think of what my life could have been if I hadn’t been taken away to this apprenticeship…

” A note of bitterness had crept into her voice then, like it always did when she discussed our shared fate.

Despite her weakened condition, she’d gripped my hands tightly. “Promise me you’ll leave my daughter alone. When the time comes to choose an apprentice. Pick somebody else. And Elvira, I do hope…once things have stabilized…that someday you’ll find a life of your own to live like I did.”

Turns out, Kaylin had been partially correct.

There were no queens or kings in the crowd.

But a few of the kingdoms had sent an official envoy to express their regrets at her passing.

And certainly some of the other guests, those who clearly possessed magic of one sort or another, could be considered…

notable. Like the few Fae I spotted earlier, or the woman in the back, whose long black cloak screamed witch.

Those who had known to attend, even though Kaylin’s death had not been widely advertised.