PROLOGUE
THE
RITUAL
The air about tonight was unsettling. Or maybe it was in my head. Ripley hadn’t shown up beside me out of the blue yet, and it was nearing three in the morning. By now, I would be begging her to return to the castle and leave me alone. She was four, a full five years younger than me, and needed her sleep, but I did like that she’d rather spend her time near me.
Between her absence and this strange dread weighing in my gut, something felt off. I stared at thestarry skies above, agitated and distracted, swinging my cream-colored hammock with the one leg that hung over the edge. She would have loved this. She loved the stars. And this was the first time in weeks it wasn’t overcast.
Maybe she didn’t come tonight because she was still upset. I didn’t mean to push her away so forcefully, but she had been chasing me all afternoon through the market and alleyways. She had hugged me in front of a crowdandher parents. I didn’t know how else to react. I saw the disapproval in their eyes. Me with the princess of Elizy. What a joke.
That dread in my gut latched onto something even darker, and my heart began hammering.
Something was coming for me. It weaved its way through the kingdom, slithering beyond the borders of Elizy, climbing the steep hill and up the two trees my hammock was tied to until its presence wrapped around my throat. If even me, an outcast, could sense the thick chaos headed for Elizy, then treachery had to be in our midst.
I sat up in alarm, carefully observing the kingdom that ran by the bottom of the hill. The scatter of houses planted in a field of grass at the base of themountain all had their lights off. Even the castle that stood high above its residents was in a deep slumber.
I squinted my eyes, relieved that a glimmer of light from the crescent moon shone over Ripley’s balcony on the third story. Through the glass doors, I noticed her light was off too.
Then, like a screaming cannonball, it hit me. Something was wrong.
Something with Ripley.
I could feel it in my bones. I could feel it in my magic. I tensed as my breathing hitched. She was in trouble. She was lost. Hurt.
Had she tried to teleport here and missed? Had her magic gone wonky again?
My magic pulsed lilac beneath my skin like a lighthouse beckoning for Ripley. Or wasshecalling out tome?
Her vibrant gray eyes appeared in my mind, and they glittered with tears. The echoes of her cries exploded within me as she screamed for help. For me. She was screaming my name.
Fletcher!
It was as if she had sunk an arrow into my heart and was trying to yank it free. But, until she did, I was hooked.
I shook my head, scrubbed my hands over my cheeks, and listened again, trying to discern from which direction her distress signal was coming.
Then, three houses lit up. One on the outskirts of the kingdom, one in the middle, and one near the castle.
I watched carefully as three boys stepped out of the houses with flashing purple skin. They took a moment to stare up into the mountains before I watched them all lean into a run.
“Ripley,” I breathed. They heard her too. They were going for her. But she didn’t want them. She wanted me.
I scrambled out of my hammock, clasped a hanging branch in front of me, and swung myself off the hill into a forward roll. With the momentum, I leaped into a sprint in the direction of the mountains. I called my magic forth, but it felt trapped, stuck in my body. It wouldn’t swirl down my arms in the only way I knew how. Instead, my skin continued to strobe, slow and steady.
Why the hell wasn’t my magic working? I lengthened my stride until I could feel the pull on my legs as I moved even faster, continuing to reach for my magic.
A fresh wave of dread hollowed me again. Her distress signal was getting louder. I was getting closer. I could see the snowcapped mountains close by as I hurdled over fallen trees.
Her screams echoed through the crisp air, mixing with her sobs. The lilt in Ripley’s delicate voice clutched tight around my heart, dragging me faster. I had to reach her before the other boys did. Because if I failed, she would never trust me again. I’d lose her.
Fletch—Her voice was strained and reverberated as if she was calling me on the other side of a canyon.
“I’m coming,” I whispered, hoping my magic would send her my words to calm her suffering.
I reached the mountain before the other boys, hands slamming against the cool rock to brace myself from my sprint. But as I gripped the rock to begin the climb, something shifted in the air. She was moving.
Help!
