When the Moon Hatched (Moonfall, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

“Every word that comes out of your mouth is sharp, Moonbeam.”

“I’m half dead already, bleeding out at your feet...

Failing to muster any more words to wield, I poke my tongue out at him instead. He returns the gesture, and the corner of my mouth threatens to lift. The King just stuck his tongue out at me.

I’m so caught up in the trance that it takes me too long to notice the other moons upon the darkened expanse—ones I also recognize. Ones that crowd my favorite little moon in real life, like Kaan sat beneath that patch of sky while somebody mimicked the view with an inked etching stick. Almost perfectly. There’s one moon that’s out of place. The biggest—a silver moon I’ve never seen before, perched just beneath his right shoulder blade beside my little wonky one. I frown. That one doesn’t exist. Not anymore. That’s the one that fell.

My gaze narrows on the round, flat, black-and-silver carving that hangs from a braided strap of leather bound around his neck, absorbing the intricate design—a Sabersythe and a Moonplume locked in an embrace.

“If you stick those in me, I’m going to knee you in the cock.”

“That’s an improvement on being slaughtered,”

“You’ll certainly wish you ...

“There is only one thing that could take me back to that dark place,”

“And I will never let that happen again,”

“What’s that got to do with the pin in my shoulder?”

“Everything,”

“Said that if I survived their harsh and grueling training methods, I might earn his respect.”

“What . . . h-haaappened to . . . him?”

“I cut off his head, then fed him to Rygun.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because I was mourning someone I loved very much. I discovered my pah had done something unforgivable, and I took her revenge because I thought she no longer could. Now I have regrets.”

“What was . . . h-h...

“Ell...

“What happened to her?”

“She died,”

My blood chills. Torching cities . . . Slaying everything . . . Swift and merciful death . . . None of it stacks up for a king who apparently condones that from his beast. At least according to rumors.

“I think you accidentally tied this too tight,”

“I assure you,”

“that was no accident.”

“If my hands fall off, so will my iron cuffs, and then I’ll call upon Clode to suff...

“Such pretty pr...

“I’d prefer not to be seen with you if I can avoid it.”

Fuck you, too, Kaan Vaegor.

“I’m not particularly fond of being seen with you, either. Not unless I’m toting a pike w...

“Is there somewhere else I can spend the slumber?”

“Somewhere else?”

Feels wrong to step into a female’s warm, homely dwelling when I’ve fantasized about killing her son.

“This feels like a fami...

“I’m not family.”

Kaan’s coarse growl fills the space so abruptly I jolt, stare whipping back to him as he says,

“Get in the dwelling, Prisoner Seventy-Three. Or you’ll miss...

“I have nothing to gift in exchange for the time spent under your mah’s roof.”

“Your name will do.”

“Raeve.”

He pulls a breath—slow. Like he’s consuming a meal he’s been looking forward to for longer than I care to admit.

“Just Raeve?”

Another name sizzles through my soul like a burning scream. Fire Lark....

“Just R...

“You’re very stubborn,”

“So nice of you to say. I sharpen that weapon daily.”

“I can ...

There’s only been three documented moonfalls since folk began scribing our history onto scrolls, and each occurred somewhat recently. An adolescent Sabersythe barely three phases old that fell within the Boltanic Plains. A Moltenmaw large enough to destroy a chunk of the wall, littering the sky with a cloud of dust and sand that could be seen all the way from Gore. And a Moonplume . . . the first to fall in more than a million phases. Perhaps longer.

I’ve seen shards of it before, in a place where I was remade more times than I could count—those glorious shards one of the only forms of luster that didn’t cause me some sort of pain.

“You want to play rough, Moonbeam? We can play rough. But only after you eat.”