Palace of Moonlight

by Payton Taylor

  This book is rated R for sexual situations, violence, and language. Not suitable for audiences 17 and younger.

  WRITHIA

  Palace of Moonlight

  The Corvinus Chronicles Book 2

  Dedicated to our Mawmaw Judy. We love and miss you!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  About the authors

  Prologue

  Azmodeous

  Writhia, 4987

  Vianna

  A burst of melodious laughter filled my ears and my head whipped to the sound as if on instinct.

  Eleyna.

  The feel of silk brushed my fingertips as I reached for my handkerchief, and the smell of wet bark wafted through the air as I dabbed my brow. I was still getting used to the humidity of Vianna.

  She found me in the woods, leaning against a tree, a small bird perched upon my shoulder.

  "Making friends now, are we?" she said, a bright smile still on her face.

  I could get lost in that smile. When she smiled, her entire face lit with some inner light. It was filled with friendship and warmth and a bit of mischief.

  I didn't tell her that I hadn't come out here to make friends. I had come out to brood. To be alone. I'd had enough of watching them. Together.

  Instead, I smiled back. "She was hungry. Who am I to let this poor creature starve to death?" Its sharp beak pecked at my hand as I held up seeds for it to nibble on.

  I didn't know what species she was, but she was bright blue. The blue of the Viannese sky. The blue of Eleyna's eyes.

  Eleyna tsked. "Has Azmodeous Moreau, future King of Ettria, gone soft?"

  "Maybe," I grinned.

  "Silvius wanted me to come find you."

  I cringed inwardly, but I nodded to Eleyna as I attempted to keep my grin in place.

  Silvius. My brother, who loved her.

  I rolled my eyes. "Do we have to? I'm having fun with my new friend."

  I beckoned her closer, gesturing for her to pet the bird.

  The sequins of her top shimmered in the sunlight as she hiked up her long linen skirt, skipping over to me. I fought to keep my eyes from dipping to her exposed midriff. The expanse of golden skin that was revealed was tantalizing.

  Once she was before me, laughter danced in her eyes. "Oh, so you deem me worthy enough to meet your friends?"

  I forced myself to laugh lightly, but deep down, I knew she and Silvius were my only friends.

  A breeze suddenly blew, carrying with it her fresh saltwater scent, which still lingered even though she hadn't visited her coastal home in months.

  Her golden hair fell back as she tilted her head up to peer at the bird on my shoulder. Eleyna was such a force, I often forgot how small she was.

  Her eyes grew serious and she formally bowed her head. "It is an honor to meet a friend of Azmodeous Moreau."

  A surprised chuckle fell from my lips as she reached up to stroke the tiny feathers along the bird's neck.

  As she continued to pet the bird, her eyes strayed up to mine and held my stare. Against my will, heat rose to my cheeks. She loved Silvius, of that I had no doubt, but sometimes, she looked at me in a way that made me think that perhaps she could love me, too.

  As our eyes continued to hold, she whispered, "Silvius is waiting."

  Let him wait . The words were on the tip of my tongue.

  But she took a step back, clearing her throat. "Race you!" She laughed before she took off, her blonde tresses flowing behind her like golden flames.

  I watched her graceful movements for a moment before I took off after her, my long legs easily reaching her. We ran side by side, our arms brushing occasionally. She went to stick a foot out to trip me, but I saw it coming.

  "Maddow's wind!" she cursed, sticking her tongue out at me.

  "You always cheat!" I tried to scowl but ended up laughing. My worries of the moment we had shared faded with the sound of her laughter.

  As we neared the edge of the forest, the trees parted and Silvius came into view.

  Eleyna sped up, and as she ran up to him, he lifted her, spinning her in the air as if they were the only two in Writhia.

  Jealousy caught in my throat, making it hard to breathe. This was why I had left before. The two of them together. So obviously in love. Disgusting.

  Silvius didn't know how good he had it. As perfect and spoiled as he was, he wasn't capable of realizing that he held the most precious thing in Writhia in his hands.

  That should be me.

  It could be, the dark thought whispered through my mind.

  Part of me wanted to take her from him, but I couldn't do that to him.

  Silvius. My brother. Our father's favorite son.

  Of course he would get the girl, too. He was better looking, better with the sword. Better at everything. Not to mention, our father recognized him as a son. . . not a bastard.

  He would most certainly be named King of Vianna and would have the perfect woman at his side.

  What if he didn't, though? What if I could somehow make Eleyna love me? Become my queen. Bear my children.

  I let a small smile fill my face at the thought.

  Silvius took my smile to mean I was happy to see him. "Better luck next time, brother." He gave a crooked smile.

  It took me a moment to realize he was talking about mine and Eleyna's little race.

  "Eleyna's a cheater, and you know it." "Where's your proof?" she grinned.

  Silvius put an arm around her and I wanted to knock it off her shoulders. I wanted revenge. I wanted Silvius to suffer as much as I had.

  No.

  I cut off that line of thinking. Silvius wasn't trying to hurt me on purpose. He'd always been kind to me. It wasn't his fault that he had grown up in Vianna with Queen Asteria who loved him dearly, and I had to grow up with a cold mother and an absent father.

  Though we shared the same father, I doubted Silvius ever had to bear the shame I did. When Father died, Silvius had mourned and cried at his funeral. When I heard the news, I'd had to fight off a smile. Such stark relief had filled me that I had wanted to celebrate.

  "I was wondering if you wanted to stay with me an extra week? Before going back to Ettria. I thought we could all go to Melifluos, like old times. We miss you." He smiled sincerely.

  With Eleyna and Silvius' twin smiles it was hard to say no, but could I do it? Another week of this? Seeing them like this?

  "I know that face," Eleyna said. "That's your 'I'm going to say no' face."

  Before I could muster up an excuse, and also
marvel at the fact that she knew me so well, Asteria appeared.

  "So good to see you, Azmodeous," she said. I put a hand to my chest with a nod. "Queen

  Asteria."

  She gave a deceptive smile. You will not stay here with us.

  And why not?

  Because I don't want you to influence my son, the future king of Vianna .

  Silvy's a big boy. I'm sure he can make his own decisions.

  You're a bastard child. Leave.

  I pursed my lips. Eleyna and Silvius, still smiling, had no idea of the conversation the queen and I were having.

  I'm the future king of Ettria. Silvius is my brother. I have every right to be here.

  Her smile turned cruel. Still a bastard, she tutted.

  I knew she didn't actually care that I was a bastard. She cared that I was her husband's bastard, the product of his infidelity with another woman.

  I clenched my jaw. "I'm afraid I won't be able to stay. I have a lot of work to do back home."

  Disappointment flickered across their faces. "We understand," Eleyna said.

  "What a shame," Asteria murmured. "Yes," I said, "it is."

  As we said our goodbyes, and I was getting on a trysk back to Ettria, a dark voice slithered into my mind.

  I could give you everything you want.

  I flinched at the voice that would sometimes appear in my mind. As a Murmur, I should be able to sense whenever anyone entered my thoughts.

  But this was different.

  What is it you think I want? I asked it.

  You seek that woman's love and approval. You want power. You want to be better than your half-brother.

  Respected. Revered.

  I flinched at the truth of those words.

  I covered my hands over my ears, my thoughts repeating the same mantra like a chorus in a song.

  You're not real You're not real You're not real You're not real.

  I am, and I will give you those things, but first, I need you to do something for me.

  I hesitated before asking, What? I need you to let me in.

  Chapter 1

  Westin

  Writhia, 5220

  The Wastes

  They were after him.

  Westin Airoldi was running for his life. This was nothing new; he'd been running for months now, though he wasn't exactly sure how many. Seven? Eight? With no exit and no way to escape, time seemed to blur together in the Wastes.

  A twig snapped somewhere to his right and he veered to the left, toward the only known source of fresh water that existed in that putrid land. His sensitive hearing picked up the harsh breathing of the beasts that he knew were tracking him. He was fast, but some of the beasts were faster.

  He'd run into this gang before. They used a demonic hybrid of some of the most dangerous creatures alive, capable of tracking their prey for miles. He could hear them hissing, tasting the air to pick up his scent. The gang took their name after the creatures, the Lykkas.

  Translated directly, the name meant "big smiles," given to the beasts because of their oversized teeth that made it impossible to close their mouths, so it always appeared as if they were grinning.

  After seeing the animals up close, Westin no longer found the name amusing. But he knew someone who would.

  Noelani. . .

  Sometimes, thoughts of her were the only thing that helped him through the harsh nights. But with the thoughts of her came the pain of what had happened. Pain, and burning curiosity as he wondered what had happened after she had sent him away. Was she safe? Was she hurt?

  He supposed it was too much to hope that she had escaped.

  He knew she was alive, though. He could feel it, could feel their Match bond, dulled by time and distance, but still there. He couldn't tell where she was, he only knew she was far away. It wasn't like when they were together, and he could feel her emotions almost as strongly as he could feel his own. Instead, all he felt was a distant despair. And, strangely, a raw sense of determination.

  Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she was fighting. He knew that much.

  The beasts were getting closer now. He could practically feel their hot breath against his sweat-slick skin. He was almost at the water, the river with no name. You couldn't give a name to life itself.

  The leaves to his left rustled and one of the Lykkas burst through, landing directly in front of him.

  Agares’ bloody bird! Westin cursed to himself.

  The Lykka's barbed tail swished back and forth, dripping with poison. The tail of one of the creatures had swung around, lightning fast, to rake across his ear in their last battle. He hadn't even heard it coming. He couldn't hear anything with his left ear anymore. One cut was all it took for the poison to enter his bloodstream and cause his hearing to fade. He hadn't been able to get to the healer fast enough, if that was even the correct term for someone like her.

  The Lykka's body was that of a cougar with dark brown fur and rough, black scales down its spine. Its tail, its most dangerous weapon, was almost as long as Westin was tall, topped with poisoned barbs and capable of strangling large animals to death. Its head was the head of a reptile, covered in black scales and sharp spines.

  It growled menacingly at him and he scented the others closing in around him. He needed to get to the water. Fast.

  As Westin shifted left and right, trying to find an angle to get through, the Lykka's tail swayed back and forth like a snake, following his every move, ready to strike.

  Around his waist was a belt made of animal hide that held the stone daggers he had crafted by hand. He moved as fast as he could, grabbing two daggers from his belt and hurling them at the beast. With two solid thunks , the knives embedded themselves deep into the creature's eye sockets. Without so much as a whimper, the Lykka slumped to the ground.

  The other Lykkas howled in mourning as they felt the death of one of their pack members.

  Westin took off again toward the water. As he ran, branches whipped at his face, stinging his skin, but he was used to that by now.

  As he broke through the trees next to the river, wary faces gaped at him. Mothers pulled their children to them, trying to hide them behind their threadbare skirts. Others reached for weapons, blunt swords and rusty knives, ready for a fight.

  This was the Lykkas' land, and their huts were spread along the riverbank. Ramshackle shelters were made from anything and everything they could find to build with. Sheets of metal, rusted through with holes. Branches from trees and bundles of driftwood, bleached white by the relentless sun. Boulders and smaller stones, covered in moss. As one of the strongest gangs, they had fought and killed for that land along the riverbank. Only the strongest groups controlled land near the water. Water was their most vital resource and there wasn't enough for everybody, so the gangs fought tooth and nail for every inch of land they could get along the riverbank. In the Wastes, water was everything, vital to every cause: currency, nourishment, first aid. To have access to water was to have a significantly higher chance of survival.

  Water was power.

  Westin, a man on his own, had to fight for every sip, every bath, every drop. He'd almost died countless times, his final thoughts before losing consciousness filled with cool water and golden hair and the scent of wildflowers.

  Before anyone could stop him, he barreled into the water. Behind him, he heard several shouts as the Lykkas burst through the trees after him. Once he was in deep enough, he took a deep breath and dove underwater.

  Thankfully, the Lykkas couldn't swim after him.

  The water was blessedly cool against his sweat- soaked skin. Twigs and silt floated around him like an aura, swirling in the currents of his movements. Fish darted away from him, their scales flashing silver in the light that filtered down from the surface. Westin reached out, quick as a cat, and snagged a couple of them, shoving them into the pouch on his belt and pulling its string tightly closed.

  Westin wasn't sure how long he swam, half a league perhaps, befo
re he had to come up for air. Since all the land along the river belonged to gangs, he was quick about coming up for air. The last thing he needed was to be spotted and have another gang after him.

  He swam a league or two further, coming up for breath a couple times more before he judged that he had put enough distance between him and the Lykkas.

  He surfaced in an area he knew well. It was where the gangs sometimes let outsiders bathe if they paid the right price. He tried to blend in with the few bathers as he made his way toward the bank.

  As he emerged, his scrap of luck held, and nobody questioned him. Once he made it to the trees, he reached behind him and brought forward the clay jug that hung from his shoulder by a leather strap.

  "All that for a jug of water," he mused. Shaking his head, he began his journey back to the hut where he had been staying.

  As he neared the one-room hut he'd claimed for himself, he couldn't help but glance at the recently dug grave to the right.

  The previous owner.

  His hands tightened against his will as he reached the heavy slab of wood that blocked the door. It would take several men to move it, but Westin could manage it on his own. He took out his daggers and entered slowly, prepared for an ambush. It wouldn't be the first time he'd come back to find people lying in wait. Or even the second.

  Thankfully, the room was empty, and Westin's shoulders sagged in relief before he turned to pull his makeshift door back into place. Walking over to the lone, chair-less table, he emptied that day's findings onto it: the two small river fish, no bigger than his hand, and his jug of water.