Between (The Chronicles of Between, #1)

by L.L. Starling

When she had informed her friends and loved ones that she planned to take a teaching position in Old Middleton—a village cradled deep in the woods of Wisconsin—they had warned her that the place was bound to be a little old-fashioned (“Quaint,” said one, with a knowing smirk); a little isolated (“Just imagine the peace and quiet!” said another, with forced cheer); and exceptionally dull (“You can brush up on your quilting … and your jam-making … and your alcoholism,” said another still, with a sympathetic pat on Sasha’s shoulder).

“Right,” she whispered, psyching herself up for what lay ahead. “Bring on the darkness.”

“Are you trying to engage me in some sort of seduction fantasy?” His voice, rich and low and satin-smooth—a voice that could invoke shivers and longings—was positively drenched in disbelief. Sasha felt her disappointment turn to irritation. “Well, would it be that terrible if I was trying to engage you in a seduction fantasy?” The man shook his head, clearly disappointed in her. “Yes. Yes, it would. Of all the dreams at your disposal, of all the wonders that you could experience, why would you want to engage in a common seduction fantasy? You truly need to dream bigger.”

“I will come for you, Sasha Evangeline Pierce.” He stared down at her fiercely, his green eyes so vibrant that, for a moment, Sasha was transfixed. “Wait for me.”

“Snap out of it,” she told Sasha, shaking her vigorously. “There’s no time for this now! Now, you need to be strong. Now, you need to be brave. You can have a breakdown later.”

“Many thanks. Nevertheless, I have no desire to lead you astray; when it comes to charm, you are thinking of fairy tale princes, not fairy tale kings. Princes have nothing more to do than gallivant around kingdoms, wooing women, and drinking wine. Kings, on the other hand, are forced to spend their time in serious pursuits, like raising taxes, maintaining order, and kicking unruly citizens into swamps. It sours our temperament somewhat.”

She turned to the Shadow King, eyes fierce, hands on her hips. “I don’t need to remind you that Sasha asked for this time in Old Middleton as part of her first boon—and that kidnapping her would be a violation of that boon, do I?” The King inclined his head. “Many thanks for the reminder; I had forgotten completely. I would have kidnapped Her Majesty and dragged her back to Between, kicking and screaming, without your timely words. How lucky we are that you are here!”

The Not-King rapped his knuckles against the mirror’s surface, confirming Sasha’s discovery. “I am trapped inside. There is no way for me to get out. Please.…” He lowered his voice, his expression solemn. “Do not be afraid of me. Not you. Never you.”

He gave the impression of barely contained things: wrath and vengeance and horrific endings, wrapped in darkness and shadows. Sasha decided to ignore it all. “I’m so happy to see you! I’m gonna hug you. A lot.”

“Kneel before the Queen of Between,” he ordered quietly, his tone as sharp as a blade.

“But ... it’s only fair to warn you that I get bored easily. And then I usually leave. And according to my last two—three—maybe four boyfriends, I’m too sexually demanding. Which is such a double standard,” she said testily, old grievances making her downright mad. “First, they’re happy about it, and then it’s, ‘I have a headache, Sasha.’ Or: ‘We already did it three times today, Sasha.’ Or: ‘I think you broke me, Sasha.’ The pretty ones break so quickly. No stamina.” She looked up at him accusingly. “You’re pretty.”

No one has ever looked so joyous to see me, Lorn thought to himself as he slipped off into sleep. Make her joyous to see you, a voice cajoled deep in the recesses of his mind. Such were the very small crumbs of affection that the Shadow King had received in his life that his heart clutched at that vision of a smile and gave him his sweetest slumber in years.

It makes you feel dreadfully important, he thought, watching her smile giddily as she continued to plan his birthday, to be the subject of all that unbridled interest and enthusiasm. It makes you feel so very seen.

“Also, while you are at it, you should get a present for our lovely Queen.” “Why ever would I do that?” Lorn called over his shoulder. “Because, while rescuing her from her attackers in the swamp, you informed her that you would rather have your face melted off than receive one of her hugs.”

“I know that you are exhausted and demoralized and so, so lonely for the type of companionship that those around you cannot provide. That loneliness can leach away your strength just as much as tirelessly working toward an impossible task. You are beset within and without.”