 
# Alex and Azalea

## Melody Robinette

#### Melody Robinette

### Contents

Alex and Azalea

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Foreword

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

Continue the journey...with OAKEN—Book 1 of the Underground Series

Read the rest of the series now

Also by Melody Robinette

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About the Author

# Alex and Azalea

### a Novella

Prequel to the Underground Series
Copyright 2016 by Melody Robinette

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

* * *

This story is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

* * *

Cover illustration and jacket design by Deranged Doctor Design

Editing by Esther Doucet

Available in ebook and paperback

* * *

<http://www.melodyrobinette.com>
For Morgan/Bethany.

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# Foreword

Alex and Azalea IS set before the time of Oaken, but this is a separate story and can be read before, after, or even during the rest of the Underground Series. I'm so glad you chose to download this book, and I hope you fall in love with Ireland, the Underground, and of course...Alex and Azalea.

# 1

### Royal Disaster

_H umans couldn't handle the magical creatures anymore. There were too many of us. So, they burned us at stakes, calling us witches, calling us evil. But we had something they couldn't touch. Magic. Something we could use to get away from them forever, to build a place safe from them. So we did. The magical community came together to create our own utopia. The Underground. A place of magic, beauty, and peace. A place where..._

"Nothing ever happens," Alex muttered, crumpling up the speech he'd written twenty times at least.

He shot it towards the wastebasket. It missed, sailing through the door that was now suddenly open. His father—King Olympus Orpheus Oaken—stood in the threshold, clutching the discarded paper ball in his left hand.

"Ready, Son?" he asked in his booming, jolly voice. "Big night tonight. First speech before the Underground Council. Are you prepared?"

Alex rose from his seat, straightening his lapel, and cracking his neck from nerves. This didn't release the stiffness. It may have made it worse. "Of course I'm prepared. Why wouldn't I be? I've been perfecting my speech all day."

Olympus's eyes moved to the wastebasket filled with crumpled balls of paper. "I see that."

Alex and his father walked side by side, Olympus slightly in the lead, to the room reserved only for the annual Underground Council meeting. In the past, this was the place Alex had been told to stay away from no matter what. Before his mother died, she would take him out of the castle until the meeting was over. He didn't know what they expected him to do. Set the castle on fire? Scream like a petalsie that had been stepped on? Either way, he was banished from the castle on the last day of May of every year.

This was the first year Alex would be allowed to participate. And frankly, he was terrified. As a young boy, he'd pictured dangerous creatures milling about while Olympus tried to keep them under control. This would be the first time Alex would see any of the creatures. Other than in books, the magical creatures didn't see much of each other. The Great Underground War had left a bitter taste in all of their mouths.

"Remember, all of these creatures are much older and wiser than you," Olympus muttered as they neared the Underground Council room. "Only speak when spoken to. Deliver your speech and then sit down and listen. Understood?"

Alex loosened the fabric around his neck and cleared his throat. "Under—er—yeah. Got it."

Pausing at the threshold, Olympus took one final look Alex's way before letting the door swing open. At first, Alex thought maybe they'd gotten the wrong room. No one was fighting or mawing like animals. They were all sitting around a donut-shaped table. Except for the horse-woman. _Centaur_ , Alex thought, _not horse-woman_. She was standing.

The room was tall and wide, perhaps to accommodate the leader of the giants—a massive woman who took up the width of five elves and the height of just as many. She was proportionate for her size. And beautiful. Just...really big. She sat cross-legged on the ground before the raised table, which still only reached her waist.

Olympus beckoned Alex inside, who quickly shut the door behind him, moving to stand beside his beaming father.

"Welcome, everyone." Olympus spread his arms wide. "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce my son, Alexander Olympus Oaken. He will be training to take my place as king."

Alex felt the eyes of the other leaders scrape over him in judgment. _This boy will be king_? That's what they were thinking, Alex assumed. He straightened his back, trying to look more intimidating than he really was.

He'd just turned eighteen and was finally growing into himself. His ears didn't stick out quite so much, and his daily physical training sessions were bulking him up a bit. But he was still helplessly awkward. To Olympus' chagrin. Olympus was a force. A solid block of kingliness. The exact opposite of Alex.

"He will be delivering the welcoming speech this evening," Olympus continued, flashing Alex a proud smile. "Whenever you're ready, Son."

Alex felt his shoulders rising to meet his ears and forced them back down, clearing his throat. Once. Twice. Then a third time. "Yes, uh, well. Thanks, Dad. Er—Olympus. King."

_Getting off to a great start._

"Well—er—welcome to Arbor Castle, everyone. It's always an honor to host the leaders of the Underground here. Always an honor." Throat clear. "I wanted to start out by remembering how we came to be here. In the Underground. Er, humans. They didn't exactly like us, did they? Too much magic. Too much. Anyway. We came together to get away from them. Built the Underground. With magic."

The expression on the faces of the leaders around the table turned from mildly interested to pained. Alex's speech was literally hurting them. Which, of course, just made it worse. His words began to run together and the longer he talked, the more tongue-tied he became. Finally, he gave up. "So. Yeah. Thanks again for coming today and I will turn it back over to my dad—the, er, king. Elf king."

Olympus's face was a few shades pinker than usual, and he was smiling tightly, rearranging the papers in front of him. Alex hoped he wouldn't remark on the speech or bring any more attention to it than was absolutely necessary.

"Well," Olympus said. "Let's just get started, shall we?"

Alex sank lower in his seat, wishing his Power was the ability to melt into other objects.

_Music_. Ha. Not the most kingly of Powers.

# 2

### Green Everything

"First time to Ireland, love?"

Azalea peeled her forehead off the airplane window, looking around to the woman who'd been sleeping beside her for the majority of the flight.

"Yep," Azalea said with an anxious smile. "First time out of the country, ever."

"Backpacking?"

"Studying."

The woman smiled broadly. She had kind blue eyes and a head full of crazy brown hair, which her curls made to appear about a thousand times thicker.

"Ah. That's lovely, dear," the woman said. "What will you be studying?"

"Irish culture, I think," Azalea said with uncertainty. The program hadn't been all that clear on what they would be learning. Just that they would be in the classroom in the morning and off exploring in the afternoon. "Are you from Ireland?"

A twinkle appeared in the woman's eyes, and she looked past Azalea out the window, as though she were seeing something that wasn't there. "Not originally, no."

Azalea waited for the woman to continue, but she didn't. She decided not to push the matter. Her dad had warned her how different the culture would be from Texas and she didn't know if it was considered rude to ask someone where they were from. So, she just smiled a tight-lipped grin and looked back out the window.

"My son is about your age," the woman said after a moment. "He's a wild little rascal, that one."

"What's his name?"

"Wesley. Wesley King."

Azalea smiled again, not sure if she should comment. Wasn't it weird to say, 'Oh, that's a lovely name,' when you were talking about an adult child?

So, she asked another question to avoid the issue. "Does he live in Dublin?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes he lives with me in Blarney. Sometimes he travels...other places."

"Oh, Blarney," Azalea said, recognizing the name. "Like the Blarney Stone?"

"That castle's not far from my home, in fact," the woman said. "You must visit."

"Your home?"

"No, dear." She chuckled. "Blarney Castle. It truly is a beautiful view from the top. I wouldn't recommend kissing the stone, I'm afraid. The locals think it's funny to urinate on it."

Azalea made a face.

The woman chuckled. "Though, you'd be welcome to visit my home if you so desired. Can't say there's much to see. But there is a quaint little pub next door my son likes to frequent. They're having an open mic night tonight if you find yourself without something to do."

"That sounds like fun."

"Here." The woman ripped out a page of the magazine she was holding and scribbled an address on it. "I'll get you a round of free pints. I know the owner rather well. I think he fancies me. Strange man. Kind, but strange. You are eighteen, right?"

"I am. I'm eighteen."

"And my name is Evangeline by the way. Evangeline King. But you can just call me Ms. King like all my son's friends. I quite prefer it. My first name is such a mouthful. And don't even think about calling my Eva."

Azalea chuckled, thanking Ms. King as she took the piece of paper.

The pilot came on the speaker then, announcing that they were beginning their descent into Dublin. Pressing her forehead against the window again, Azalea peered down at the mass of emerald land beneath them. She'd never seen so much green at once.

Excitement bubbled up in Azalea's stomach. This was the first time she'd ever been away from home for more than a weekend. And now she would be far, far from home for a whole month.

When the plane arrived at the gate, Azalea waved goodbye to Ms. King, tucking the piece of paper with her address in her bag. The students in the program were meant to meet at baggage claim. Squirming worms of nerves wriggled in her gut as she made her way through the airport, taking in all the unfamiliar signage, some of which was written in Irish Gaelic.

Only getting lost twice, Azalea made it to baggage claim, standing beside the metal carousel designated for her flight. Scanning the faces of the others waiting, she tried to figure out who might be a fellow student. With a groan, the carousel began to move, soon spitting out suitcases and duffel bags. Azalea watched for hers—a neon green monster.

Just then a girl with puffy black curls moved quickly past her. "That one's mine, that's mine!" she squealed in a definite American accent. "Sir, could you—okay, or not. Excuse me. Sorry. So, sorry about that, ma'am. I just need to get to my—s'cuse me!"

The girl was practically crawling across the people standing by, knocking a few down as she clawed the air towards a purple plastic suitcase covered in heart stickers.

The bag made its way in front of Azalea. "Here," she said, grabbing hold of the purple handle of the suitcase and pulling it over the lip of the carousel.

"Cheese and rice. Thank you so much." The girl brushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "First day in a foreign country and I'm off to a magnificent start, pushing over locals and what not."

"It's my first time too," Azalea said with a reassuring smile.

"Oh my gosh, are you studying abroad too? With CIEE?"

Azalea felt a rush of relief course over her, suddenly feeling not so alone. "Yes! At DCU?"

"Yes!"

The two girls immediately formed a silent pact of friendship, waiting for Azalea's monster of a bag to appear. The girl liked to talk. A lot. Which was fine with Azalea because she preferred to listen. She learned that the girl's name was Zariah and that she was from Portland, Oregon. She was studying to be a veterinarian at Portland State University, and she'd just broken up with her boyfriend so she wouldn't feel tied down while she was abroad.

"Look at that one," Zariah said, pointing at a neon green suitcase falling heavily onto the metal carousel. "That's hideous."

"That's mine." Azalea lunged forward, clutching onto the handle and tugging it over.

"Well...your suitcase is hideous," Zariah stated playfully.

"My dad wanted me to get one that was unique in case I lost it. So I'd be able to tell them exactly what it looks like."

"It's unique all right." Zariah snorted. "Let's go find the rest of our peeps."

Their peeps were easily spotted once the throng of people filling the baggage claim trickled out. An older gentleman wearing a flat cap and a knitted sweater vest held a bright yellow sign that said CIEE STUDENTS. Azalea thought he looked like an adorable grandpa.

A girl with dyed red and black hair and sleeves of tattoos stood stonily beside the man, sandwiched between a dark haired boy-next-door and a tall, rocker-chic guy with frosted hair slicked back with gel.

As the girls approached, the older man with the sign said, "You must be Zariah and Azalea, the last of our group." The girls nodded and the man said, "Call me Peter. Welcome to Ireland! And we're off to the bus."

The five students followed Peter like ducklings out of the airport and onto the bus. It smelled of rubber and stale tobacco, but no one complained. They were too excited to complain. The bus groaned to life and proceeded to pull out of the airport.

The tattooed girl—Raina—wasn't all that social, sticking in her earbuds and staring out the window as the others huddled in the back. Azalea wondered if someone forced her to come on this trip against her will.

"I'm Joe," said the boy-next-door, grinning broadly as he shook hands with everyone but Raina. "And I'm going to the University of Michigan to be an actor."

"An actor?" Zariah said. "You have to go to college for that? Aren't you just supposed to move to California, go to auditions, and get discovered while you're waiting tables in Hollywood?"

"Not if you want to be on Broadway," Joe countered.

"Wow, Joe, I'm impressed," the flamboyant, frosted-haired boy named Shayn said. "I would've pegged you for pre-law or pre-med or pre-businessman or something."

Joe was from Philadelphia and had better eyebrows than Azalea. With his shaped brows, leather pants, and eyeliner, he looked like a mix between a rocker and a drag queen.

When the others found out Azalea was from Texas they visibly recoiled. "You're one of the good ones, right?" Shayn said. "Cause I've had a few unfortunate run-ins with Texans."

Azalea laughed nervously, clutching onto the back of the cloth seat in front of her. "I'm one of the good ones."

"It's only nine here. We have a free evening before orientation tomorrow," Zariah said, scanning the papers in the folder they'd each been given with their itineraries. "Want to go somewhere for the afternoon...and maybe some of the night?"

"Where do you want to go?" Joe asked. "Everything's so close together in this country. We could go anywhere really."

Azalea remembered the folded paper in her bag with Ms. King's address written on it.

"I think I know where we can go."

# 3

### Through the Waterfall

"I'm sure it wasn't _that_ bad, Al."

Alex shot his friend, John, a side-eyed glare. "Yes, it was, actually. It was that bad."

A group of recently-graduated elves sat on the edge of Arbor Lake, a sprawling mass of still water in the center of a ring of tall trees. It was one of the few places young elves congregated. Not that there were many places in which to gather anyhow. Arbor Falls was a quiet little elf town. Full of quiet people going about their own business. Alex hated to think what the other elf cities in the Underground were like if this was considered the capital. Elves probably sleep-walked through the streets.

"Are you even supposed to be telling us this?" John's girlfriend, Penelope, said from beneath the crook of her boyfriend's arm. "Isn't this top-secret castle business?"

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Alex shrugged. "Probably. See? I'm just not king material. Here I am, giving the secrets of the Underground away without a thought."

John and Penelope had been bound to each other for the past two years. They were the annoyingly perfect couple that everyone both envied and adored. John was a Quinn Warrior, making it through the Warrior Test and Trial with nothing short of ease. And Penelope worked out of their home, using her Power to create beautiful perfume bottoms and vases made from the glass she could mold and manipulate.

In fact, most of Alex's friends had become Warriors. John, Quay, Atticus, Jakob, Kathleen, Anthony. Alex hadn't taken the Test. He didn't want to be a Warrior. He didn't want to fight the Atrums. It just didn't appeal to him in the slightest. Surprisingly enough, though, he was a good physical fighter. He had to be. The Power of Music wasn't exactly that intimidating. Or useful. At least, not in the sense of an actual battle.

"Speaking of the secrets of the Underground," Atticus said, brushing his golden-brown hair out of his eyes. "We're supposed to meet down on the training grounds in fifteen minutes. Dodge has something to tell us, remember?"

John sighed. "Right." He turned to Alex. "Bet it's about those damn Atrums moving in on our territory. I swear we should just banish them all to Alder Island. That's where they belong anyway. Evil bastards."

Alex frowned. He and his friend didn't ever see eye-to-eye on things. For instance, Alex didn't see the issue with Atrums living outside of Alder Island. As long as they kept to themselves. Olympus sided with John on this, though. Another reason Alex would be a terrible king. He was too empathetic. Too peaceful.

Quay stood, pulling her black braids up and out of her face. "Guess we better head that way then."

John, Atticus, and the rest of the Warriors left Arbor Lake looking like a deadly force dressed in their usual forest green uniforms. Penelope and Alex were the only non-Warriors of their group of friends. Alex liked John's girlfriend well enough, but she was rather quiet when she didn't have John to lean on. So, she and Alex parted ways right after the others left.

Alex moseyed up and down the paths of the sleepy town, kicking stray acorns and pinecones. Since finishing school, he'd found himself bored more often than not. He could play his etherelle—a wooden musical instrument with three holes down the middle and eight strings. But even that seemed dull at the moment. Olympus blamed Alex's novels on his steadily growing apathy.

Outsider novels, to be precise. Alex had been searching through the giant castle library for something to entertain his restless mind and had come across a small section of purely Outsider literature. And he devoured the books like they were candy. Some of them were complete crap, but most of them were packed full of things he'd never even dreamt of. Airplanes and technology. Towering buildings made of stone and steel and glass. Cars and telephones. The Outside seemed like a place that teemed with life. Like nothing was ever still or quiet.

Unconsciously, Alex traveled the path up to the waterfall boundary—the place where the Underground and the Outside met. He'd been visiting this spot more and more as the days went on. The more boring meetings he had to attend, the more hours he spent pacing back and forth before the waterfall.

If he could only muster the courage to just do it. Just walk through the water. What was the worst thing that could happen? Alex's fists clenched, and he glanced over at his tired little town. So quiet. So peaceful. _Where nothing ever happens_ , he thought.

Turning back to the waterfall, palms beginning to sweat, Alex took a steadying breath and stormed forward, crashing through the sheet of water. Then his world turned upside down. And he fell into oblivion.

# 4

### Invasion

Vyra Vaun sat in her room, tugging at the heads of her dolls until they popped off. Her mother thought she was too violent for a six-year-old. Vyra thought she was just fine. They were a family of Atrums. Why shouldn't she be violent? Besides, the regular elves were just as bad. They'd forced Vyra's family to move from their homes more than once. They'd killed her cousins and aunts and uncles and friends. Just because they were dark and different. Who said the regular elves were so special? Who decided they should rule the Underground while the Atrums lived in the shadows?

She hated them. All of them. Especially the Warriors.

"I'm getting worried, Vex," Vyra heard her mother say from downstairs. "We shouldn't have moved here. It's too close to Arbor Falls. The Warriors—"

"The Warriors are just a bunch of show-ponies," Vyra's father answered brusquely. "They don't even do anything. They're pathetic. Why are you afraid of them?"

"I'm not afraid of—"

"Then why are you worried?"

"I just... Vyra has been acting out lately. I think she's scared. Just last week she was drawing a picture of her friends with blood all over their clothes and Xs for eyes. She's only six years old, Vex. That's too young to be so dark and affected."

Vyra moved from her room to the top of the stairs, listening. If they didn't want her to eavesdrop, they should have kept her name out of their mouths.

"Vyra has a big imagination," Vex said distractedly. He was probably reading the Arbor Falls Newsleaf, Vyra thought.

"Vex."

"I don't want to hear it, Elizabeth," Vyra's father growled. "You sound like an elf."

"I _am_ an elf."

"No. You're an Atrum. Start acting like one."

Vyra silently agreed with her father, nodding to herself and rocking forward and back. Her mother was too weak. Too kind. Nothing like an Atrum should be. It was pathetic.

Her mother went quiet. So quiet, in fact, that sounds from the outside seeped into the tree home. At first, Vyra couldn't make out what was happening. It sounded like distant shouts and screaming, slowly building like rolling thunder.

"Vex!" Vyra's mother cried. "They're here! The Warriors! I told you. I told you they would—"

" _Shut up_ ," he growled, dousing the lights. "Don't make a sound. Go upstairs and stay with Vyra. Make sure she doesn't speak."

Vyra moved from the top of the staircase back into her room, sweeping to the small window beside her bed. Twitching the thick black curtain aside, she peeked out. Warriors stormed the area, riding atop winged horses bigger and more terrifying than any unicorn. The elves wore armor of deep green dragon leather and carried sheaths of arrows on their backs.

Atrum men, women, and children could be seen being pulled out of their homes, arrows pointed at them. If they tried to fight back, they were immediately shot. Vyra's eyes went wide when she spotted her best friend, Ollie, wielding his knife and swiping at the Warriors. A blond Warrior with gray eyes turned, looking down at Ollie with disdain before putting an arrow through his temple.

"Vyra!"

Arms pulled her away from the view of the scene. Her mother placed a hand over her mouth, but Vyra wasn't screaming or making any sound. She knew better than that. She knew the Warriors would come for her if she did.

"We have to hide, sweetheart," her mother whispered. "Go to the secret room. Hurry."

Vyra stood, glancing briefly at the window before skittering to the closet and pulling open the wooden slat behind her clothes. Her mother followed closely behind. And soon, her father was there too, sliding the secret door closed, bathing them in darkness.

Vyra felt like a rodent hiding from a snake, shivering in the lightless room. Bangs and voices could be heard from downstairs. The Warriors had invaded their home.

"Anything yet?" a deep voice said from inside Vyra's room.

"Nothing," another answered. "Someone definitely lives here, though."

"Atrums," the first voice sang from right outside the closet. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Don't make us burn your home to the ground."

Vyra felt her mother tense up, and her father placed a warning hand on her arm.

"They're probably out torturing animals or something," one of the voices said. "Let's move on. There's no one here."

Soon the sound of footsteps disappeared, and the little family let out the breath they'd been holding.

If it were up to her, Vyra would have stormed out of the secret room and sat resolutely upon her bed, crossing her arms in defiance. She would have stared them down, daring them to shoot her like they'd shot Ollie. What had the Atrums done to the Warriors?

Nothing.

They just existed.

That was the problem.

# 5

### Girl in Blue

Alex wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen when he emerged on the other side of the waterfall, but running into the back of another person was definitely not even on the list of top ten possibilities.

"Oi! Watch it, will you?" a voice exclaimed. "Don't you know boundary etiquette?"

Blinking up from the rock on which he was now sprawled, Alex squinted through the sunlight to get a good look at the guy who was yelling at him. He was tall and thin and pale and dark-haired with a head full of curls. When Alex brushed his own hair from his eyes, the young man's mouth gaped, his gaze fixing on Alex's wrist.

_Oh, right_ , Alex thought. _Royal Mark_.

He moved to hide the black outline of the rose set in his skin, but it was too late.

"Damn," the young man said through a breath. "You're Alexander Oaken, aren't you? The prince? Listen, man, I'm really sorry about how I—"

Alex held up a hand to stop him as he climbed to his feet. "Don't apologize. You were right. I shouldn't have run into the back of you. Would you believe this was my first time out in the real world?"

The young man snorted. "Never would've guessed." He held out his hand. "I'm Wesley. Wesley King."

Alex shook Wesley's hand. "Haven't seen you around Arbor Falls. Are you from Rose Valley? Windy Meadows?"

Moving across the rocks on the still lake towards the bank, Wesley shook his head. "Nope. Don't live in the Underground anymore, actually. I live in Blarney with my mum. Some of the time that is. When I'm not passed out on the couch of a friend in Dublin or London or Edinburgh."

Alex felt his face lift in surprise. "You live in the Outside?"

"Yep. Wouldn't have it any other way. I've always been more about the fast-paced life. Cars, lights, booze, excitement. Not the sleepy, predictable air of the Underground. No offense," he added.

"None taken."

"So, you said it was your first time in the Outside?" Wesley asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah."

"Need a tour guide?"

Alex chuckled. "Probably wouldn't be the worst idea."

"Right. First things first. If you walk into town looking like an elf, people will probably stare at you pretty hard."

Reaching up to touch the pointed tip of his ear, Alex realized Wesley was right. He'd forgotten Outsiders looked different from elves. "How do I do that?"

Wesley pulled a firm leaf from a nearby bush and knelt by the water's edge, scooping up the liquid.

"Drink this."

Azalea hung the last of her clothes in the closet that looked like it had been made for a small child rather than a young adult. Their dorm was split into five separate rooms, each with its own bathroom (thank God) and a shared kitchen and living area.

The room across the hall was Zariah's, and she could be heard huffing and puffing and struggling. Azalea shoved her empty suitcase underneath her bed and traveled across the hall to stand in Zariah's doorway.

The poor girl had brought twice the amount of clothes she actually needed and was attempting to stuff them all into her closet. It was a battle she was apparently losing.

Azalea tried to force back a chuckle. "Having trouble?"

"These closets were made for someone who is three feet tall. Not big booty girls like me."

"Or perhaps they were made for twenty pieces of clothing rather than fifty."

Zariah blew out a stream of air. "Nah. I'll pretend that's not it."

Joe appeared in the doorway then. "You said you wanted to go to Blarney?" he asked. Azalea nodded. "You know it's, like, a three-hour cab ride from here?"

"Well, we don't have to go today. I just thought—"

"No, we totally should," Joe said. "Three hours is nothing."

"We should go soon then," Azalea said, glancing at her watch. "It's already eleven."

Zariah pulled open the closet door she'd just forced shut. "Okay, I just have to find something to wear first."

Alex followed Wesley out of the forest and into a black tunnel that supposedly led out of an old castle. After thirty seconds of walking, though, Alex's mind began to create an elaborate scheme in which Wesley worked for the Atrums and was planning to kidnap and torture him. He decided he read too many books.

Then he saw the light at the end of the tunnel and let out a relieved breath.

"Do our Powers still work up here?" he asked.

"Not as well as they do in the Underground. And it takes practice. The gravity is heavier here, so it's more difficult. What's your Power?"

"Music," Alex answered lamely. "I can play any instrument. It sort of has a hypnotizing effect too."

"Any instrument, huh?" Wesley said as they emerged from the tunnel and into the dilapidated castle. "Ever played guitar?"

If Alex hadn't been an avid reader of Outside literature, he wouldn't have known what a guitar was. As it stood, though, he knew exactly what Wesley was talking about. But he'd never played one.

"I've played an etherelle."

"Close enough. Okay, I know what we're doing tonight."

"What?"

Wesley turned to face Alex with hands perched on narrow hips. "Open mic night. And if there are as many chicks there as last time, we'll see just how well your Power works in the Outside."

Azalea, Zariah, Joe, and Shayn all chipped in for a cab to Blarney. Raina, the black and red-haired girl covered in tattoos said she already had plans in Dublin that night.

"How does she already have plans?" Zariah muttered as they climbed into the cab. "We literally just got here."

Azalea shrugged. "Maybe she knows some people."

"Maybe she's a vampire," Shayn chimed in.

Joe laughed from the front seat. "That's totally it."

The cab ride didn't feel like three hours. Living most of her life in West Texas, Azalea had never seen so much green. Where she came from, the plains were mostly made up of dry brown grass and yellow tumbleweeds. Ireland was the opposite of that. Rolling hills of emerald. And sheep. Everywhere.

They stopped for lunch at a little pub the cabbie insisted was one of the best in Ireland. Azalea wondered if it was just because he wanted to order a pint. She hoped he was still good to drive after downing two of them.

Following a meal of tuna melts and soup, they got back on the road and made it to Blarney Castle by four o'clock. The cabbie's eyes turned green as they piled cash into his hand for the ride.

"This is why I worked at that damn Mexican restaurant for a year," Shayn said. "I'll burn through it all by the end of the month."

"They have Mexican food restaurants in Philly?" Azalea asked in surprise.

"Not good ones..."

Ms. King hadn't been lying about the view from the top of Blarney. The inside was interesting enough—crumbling stone stairs and ancient walls. But the top was the real beauty. Azalea moved to the edge and looked over, feeling the breeze run through her hair. A contented smile broke out across her face as she took in the green fairyland before her.

She definitely wasn't in Texas anymore.

Alex followed Wesley out of the castle, taking in his surroundings. A balloon of excitement inflated inside him. It was so different from the Underground. The trees were smaller, but that didn't bother him. The people were brighter. He'd never liked to think of them as Outsiders. They were just people. And their books never referred to them as Outsiders.

The people flooding the castle walked with stars in their eyes, holding up black boxes and looking through them.

"What are those?" Alex muttered to Wesley.

"Cameras. They take pictures of things."

"Like memory paper?"

"Yeah, only much faster."

Alex grinned. He liked faster.

"Did you want to look around here or come back to my place? My mum has been in New York for the week. She should be back by now," Wesley said. "She'll be making a feast. Then again, she always does. Her power is Cooking. Never seemed like much in the Underground. But I've definitely reaped the benefits."

He patted his nonexistent belly and Alex chuckled.

"I am pretty hungry. A feast sounds..."

Alex trailed off as he looked skyward, his eyes landing on a human girl leaning against the edge of the top of the castle. A gentle breeze blew her chestnut hair back and he could see how blue her eyes were from all the way on the ground. Electric blue. They matched the color of the dress she wore. A wistful smile danced on her lips.

"Is she a magical creature?" he whispered.

Wesley followed Alex's gaze. "Not in the sense that we know. She's not an Undergrounder, that is. But that doesn't mean she's not magical."

# 6

### Blarney and Bulmers

Azalea scanned every inch of the view, soaking it in, drinking down the beauty of it all. Then her eyes landed on a pair of guys who looked to be about her age. They were both looking up at her. When she frowned, the dark-headed one turned away, tugging at the shirt of the russet-haired one. But he just continued to stare with rounded eyes and a slightly agape mouth.

She sent him an annoyed glance and stepped away from the edge, turning to see what the others were doing.

"Azalea!" Zariah called. "Come kiss the Blarney Stone!"

Remembering what Ms. King had told her about the locals using the stone as a urinal, she shook her head. "Nah...I'm good."

Azalea was the only one of their group who _didn't_ kiss the stone. She decided not to tell them why she wasn't exactly keen on it. They didn't need to know where their lips had been.

Zariah insisted on exploring the grounds after they climbed back down through the ancient castle. It was a large expanse of foliage and flowers. They took pictures hanging upside down in branches and sticking their faces out the door of a hut dug into the side of a rocky hill, labeled the 'Witches' Kitchen'.

"You think actual witches lived here?" Zariah said in wonder.

"Of course they did," Shayn answered. "I completely believe in witches and magic and all that. Don't you guys?"

" _No_ ," Zariah said, laughing.

"As much as I wish it existed," Joe said, "there is always a scientific explanation for what looks like magic. Take all the witches burned in Salem. It was a sham."

"There's not _always_ a scientific explanation," Shayn said. "Weird shit happens all the time, and we chalk it up to miracles. But, what if it's more than that?"

"What do you think, Zay?" Zariah said.

It took Azalea a moment to realize she was talking to her. "Zay?"

Zariah giggled. "It's a cute nickname, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Azalea shrugged. "My dad calls me 'Lea' sometimes."

"So, do you believe in magic?" Shayn asked her, bringing the subject back around. "Witches and wizards and such?"

Azalea pulled a shoulder up to her ear. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. I don't think I do, though. I think everything is as it seems. Like Joe said. Science can explain most things."

Joe smiled and slung an arm around Azalea's shoulder. "I knew I liked you." Keeping his arm encircled around Azalea, he turned to the others. "I say we go to that pub now and eat. I'm starving. And I could really go for a Guinness."

Shayn rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's go get you dream-killing, magic-hating scientists some sustenance."

"Mum!" Wesley called as they entered the cottage in which he lived. (Sometimes). "Welcome back to the Emerald Isle. Also, I brought company. You won't believe who either."

Ms. King—as Wesley told him she liked to be called—popped her head out of the kitchen. It was evident she and Wesley were related as they both had heads full of dark brown curls. Though she was quite a bit rounder than he was.

"It's the prince," Wesley said before she could guess, pulling at Alex's arm so she could see his Royal Mark.

"Janey Mack," Ms. King exclaimed. "You're not lying."

"Prince of the elves in our cottage," Wesley said with a chuckle as he led Alex into the kitchen, pulling out one of the wooden stools situated around the island. "And I thought nothing exciting would happen today."

"Well, if it helps," Alex said, "I'm a lousy prince. This is most excitement I've had in months."

"Don't say that," Ms. King said as her hands moved quickly over the vegetables she was cutting and tossing in a pot on the stove. "I'm sure you're a brilliant prince."

"You should've heard my speech yesterday in front of the Underground Council. To say it was embarrassing would be an understatement."

"His Power is Music," Wesley cut in. "Right, let me get my guitar! See how you handle it."

Wesley disappeared for a brief moment and emerged with a wooden instrument that looked rather like an etherelle, except it had six strings rather than eight and only one hole in the center instead of three. The guitar was shoved in Alex's arms, and Wesley moved back, grabbing a carrot off his mother's cutting board and sinking his teeth into it as he waited for Alex to play.

Clearing his throat, Alex placed his left hand on the neck of the guitar and his right on the strings. He wasn't sure how strong his Power would be in the Outside, but it was worth giving it a try.

He closed his eyes, letting the sensations of holding the guitar take over. Instruments had an energy about them that spoke to him somehow. He couldn't explain it. The only thing he could compare it to was how an animal can sense changes in the weather and feel things in the atmosphere.

The next thing he knew, his fingers were moving as if of their own accord. A convoluted melody emerged from the instrument. Alex kept his eyes closed, afraid if he opened them, he'd become distracted and mess up. The thing about his Power was that he lost all sense of time passing while it took effect.

Opening his eyes and pulling his hand from the strings, he realized the sun had sunk just beneath the edge of the earth. It was twilight now.

"How long was I playing?" he asked.

Wesley, who had been leaning languidly forward with his chin perched upon his hand, sat up. "'Bout an hour."

"Oh." Alex frowned. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Wesley said. "That was better than taking drugs."

"I didn't hear that!" Ms. King said from the kitchen. "Ready to eat?"

Wesley stood and turned to Alex with a wide grin. "You are _so_ playing that at the open mic tonight."

Azalea wasn't a fan of beer, but she was apparently a fan of cider. Back in Texas, she never drank much. Mostly because she was underage and it made her nervous. Now she could legally drink in Ireland, she didn't feel so bad about it. She and Zariah ordered two pints of Bulmers—Irish hard apple cider—and her head was now swimming in the most pleasant way possible.

She couldn't stop smiling and letting out a giggle every few minutes.

"When does the open mic start?" Zariah asked the man behind the bar, her words slurring slightly.

"Seven. Want another Bulmers?"

"Sure!" Zariah shoved her empty glass forward, and it toppled onto its side. "Oops."

"Uh...maybe you should drink some water first."

"Shhh. Zay. It's fine." Zariah pressed a finger to Azalea's mouth and giggled.

"Get her some water, please," Joe said to the bartender. "Hold off on the third pint."

"You're not my dad," Zariah said indignantly. " _Or_ my boyfriend. You can't tell me what to do."

Joe looked to Azalea for help. "Zariah," Azalea said. "Drink a glass of water and I'll sing when the open mic starts."

"Shut up!" Zariah exclaimed with a laugh. "You can sing, Zay? Why didn't you say you could sing?"

Azalea took the water from the bartender and placed it in front of Zariah. "Drink."

"I'm not thirsty," Zariah whined but took a gulp of water through her straw anyway.

A scream of sound echoed through the room as one of the pub workers turned on the microphone. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. "Welcome locals and tourists to the weekly Saturday Open Mic Night. If you've been here before, you know the drill. If not, I'll tell you anyway." He held up a clipboard with a blank sheet of paper on it. "Write your name here and what you'll be doing and we'll announce yeh. All music and literature readings are accepted. No sermons. Save that for mass in the morning. All right? First up will be the lovely Layla O'Connell on bodhran." The pub worker left the stage and hung the clipboard on a hook on the wall.

"Go write your name or I'm not drinking any more water," Zariah threatened.

Azalea's stomach flipped. She hadn't thought this through. She didn't have any music or anything. She'd just have to sing something acapella. Zariah pushed her off the bar stool. Azalea shot her a mild look of annoyance as she moved to write her name on the paper.

As she reached for the pen hanging from a string, another hand moved forward at the same time, crashing into hers. She looked sideways, immediately recognizing the auburn-haired guy with a staring problem from Blarney Castle.

# 7

### Making Music

Alex jerked his hand back a bit too quickly. Partly because when his skin brushed against the hand of the girl with the electric blue eyes, a shocking jolt ran up the length of his arm. But mostly, he pulled his hand away because she was glaring at him pretty hard.

"Sorry," he muttered. "You go ahead."

She didn't speak but pursed her lips to the side as she took the plastic writing utensil and wrote in swirling script across the top of the paper.

_Azalea Carrol - Singing "Can't Help Falling in Love."_

"You sing?" he blurted.

Her annoyed gaze cut to him again. "No, I don't. But I thought I'd give it a try for the first time in front of a bunch of Irish strangers."

"Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "You aren't fluent in sarcasm, I see."

Rather than handing the writing utensil to him, Azalea let it drop. It slapped slightly against the hanging clipboard as she stepped away and walked back to her friends. Alex swallowed his embarrassment and scribbled his name and the word 'guitar' on the paper, moving to the opposite end of the pub from the beautiful girl in blue.

"She's here," he muttered to Wesley.

Wesley looked around in confusion. "Who?"

"That girl from the top of the castle. The beautiful one with the blue eyes and blue dress."

"The one that looked at you like you were an annoying bug she'd like to squish?"

"Yeah, that one. Not sure what I did to make her loathe me without even speaking. That's talent."

"Well, just wait 'til she hears you play. Bet you her expression changes."

Alex sent him a doubtful look and settled into the booth at which they sat, nursing the Guinness in his hands. He wasn't much of a drinker. Undergrounders didn't exactly partake in such frivolous activities.

The bodhran player, Layla O'Connell, finished up her set with a round of polite applause from the onlookers. It seemed as though most of the acts and patrons were locals. Alex was trying not to look too interested in every little Outsider oddment. Like the napkin dispenser and the lamp on their table lit with actual electricity instead of magic. Even the microphone was powered by the stuff. It was incredible. Alex began rifling through the container filled with white, pink, and blue packets of granular and powdered substances.

"It's just a sugar packet, Alex," Wesley muttered, taking the small paper square filled with sugar out of his hand and replacing it in the container. "Look. It's your girl."

Forgetting about all of the impressive Outsider technology and inventions, Alex's eyes zoned in on Azalea.

Azalea had been in a singing group in high school, so she wasn't completely unused to performing in front of strangers. But there was something about the way the Irish tuned in and paid complete attention to the performer that made her hands shake ever so slightly.

Plus, that red-haired guy was _still_ watching her. Maybe it was just a cultural thing she didn't understand. Either way, it made her nervous.

"Hello," she said into the microphone. "I'm Azalea Carrol, and I'm from Texas."

A few whoops came from the crowd, making her giggle breathlessly. "I'll be singing an acapella version of 'Can't Help Falling in Love'," she said, then added, "Unless anyone knows how to play it?"

"He does!" a voice from the other side of the pub called out.

Azalea squinted, shielding her eyes with her hand to see the auburn-haired boy being pushed out of a booth by his friend who was shoving a beat-up guitar in his hands. She immediately regretted her offer, but didn't want to come off as an American jerk, so she smiled tightly and moved over on the stage so the guy who stared too much could join her.

"Hi," he said to her, bounding up the stairs. "I'm Alex."

"Azalea." They took hands in a brief introduction. Azalea ignored the strange sensation that coursed up her arm as if she'd been shocked by static. "You know this song?"

Alex pulled up a stool and situated the guitar in his lap. "Not yet, but I will."

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Azalea said, "What?"

"Just start singing and I'll play." Alex grinned crookedly up at her. "Trust me."

She wasn't sure why, but she did trust him, this stranger who up until this point had annoyed the hell out of her. Turning back to the microphone, Azalea took a steadying breath and began to sing.

" _W ise men say_..."

Whatever magic was wrapped up in Alex's Power took hold and immediately pulled him into the melody of Azalea's voice. He had to concentrate, closing his eyes, because if he watched her, he'd probably stop playing. As his hands started up on the strings, he heard her voice stutter, and he couldn't help but open his eyes to see her staring at him with a flabbergasted expression.

Both of them hiccuped in their music, and Alex closed his eyes again so he could focus. Azalea took a moment to readjust and picked back up on the next line. The buttery smooth sound of her voice and the complex notes of his guitar soared over the watching audience. Alex didn't even have to look to know every single person in the pub was watching, transfixed.

The corner of his mouth tugged up, and he basked in the feeling of the moment until it was over too soon. He opened his eyes to a room full of agape mouths and wide eyes. A beat of silence and then a wave of applause crashed over them. Alex beamed and chanced a glance at Azalea, who was looking at him in mystified awe.

He tried not to grin too wide as he said, "Didn't I say you could trust me?"

The color of roses filled her cheeks, and her bottom lip sucked in as her teeth bit down. She was adorable. It took everything Alex had not to grab her and kiss her right there.

She looked towards her group of friends and turned back to face Alex. "You, uh...want to join us for a drink?"

# 8

### Electric

Alex and Wesley joined Azalea and her friends at the bar. After receiving several claps on the back and exclamations of awe, Alex settled into the seat beside Azalea. Wesley entertained the rest of her group, who were all apparently from another country called America, telling them stories of Ireland and giving them detailed travel plans of where they had to visit.

But Alex had eyes only for Azalea. She nursed a glass of cider in her hands and kept biting her bottom lip, which was about to drive Alex crazy in the absolute best way.

"So, I guess you don't hate me anymore?" he said, running a finger across the rim of his slowly warming pint of Guinness.

Azalea's head tilted slightly further toward him, dimples forming in her cheeks as she pushed back a smile. "Hate you?"

"Don't lie. You were sending me burning death glares of hate from the top of that castle, and earlier tonight."

She laughed, taking a sip of her cider. "I wouldn't say they were _burning_."

"Do I need to show you the blisters?"

"Okay, so I may have been glaring a little bit. You were just staring a lot."

Alex's gaze moved from his beer back to her. "I'd just never seen anyone as beautiful as you before."

The perimeter of her eyes widened fractionally, her bottom lip parting from the top. Color filled her cheeks. "Oh..."

"That was blunt. Sorry." He took a reluctant drink of his beer to fill the awkward moment. "So, where did you say you were from?" he asked after clearing his throat.

"Texas."

"Where's that?"

Her chin raised and head bobbed back. "You don't know where Texas is?"

_Damn_ , he thought. He was probably supposed to know this sort of thing. An Outsider would definitely know. "Of course I know where it is." He laughed nervously. "I was kidding."

_Good save, idiot._

"Are you from here?" Azalea asked.

"Here?"

"Ireland, I mean."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I'm from Ireland."

"What part?"

He mentally scolded himself for not having read more Irish literature. He didn't know where anything was. He didn't even know where he was right _now_.

"Er...just here. Right here. All my life. In fact, I live in the cottage next door."

"Oh, really? Are you two related?" She tilted her head towards Wesley. "I actually know his mom. Well, kind of. I met her on a plane. She's the one that told me about the open mic."

"Yeah, we are related. He's my...brother."

Azalea glanced over her shoulder at Wesley, who was still regaling the other three with tales of the country. They listened with unblinking interest. She turned back with the shadow of surprise lying over her features. "You look nothing alike."

"Do you look like your siblings?" he countered.

"Don't have any," she said. "Only child."

"Me too." Alex quickly realized his stupid mistake and added, "I mean, except for Wesley, of course."

Azalea laughed.

Just then, the other girl in the group approached the two of them. "We should probably go soon, Zay. We have orientation in the morning. In Dublin."

"Dublin?" Alex asked.

"We're studying at DCU for the month," Azalea explained. "We actually took a cab all the way here. Big time adventurers." She wagged her thumb between her and her friend.

"Oh yeah," the other girl said, placing a hand on her forehead. "With a big time hangover tomorrow."

Wesley was scribbling down some places on a napkin he insisted the others had to visit. Azalea looked from her friends to Alex.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," she said, holding her left arm with her right hand. "Thanks for playing guitar for me. We're a good musical team."

"Yeah, we are." He didn't want her to go. The idea of never seeing her again terrified him more than any horrors waiting in the Underground. "Will we be making music again soon?"

Her eyes sparkled, and the corners of her mouth turned up. "I'd like that." Grabbing a napkin and a plastic writing utensil off the bar, Azalea scribbled out an address and handed it to him. "That's where I'm staying. Maybe I'll see you there sometime?"

Alex took the napkin, looking at the swirling script. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely."

"Okay. Well... Bye, Alex."

Reaching up, she kissed him lightly on the side of his cheek. Sparks of electricity sizzled from the place her lips brushed, sending chills down his face and neck. When the rest of her party made it through the door, she paused, turning to look at him one last time with those electric blue eyes...and then she was gone.

# 9

### Dragon Eggs and Tension

Alex returned to the Underground as the morning light peeked over the horizon. And it wasn't until he was halfway to Arbor Castle that he remembered he was supposed to meet with his father and the leader of the Warriors to listen to a briefing on the Atrum raid.

It was a breakfast meeting. Glancing at his watch, Alex cursed, turning his tired walk into a sprint, cursing with every other leaping step. The guards at the front doors exchanged amused glances as Alex came crashing up to them.

"Out all night, Your Majesty?"

"Just open the door, Jason."

A chuckle rumbled between them as they opened the doors to permit him. He sprinted all the way to the royal dining room, slamming to a stop in the doorway. His father and the Head Warrior, Ryker Reynolds, looked up from their full plates.

"Alexander," Olympus said. "You're late."

"Yeah, I'm—I'm sorry."

"I sent someone up to wake you an hour ago."

Alex moved awkwardly around the table to the empty seat. The air in the Underground was lighter, the gravity less, and he found it difficult to maneuver through.

"Sorry. I was, er...temporarily detained."

Olympus's right brow rose slowly as he ran a hand through his red beard. Fire of frustration crackled in his eyes. Alex pretended nothing was amiss as he piled his plate with scrambled dragon eggs and breakfast breads.

"So," he said. "What did I miss?"

Ryker's back straightened as he spoke. "I was just telling your father about the raid."

"Ah, yes," Alex said in a falsely proper tone. "And how did that go?"

"Rather well," Ryker answered. "The Atrums were cleared out of their tree homes and sent to Alder Island. Their tree houses were burned down." He chuckled then. "Some of the Atrums still hiding in their home were smoked out pretty quickly."

Alex frowned at the image. He'd accompanied his father on an Atrum raid before when he was a few years younger. At the time, he hadn't understood why the Atrums couldn't be left alone, to live in their section of the forest. Olympus had told him that the residents of Arbor Falls wouldn't feel safe with them so close. And they hadn't shown any desire to improve or change their evil ways. So, they drove them away.

But they kept coming back.

"We believe they have changed their targets to the warlocks. They've been spotted lurking around Onyx Forest."

"Indeed," Olympus said. "The warlock army has been dispatched and sent to guard the area."

A shadow of disgust covered Ryker's face at the mention of the warlock army. The Underground War hadn't been over long enough for him to drop the hard feelings, apparently. Alex had never understood why the Underground remained so harshly segregated. Then again, he didn't understand a lot of things about the Underground.

At this point in the conversation, he'd zoned out, exhaustion weighing on him like an iron bar resting across his shoulders. He wasn't hungry. Just tired. So, he listened to his father and Ryker talk as he stabbed at his eggs and fought to stay awake.

Azalea's face floated to the forefront of his mind. He couldn't quite wrap his brain around the fact that it had only been a handful of hours since he'd last seen her. Now he was back in the Underground, it felt like weeks had passed. It had a way of messing with the time.

The scraping of chairs jolted Alex out of his daydream, and he sat up, looking around to see Olympus warmly shaking Ryker's hand. Taking his cue, he mimicked his father, standing and offering his hand out to the Head Warrior.

Ryder nodded his head at Alex, clapping him on the shoulder before breezing out of the room, leaving the father and son duo alone. The air suddenly felt much heavier. Glancing guiltily up at his father, he was met with a discontent gaze.

"Alexander," Olympus said. "I'm not quite sure what has been going on with you as of late, but I suggest you pull yourself together. As the future king, you are expected to represent the kingdom with dignity and poise. Today, you showed neither of those. You could barely keep your eyes open."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well last night. I'll...I'll try harder."

"Indeed you will," Olympus stated curtly. "Remember we have another meeting tonight during dinner with the Head Elf of Maplewood. It's of the utmost importance. _Don't_ forget, and don't be late."

"Yes, sir. Of course. I won't."

Olympus nodded, a stern look in his hazel eyes. The same color as Alex's own. The only similarity he could find at the moment. Too bad elves couldn't inherit the ability to be a _competent_ royal. If they could, that particular gene had evidently skipped right over Alex.

# 10

### Surprise

Vyra Vaun moved like a ghost through the dim passageways of her brand new home. Bluff Bastion. A castle within a cliff. Tucked away like ants in a hill. Just as dark. Just as cramped. Just as hidden.

She hated it.

Her parents waited for her in the dining room where all the other power-hungry Atrums dined. Vyra's father, Vex, was the self-proclaimed leader. She wasn't sure how. He never did anything to protect them from the Warriors. He was all talk and zero action. But he had a deep, scary voice, and the Atrums listened to him for some reason.

Settling into the chair beside her mother, Vyra scowled down at the sad contents on her plate. A small piece of stale bread, a minuscule mound of the meat from some sort of bird, and approximately five pieces of potatoes. Picking up her fork, she stabbed through the meat and pushed it around the plate.

Her mother frowned at this. "Vyra, honey, please don't play with your food."

"When are we fighting back?" Vyra asked.

A few other Atrums stopped eating, looking, wide-eyed towards Vyra's father, who sat at the head of the table.

He ignored her question. "Eat your food, Vyra."

"Why haven't we done anything?" Vyra said. "The Warriors killed Ollie. They killed tons of our people. They burned down our tree homes. Why haven't we killed any of _them_?"

"Our numbers are depleted, sweetie," Vyra's mother said. "We don't have enough people to risk—"

"We don't have enough people because the elves keep _killing_ us," Vyra stated heatedly.

"I know, honey, but—"

"Don't fight with her, Elizabeth," Vex warned. "She's a six-year-old child. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Slamming her fork down on her plate, Vyra pushed back from the table.

"Vyra." Her mother looked towards her with pleading eyes.

Turning on her heel, Vyra stomped out of the dining room. She moved through the dark passageways until she was out of the cliff, descending to flat ground in search of her unicorn. He stood, solitary, in a field full of clover. She approached him without speaking, tugging at his mane until he kneeled to let her on his back.

"Go to Arbor Falls," she murmured.

Few elves knew the magic a unicorn possessed. They were evil beings, just like Atrums. They only responded to those with hearts as dark as theirs. They always responded to Vyra. The unicorn closed its eyes, and Vyra followed suit. Then they were traveling through time and space, blinking out and winking back in next to the boundary of the elf kingdom.

Leaving the unicorn in a lush meadow, content to eat fresh food he never typically ate, Vyra moved stealthily through the forest until she made it to the place she knew they kept the children, a young elf school filled with kids her age.

They were outside playing in a patch of sand covered in thick tree roots that looped in and out of the ground, creating a natural jungle gym. Darting forward, moving in the shadows, Vrya made it to the edge of the playground, scanning the area for a child who looked lonely or friendless.

A small blonde elf with ringlets tied into pigtails with bows sat alone with a doll in her hands. She seemed content to be playing on her own. Vyra was about to change that.

"Hi," she said, staying in the shadows as she approached the little girl. "What's your name?"

Blinking a pair of big, brown eyes, the girl looked up at Vyra. "I'm Tensley."

"Wanna come play with me, Tensley?"

Shrugging, the girl stood up. "Sure."

Well, she was agreeable. Stupid elf.

"I found this really fun place right through the trees there." Vyra pointed at the thick forest line.

"Through the trees?" Tensley leaned around to peer past Vyra.

"Yep."

Tensley rocked forward and back like a metronome. "But we aren't supposed to leave the sand area."

"I know, but it's not far. It's just right there. We'll still be able to see the sand. Come on, it's fun. It's a secret place. Besides. I have a surprise for you in there."

Tensley readjusted her doll in her arms and looked back to the two magister elves who were supposed to be watching the children. Their eyes were on each other as they talked and laughed without a worry or care that something dangerous might be lurking nearby. Foolish, trusting elves.

"Okay," Tensley said, standing up, "but just for a little bit."

"Okay."

A little bit was all the time Vyra needed. She led the way, letting Tensley follow her. Electricity sizzled across Vyra's fingertips as she stepped through the trees.

"Where's the surprise?" Tensley asked.

A sly grin spread over Vyra's face as she held her hand up, purple sparks dripping from her fingers.

"Right here."

# 11

### Lovesick Larks

Azalea had received approximately two hours of sleep before her alarm went off. She pressed the snooze button twice and was finally jolted awake by Zariah, banging on her door, asking if she was ready.

Looked like she was skipping a morning shower.

"One second!" Azalea shouted.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a solid red tee-shirt paired with black Converse, Azalea pulled her hair into a ponytail and brushed her teeth all in the span of two minutes.

Their group met with Peter in the center of campus. He greeted them brightly, ignoring the fact that they were all squinty-eyed and clearly not well-rested in the slightest. Except for Raina, who hadn't traveled with them to Blarney.

In addition to the five of them, there were also two other groups of five who'd arrived later than them and were staying in other dorms. Everyone was introduced before Peter began to speak.

"Welcome to Dublin City University, everyone," he said, spreading his arms wide. "For Orientation today, we will be traveling into the city for a little walking tour. So, without boring you further, let's get going."

They followed after him to the bus stop at the corner. Azalea had always thought of double-deckers being native to London for some reason, but Dublin had them too. Only they weren't candy-apple-red; they were blue and yellow.

Azalea climbed up to the top, sitting in the frontmost seat next to Zariah.

"God, I'm so tired," Zariah said, pressing a flat hand to her forehead. "But it was worth it. Last night was so fun. And that Irish boy, Wesley? He was a-freaking-dorable, wasn't he?"

Azalea shrugged. "I didn't really notice, to be honest."

Zariah giggled. "Oh, right. Of course you didn't. You were too busy talking to the redhead with the insane guitar skills. What was his name again?"

"Alex," Azalea said quietly, looking out the window at the blurred buildings passing. "His name was Alex."

Peter had their group get off at Trinity College where he led them through the grounds, spouting off historical facts about the institution as well as the Book of Kells. Azalea tried really hard to remain focused and listen to him, but every time anyone with red hair passed by—which wasn't quite as frequently as one might think given the assumption that most of the Irish sported red hair—her head would swivel in their direction, expecting to see Alex's smiling face.

But it was never him. Of course. Because he lived in Blarney. What did she expect? For him to stalk their group so he could see her again?

After Trinity College, they walked through St. Stephen's Green, a massive park filled with performers stationed every so often. Again, each time Azalea heard a guitar, her head swirled around, hoping to see him. It was never him. Truly, she was being pathetic.

They then took a bus to Kilmainham Gaol, a former prison built in 1796. This place, at least, caught and captured her attention. The number of old buildings and castles in Ireland fascinated Azalea. Texas had only one or two cathedrals that could even compete.

The inside of the Gaol was creepy, to say the least. Their tour guide said many believed it to be haunted and even claimed they'd seen apparitions in some of the darker rooms. Disembodied voices and forces pushing people had also been reported.

When they reemerged in the dull sunlight, Azalea was thoroughly spooked and famished. Their group walked to the nearest pub called The Patriots Inn. A large section of tables waited for them, covered in cardboard coasters with the names of various beers on them. Everyone ordered a drink. Azalea got Bulmers. It was her new favorite thing. And would likely lead to a five-pound weight gain by the end of the month.

But she didn't care. It was delicious.

Irish food wasn't super different from American food in Azalea's opinion. Fried things with meats and bread, basically. And soups and stews. It needed more salt than American food, of course. Either way, it was exactly what they'd needed after walking miles that day.

Peter turned them loose for the rest of the afternoon, reminding them they had class early Monday morning.

"Oh," he added. "And nearly everything is closed tomorrow. The Irish truly take the 'don't work on Sunday' mantra to heart."

"Meaning we can party all night tonight and sleep all day tomorrow," Joe muttered to their group.

"Yeah, but if I don't take a nap before we go out," Zariah said, "I won't make it all night."

"Same," Azalea agreed.

"Fine," Joe conceded. "Nap first. Party later."

Azalea practically collapsed onto her bed, not even bothering to remove her shoes. After thinking of Alex all day, it was no surprise that he would be waiting for her in her dreams. He looked different, though. His skin was brighter, as if lit from within, and his ears were pointed ever so slightly at the top.

He held a guitar in his hands and grinned when she approached him. He began to play. With the music as their wings, the two of them floated into the air, swirling and twirling through the clouds. Like a pair of lovesick larks.

# 12

### Dragon Pizza

After catching a few hours of sleep following his embarrassing breakfast meeting, Alex joined up with John, Atticus, Penelope, and a handful of other Warriors for lunch at the pizza shop in City Circle.

He knew, if he weren't the king-in-training, most of their group would be less likely to hang out with him. Warriors had a tendency of exclusively spending time with other Warriors. Mostly because they were the only ones who truly understood what each of them had to endure. Death, battles, loss, and crippling fear. Alex couldn't imagine what they went through. He'd never wanted to. Which was why his decision not to take the Warrior Test had been an easy one.

If only he'd had the same flexibility in choosing whether or not he would train to be the next royal leader. He was his father's only child. He had no choice in the matter. None at all.

Their group of Warriors and groupies filled the center of the pizza shop, ordering enough food for each elf to have at least half a large pizza to themself. With how much they trained, the Warriors always ate more than their fair share of food. Alex sat at the table with John, Penelope, and Atticus.

His short nap hadn't been quite long enough to re-energize him. Maybe a slice of pizza or two would help. Picking up a slice piled with dragon meat, Alex tilted his head back and devoured it in three bites.

"Did you hear about the little girl they found this morning?" Penelope asked Alex in a subdued tone.

He sat up at this, his hand pausing in midair as he reached for another slice. "What? No... What happened?"

Penelope looked to John to explain. He ran a hand through his straw-colored hair, shaking his head sadly. "A little girl—Edwin Timm's daughter—was found just past the forest line near the little elf school."

"She was found...alive?"

John and the others shook their heads. "She was dead."

Mouth falling open, Alex said, "What happened to her?"

"No one is sure," Atticus answered first. "She had streaks of burns all over her body like she'd been electrocuted. Her eyes were open and staring. It must have happened it a matter of minutes because the magisters who were monitoring the area said they'd just seen her sitting by herself, playing with her doll. The next minute, she was gone. They spread out to look for her, but when they found her, it was too late."

John said, "The weird thing was, they couldn't find her doll anywhere. Looks like the killer likes to collect mementos of his victims."

Alex moved his head slowly back and forth. "That's terrible. And no one has any idea who may have been responsible?"

"What do you think it was?" John said darkly. "A filthy Atrum, of course. Likely a retaliation from our raid yesterday."

"Really?" Alex said. "I thought they had ceased attacks on elves, focusing on the warlocks instead. That's what they said in the meeting this morning."

"You're not supposed to tell us that, remember?" Atticus murmured.

Alex slapped a palm to his forehead. "God, I suck. Forget I said that."

"That may be what the Atrums want us to think so we will leave them alone," John said. What Alex had let slip didn't seem like news to him. "In the meantime, the Warriors are all being assigned more hours in the Watch-Tree. Security is heightening for the time being. Until we know who was responsible for the young girl's death."

"Speaking of the Watch-Tree," Atticus said through a mouthful of pizza, checking his watch, "Our duty starts in ten minutes."

John nodded, inhaling another two slices in thirty seconds time before he dragged a napkin across his mouth, kissed Penelope on the forehead, and swept from the pizza place.

Alex ate the rest of his food in a daze, watching as the Warriors trickled out of the shop to train or sleep or shoot arrows. Alex's mind was occupied with memories of Azalea, flashing electric blue eyes, and silky brown hair the color of drinking chocolate.

"Are you okay, Al?" Penelope asked. "You've seemed distracted lately."

"Hmm?" Alex turned to face her with a confused look on his face. "Sorry, what?"

"Never mind," Penelope said with a chuckle. "See you later, okay?"

"Oh. Yeah. See you."

Alex was the last person left in the pizza shop. He wandered out into City Circle, standing alone beside the massive marble fountain in the center. His eyes drug up to the cliff, upon which sat the waterfall boundary. The gateway to the Outside.

He needed to see if what he was feeling was real, or just a passing obsession. He needed to clear his head.

And he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

# 13

### Family Business

"Azalea!" Zariah called through the door. "Get up and get ready, dude! We're going downtown, and the next bus leaves in an hour."

Stretching her arms out, Azalea emitted a high-pitched yawn as she forced herself to sit up in her twin-sized bed. She'd been sleeping for a few hours, but it felt like days. Or maybe minutes? She couldn't decide which. Either way, she didn't have time to dwell on this because she definitely needed to shower.

Though she wanted to spend much more time standing beneath the hot water, she showered quickly so she'd have enough time to get ready, half-blow-drying her hair that lay in soft waves. Of all the things she could have inherited from her mother, she was glad this particular asset was it. There was nothing worse than wavy hair that was also frizzy and couldn't be tamed. A pain twisted through her stomach. She hadn't thought of her mother in a while. It made her sick to think of her, so she tried to avoid it. Azalea shook all thoughts of her mother away as she rifled through her cramped closet for something to wear. That woman had stolen enough away from her. She didn't need to take her fun in Ireland too.

_So. Clothes. Think about clothes_ , Azalea scolded herself.

Black was always good. She chose a black sleeveless turtleneck paired with white jeans stuffed into black boots. The only splash of color was the blue of her eyes.

A knock reverberated on the door. "Ready, Zay?" Zariah called. "We're heading out."

Stringing her small purse across her body, Azalea emerged from her room. "Ready."

"Damn, girl. You look hooooott."

Azalea laughed, rolling her eyes at Zariah.

Shayn pressed a hand to his sternum. "What? I don't get a compliment?"

"You look hot too, Shayn," Joe said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Knew I'd convert one of you boys," Shayn said with a wink.

The four of them laughed as they left their dorm. Azalea's breath hitched in her chest as her eyes landed on a pair of rather familiar faces. She felt Zariah nudge her in the ribs, which wasn't necessary.

"Wesley! Alex!" Zariah squealed. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Thought you could use a local tour guide," Wesley said with a confident grin.

Wesley's gaze slid over the group. But Alex's eyes were fixed on Azalea, his mouth turning up in a lopsided smile. His hazel eyes looked greener in the setting sunlight.

"Shall we?" Wesley said.

The rest of the group enthusiastically agreed, walking side by side with the curly-haired Irish boy. Azalea, however, hung back enough for Alex to fall into step beside her.

"Where's your guitar?" she asked him, trying with difficulty to master the muscles in her face. She couldn't let her nerves show.

"In my back pocket. I'll pull it out later. We can serenade the patrons of the pub. Maybe wait 'til most of them are drunk, though."

Azalea laughed, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling too widely.

Alex had been sure he'd built Azalea's beauty up in his mind. No one could be that beautiful. It was impossible. Yet, when she stepped out of the door, he realized she was even more beautiful than he'd remembered.

And, as the two of them talked on the bus into town (a mind-blowing experience for someone who'd only ever traveled by pegasus), he realized she wasn't just beautiful. She was also funny and witty and brave. He learned more about her family. Her father, mostly. When he asked about her mother, she tensed up and changed the topic. She told him what it was like growing up in a small town in Texas (wherever that was).

She was incredible.

This was a good thing. And, at the same time, it wasn't. He'd returned to the Outside to convince himself that he was just being ridiculous. To show himself Azalea wasn't everything his brain had built her up to be. He'd planned on this being the last time he would see her. To get it out of his system so he could focus on becoming the kind of king his father expected him to be. Never mind the fact that he didn't want to be king. If he had a choice. But he didn't.

They reached the center of the city and Alex had to keep from giving himself away. The bus alone blew his mind, but the lights and signs sizzling with electricity filled his veins with a humming excitement. This was what he'd been missing. This was the opposite of Arbor Falls. People filling the streets and sidewalks, music pouring out of each establishment, laughter rising up as people held up glasses of ale and spirits. This was the opposite of boring.

Earlier, Alex had wished for a longer nap. Now, he realized that wasn't what he needed. He needed this. The excitement of a buzzing city at the height of the night. And, even if all of that went away, the electric blue of Azalea's eyes was enough to jolt him awake for days.

The group made their way through several bars and pubs, most of which were packed, settling finally at a place called the Stag's Head in Temple Bar where they'd arrived just in time to nab a corner of brown leather seats situated around three small tables. Azalea and Alex ended up squished together in the corner, sitting so close their legs were pressed against each other.

This pub wasn't quite as loud as the others, but Alex and Azalea still had to put their heads close to hear any of the words the other was saying.

"So, we've talked a lot about me," Azalea said. "But I know almost nothing about you."

Alex hated that his stomach clenched with worry. There was only so much he could reveal to an Outsider without sounding like a complete lunatic. But, as king, he was expected to think on his feet. So, maybe this was just practice.

"What do you want to know?" he said.

"What do you do? Are you going to school? Do you work? Do you like it?"

"That's more than one thing."

"I know," Azalea said with a lilting laugh. "Answer all of them."

He let out a whoosh of a breath and said, "Well. I am finished with school, and I'm currently training to take my father's place in the, uh, family business. I...do not like it."

"What's the family business?"

"Er...politics? It's complicated. And I'm not supposed to say much about it. It's classified."

This was the truth.

Thankfully, Azalea accepted this answer. "And you don't like it?"

"No, not really."

"Why not?"

Alex's gaze moved from Azalea's to his lap. He regularly joked about how bad of a king he was with his friends, but, in reality, he was sort of ashamed about his royal shortcomings. "I'm no good at it. Believe it or not, I'm not the best with public speaking. And I am terrible at keeping secrets. Which is basically half of my job."

"What would you want to do? If you could choose."

His eyes moved back up to Azalea, locking on. No one had ever asked him this before.

"I'd want to play music," he answered. "I'd want to write it and play it and share it with everyone."

"Have you told your father? Maybe he would be understanding."

Alex shook his head. "He wouldn't be. I'm the only one who can take over the business."

"What about Wesley?"

"Wesley?"

"Yeah... He's your brother, isn't he?"

Alex mentally cursed himself. Why did he have to make up that lie?

"Oh. Right. Uh, actually he's just my half-brother. We have different fathers."

"Oh."

A live Irish band began to play then, and according to Wesley, the locals got really pissed if tourists talked over the music. As a musician, Alex understood. And was grateful. He was afraid to say any more to Azalea about his father or their supposed 'business'.

He'd already dug himself a rather sizeable hole as it was.

# 14

### Chocolate Bridge

Azalea had to refrain from giggling as she watched Alex struggle through his speech when he answered her questions for him. It was adorable, to be sure. And it made laughs bubble up in her throat, which she held back. So the laughs moved up to her eyes, sparkling like champagne.

The Irish band made the city feel even more removed from everything she was used to back home. It made it feel like magic. Like a fairytale. Or maybe it was the way Alex looked at her. Like she was a sunset.

The music was lovely, yes, but Alex was lovelier. And she wanted to hear more of him. Feel more of him. So she grabbed ahold of his hand, whispered a quick explanation in Zariah's ear, and tugged him out of his seat.

"Where are we going?" he asked with a laugh.

"For a walk," she answered coyly.

When they made it outside of the building, Alex looked around and then down at her. "Where are we walking?"

It was strange, she thought, that his accent didn't sound quite as "Irish" as some of the other locals. It was more of a mixture of Irish and British and Scottish and something else.

Azalea kept a tight hold of his hand, still clasped in hers, and walked forward. "This way." He followed easily, falling into step beside her. "I'm feeling like some hot chocolate."

"Ah," he said, his lips curling up. "And where is this hot chocolate?"

"This way," she repeated.

He looked uncertainly at her but followed her lead anyway. Though Alex was now walking beside her, rather than being pulled, Azalea kept ahold of his hand. She'd been waiting for him to let go first, and when he never did, she just kept her fingers entwined with his.

Never before in her life had she been so acutely aware of how many nerve endings a hand contained. And this wasn't the first time she'd held a boy's hand. She was eighteen, after all. And her small Texas town had rather little to do there. Hand holding was always the very first step...before everything else.

But _this_. This was like trying to hold static electricity in her palm. Sparks and tingling sensations sizzled everywhere his skin touched hers. It almost left her breathless.

"I thought you weren't from here," Alex said eventually.

"I'm not."

"Then how do you know where this hot cocoa place is?"

"I'm magical."

Alex looked at her a little strangely a moment before he said, "Are you...?" As if he actually almost believed her.

She laughed. "No, dummy. We went on a tour of the city earlier today and passed by it. Peter—our teacher—told us it was the best hot chocolate in Ireland. But we didn't have time to stop."

"So, you're not magical then?" he said.

Azalea's eyes moved to his, narrowing slyly. "I could be."

The corners of Alex's mouth twitched up slightly as he said, "So could I."

"Maybe that's why you can play guitar so well."

He actually threw his head back in a laugh at this. "That's probably it."

It was strange talking about magic with Azalea, even though he knew they weren't actually talking about magic. He wondered how she'd feel if she knew how close she was to being right. It was all well and good to joke about it, but he had a feeling she wouldn't think it was so funny if she knew the truth.

"Here it is," Azalea chimed, jumping forward and making a grand gesture towards a hole-in-the-wall building with a window covered with green letters that said simply: _Chocolate_.

Alex snorted. "Clever name."

"I like it," Azalea said. "It's simple. And not pretentious. It tells you exactly what to expect."

"You mean this isn't a shoe store?" Alex said, feigning shock.

Rolling her eyes, Azalea pulled him inside. The shop was a quaint establishment that looked like a house with a counter plopped in the center. And it was absolutely packed full of people.

Alex and Azalea battled their way to the end of the line of patrons, watching and waiting for a table to open up. By the time they ordered and received their steaming cups of hot chocolate, the place had acquired even more patrons.

"Let's just take it to go," Azalea suggested. "Explore the city some more. You can show me around."

Alex laughed nervously, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and scalding the tip of his tongue. "I don't actually come here all that much," he said. "You probably know the city better than I do now."

"Well, let's just walk then. I feel like I barely know you."

_You have no clue_ , he thought.

"There's not a lot to know."

"Sure there is," Azalea said, stringing her arm through his, holding her cup of thick, melted chocolate in the other. "Tell me about your family. Your father, your mother, your brother. Tell me about growing up in Blarney. About your job, your dreams, your fears."

"You want to know all that about me?" he said.

Azalea bit her lip, restraining a smile as she looked forward down the deserted sidewalk. "Of course I do."

" _I_ don't even know all that about me." He said it in a joking way, but there was quite a bit of truth to it.

Growing up, part of him knew he wasn't the perfect little prince his father was trying to raise. He was aware he would be an eventual disappointment, not only to his dad but to the entire kingdom. He'd hated wearing his crown, he hated formal functions, he hated meetings and dressing up and walking tall with his shoulders back. He hated all of that.

He liked reading Outsider books and playing music. He liked hanging out with his friends and going on adventures. He didn't like fighting, and he didn't like violence. But he actually was an excellent physical fighter and had taught kids like Atticus how to defend themselves from bullies. Because, when you had a Power like Music—or detecting others' Powers like Atticus—you kind of had to get good at throwing a punch. He liked helping people. In short, he was a strange little boy who'd grown into a strange young man.

"I don't even know where to begin," he admitted.

"Well, if you were meeting someone for the first time and they said, 'tell me about yourself,' what would you say?"

Alex shook his head slowly back and forth in thought. "I...like to play music," he said lamely. "And I like to read books. I don't like boring meetings or dressing up. I love my friends and my family, but I don't feel tied to them like most people seem to. Honestly? Let's be honest here. You want to know about me? Well, I feel like I am this shell of a person, and I'm not sure how I got here. I'm like an animal that's been separated from its herd but doesn't want to come back. It's scary and dangerous away from the herd, and I know I'll probably die if I leave. But I want to. More than anything."

Azalea stopped walking a moment, blinking up at him. They'd reached a long stretch of river. Alex had no idea where they were in relation to anything else.

"Then you should leave," she said quietly, walking forward now until they made it to a little cast iron bridge made only for walking across. It was deserted, and Azalea led him to the top, stopping and turning so they were facing out towards the water. "You should leave whatever is trapping you. Whatever is making you feel like a shell. Because, if you're just staying to please your father, or whoever, then it's just not worth it. Someday they will be gone, and you'll still be here...trying to make someone else happy for the rest of your life. You don't want to live with that kind of regret. If leaving is what you want more than anything in the world, then you should do it."

"Well," he began, looking down at Azalea's profile. The lights of the city lit her eyes like electric blue fairies. "It was what I wanted more than anything... Now, recently, I think that's changed to something else."

She turned her big blue eyes up to him. They were filled with questions at first, and then at some point, she must have realized what he meant because they grew ever wider. Her red-tinged mouth fell open as she sucked in a slow breath.

"You don't even know me, Alex," she said.

"I know I want to," he murmured. "I know I need to. More than I've ever needed anything before. I know, if I do escape from the cage of my life... I want to escape to you."

The cup of hot chocolate fell from her hand as she reached up and pulled his face down to hers. The second cup crashed to the ground, spilling melted chocolate over the edge of the bridge as Alex wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, breathing her in, feeling like he could finally get enough air for the first time in his life.

If Azalea had thought holding hands with Alex was a sensory experience, she could hardly comprehend the sensation of kissing Alex. His lips were like water, quenching a thirst she'd never realized she had. He kissed her like he was an adventurer exploring an unknown realm. Like he was a starving, and she was his sustenance.

He'd said he _needed_ to know her. Not wanted. He hadn't said, "I'd like to get to know you," or, "It would be cool to see you again." He'd said he needed to know her. Like it was no longer a want, but a necessity. She wasn't sure how to handle that.

Because she felt the same way.

But she also lived in Texas. And he lived here. In Ireland. But he'd also said he wanted to get out. Surely his idea of "getting out" wasn't leaving the lush beauty of this country in exchange for brown grass, tumbleweeds, and sand-filled wind.

What was she doing? They'd only known each other two days, and here she was picturing what it would be like for him to come home with her. She wasn't normally so stupid when it came to boys. Sure, they'd chased her back at home. They'd made promises and begged for her to stay with them and cried about how much they loved her and needed her. But, somehow, when Alex said he needed her, it felt different. Like he really meant it.

Alex meant what he'd said. He needed to know Azalea. Like he needed to breathe air. It sounded dramatic, he knew. But he didn't care. It felt more real than anything else had up to this point in his life. Ballrooms and royal meetings and ruffled collars and killing elves that probably didn't deserve to be killed. All of that felt like the fantasy.

Alex didn't know why people, Outsiders especially, were so wrapped up in magic and fantasies. As if it somehow made everything better. It didn't. In his experience, it just complicated things more.

He didn't need Underground magic.

Azalea was magic.

# 15

### Bearer of Bad News

Vyra ripped the head off another one of her dolls and placed it next to a row of five others. Cocking her head to the side, she smiled widely. Six. Six kids. Six dead elf kids.

That's what they deserved. Their parents. That's what they got. For being murderers and not believing they were murderers. Just because they thought Atrums were ugly and evil. Killing their kids who hadn't had a chance to screw up yet was not a noble thing. Not like they thought it was.

That's what they got.

"Vyra?" Her mother peeked inside.

Vyra rolled her eyes and leaned back on her heels. "What."

"I have some news for you. Do you have a minute?"

Her mother spoke to her like _she_ was the child and Vyra was the adult. She hated how weak her mother was. It was pathetic. She didn't even like killing Warriors. She'd seen her cry about it one time when she thought no one was looking.

Pathetic.

"What news?" Vyra asked, standing. "Did the Atrum army change their minds? Are they going to open attack on the Warriors? Or will they just continue to pointlessly attack the warlocks of Onyx Forest to make it look like they're doing something?"

"No, sweetheart. It's not that kind of news," her mother said in that annoyingly sweet voice she wore like another skin. "It's family news."

"Whose family."

"Our family."

"What is it. Did Vex die?"

"No, honey, Daddy didn't die." Her mother didn't comment on her daughter's use of his name. She'd grown out of using terms of endearments long ago.

"Well?" Vyra said impatiently. "Go on."

Her mother sat in the rocking chair she used to rock Vyra in before she grew old enough to know she didn't like being held by her mother. Folding shaking hands into her lap, her mother cleared her throat. "I'm pregnant," she stated. "You're going to be a big sister."

Vyra looked at her mother's stomach, covered by a thick layer of black fabric. She didn't look pregnant.

Vyra's eyes narrowed up to her mother. "You know they're going to kill it."

Her mother's face turned white. " _What_?" she breathed.

"They're going to kill your baby," she said. "Eventually."

"Wh-who will?"

Her mother looked petrified.

"The _Warriors_ ," Vyra stated. "They're going to kill it."

Pathetic, weak tears built clear walls in her mother's eyes. "Why would you say that?"

"Why are you so stupid? You're all so stupid," Vyra said calmly, shaking her head. "Don't you see? The Warriors hate us. We can leave their land and live on this stupid island and try to stay out of their way, killing their other enemies. But it won't ever matter. Because they hate us. And they'll find a way to kill us. All of us. Even your precious new baby."

Vyra's mother looked at her daughter for a long while, letting the wall of tears crumble and fall down her cheeks. Then she stood and walked out of the room. She didn't look back. She didn't see her daughter's mouth curl up into a satisfied smile.

# 16

### Wake Up

Two weeks.

In the future, Alex would say that was the amount of time it took to know he was completely, madly, insanely, hopelessly in love with Azalea Carrol, the beautiful Outsider from Texas. Two weeks.

But, in reality, he'd already started to fall the night he met her. Since that night, they'd seen each other every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes for only minutes at a time. But Alex made a point to leave the Underground in search of her every single night. He missed a few important meetings at the castle—okay a lot of important meetings—but he didn't care.

On the fourteenth day of knowing her, he realized he would always choose her. No matter what the alternative.

"What are we doing?" Azalea asked him that night. They lay on the grass together in Stephen's Green near Trinity College, staring up at the stars...when they weren't staring into each other's eyes. Alex preferred the latter.

"We're falling. We're breathing."

Azalea smiled at the sky, not looking at him. Their fingertips met, forming a small pyramid between them.

"Falling?" she whispered. "Already?"

"I am," he murmured, his gaze moving from her mouth to their hands. "Aren't you?"

Her expression changed, her smile fading slightly as her eyebrows turned upwards in the center. She looked frightened. "I am."

Alex moved his hand from hers and placed it against her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Isn't this crazy?" she whispered. "I mean, we've only known each other for two weeks. You can't fall in love in two weeks."

"Apparently, you can. Because I have."

Her eyes unlocked from the sky, their electric blue sizzling into his. "You have?"

Rolling onto his side, propping his head up, he looked down at her. "You didn't really give me a choice, you know."

"There's always a choice, Alex," she said in a small voice, but the shadows of dimples in her cheeks told him she was smiling again.

"Guess I've made my choice then. I've fallen, deeper and harder and faster than I ever expected I could."

She smiled again and he couldn't stop himself. He had to kiss her. If was difficult not to kiss her in any situation, but the way she looked now with the light of the moon falling over her face and the stars in her eyes made it impossible. Every time their lips met, he felt a sigh of relief in his core, like he was an unfilled lock and she was the key. She was the only thing that could open him up.

Kissing Alex was like getting drunk, slowly at first, and then she stood up, and it hit her all at once. He made her unsteady and kept her anchored to the ground all at the same time. How was it possible this boy she'd met only two weeks ago could make her _feel_ so much?

And then, the dark thoughts tried to battle to the front of her mind. You're leaving in two more weeks. _You're leaving, and he's not going to follow you. You're just asking to have your heart broken. You're asking to lose everything. Because that's what he is now. He's everything._

Alex hated having to leave her at the end of the night. He loved kissing her but hated kissing her goodbye.

"See you tomorrow," he promised.

She used to tell him he didn't have to come visit her, that she was sure it cost him a lot to get a cab back and forth from Blarney to Dublin. But now, she didn't. She just smiled and nodded.

"See you."

The journey back to Blarney was always the longest. Because he was going in the wrong direction. He was the wrong end of the magnet, being continually repelled by the Underground. That didn't bode well for the prince of the elves.

But make it back he did, crossing the waterfall boundary and longing for the moment he could leave again. But first...sleep. His back hunched over from exhaustion as he stepped off the moss and onto the path towards town.

"Welcome back to the Underground, Prince Alexander," a voice said from the shadows of the trees.

Alex straightened, turning around to see John stepping out of the foliage.

John surveyed his best friend that he now felt he no longer knew. He'd first noticed something strange about him a few weeks ago, and the strangeness steadily grew until John was full-blown suspicious. At first, he thought he was up to something dangerous like he used to be when they were younger. Alex had always been a curious kid. Then John followed him one night until he reached the waterfall boundary and went through it.

That was about a week ago. Alex returned to the boundary every night and was gone for hours at a time. John knew Alex had a strange fascination with the Outside—he read nothing but Outsider literature—but he didn't know it captivated him enough to visit so frequently. Elves weren't meant to travel into the Outside for more than a few days a year. And that was for the strict purpose of scientific observation or research. It was important they kept up with the state of the Outside world. But that was the extent of it.

"Why don't you come over to my place for a bit," John said. "I think we need to talk."

Alex looked longingly at the path towards the castle before nodding. "Fine."

"I'll have Penelope make you an awakening draught."

Alex raised his eyebrows. "Penelope? Are you living together now?"

"There's a lot you can miss in two weeks' time, Al."

The two of them traveled to the small tree home in the compact community designated for the Warriors no longer living with their parents. They were the closest to the training field. John's ultimate goal was to become Head Warrior so he could live in Arbor Castle someday. But that was a long way away.

"You don't have to wake Penelope," Alex said. "I can stay up for another hour or so."

"She's already awake," John said. "It's nearly sunrise, you know."

John's home was quaint, but it was enough room for him and Penelope. Maybe even a child or two. Though, that would be rather cramped.

"Good morning, Alex," Penelope said as they entered their small kitchen. "I've already whipped up an awakening draught if you want some."

Awakening draughts were really just high-powered coffee, but the name sounded fancier. When she wasn't creating elaborate glass sculptures or jewelry, Penelope liked to make draughts in the kitchen. Sometimes they worked out. Sometimes their home smelled like dragon manure for days.

"So?" John said after Alex had taken a few sips of his draught. His eyes already seemed more open.

"So what?"

"What have you been going to the Outside for?"

"Oh, you know," Alex said into his glass mug. "Sightseeing and such."

John fixed his friend with a deadpan look. Alex's smile slowly faded into a resigned frown.

"Her name is Azalea," he said. "And I think I'm in love with her."

Penelope dropped her mug over the counter. It shattered, and she hurriedly used her Power to mold it back together, mopping up the spilled liquid with a thunderstruck expression. John tried to rearrange his features. His mouth was hanging open.

"You're in love with...an Outsider?"

Alex sat up straighter, fixing him with a defensive look. "I am."

John shook his head back and forth slowly. "Alex. You're the prince. You're going to be king."

Alex made a face that indicated he didn't want to agree with this statement.

"You _are_ going to be king, aren't you?" John asked, fearing the answer.

"I..." Alex looked from John to Penelope and then to his lap. "I don't know."

"You're the only heir. If you don't become king, someone else will have to take over." John could feel his blood beginning to boil. "Do you really want to let some other elf family take over the crown? Who knows what they would be like. Who knows what they could do. How could you just give up your duty to the Underground for some girl? How could—"

"She's not just some girl," Alex shouted. "And I never asked to be king. I never asked for any of this."

He stood then, slamming his half-empty mug on the table. "Thanks for the drink, Pen," he muttered.

And then he stormed out. The former prince of the elves.

# 17

### Teatime Revelations

"I can't believe we're only here for another week," Zariah said glumly, plopping a glob of whipped cream in her mouth. Azalea had finally convinced her group to travel to Chocolate after class. It wasn't as crowded during the early afternoon hours.

And she needed to keep herself distracted while she waited to see Alex again.

"I know," Shayn whined. "It feels like we just got here."

Azalea felt her stomach sinking like she'd swallowed stones instead of melted chocolate. As the days ticked by, she tried not to think about the inevitable. It physically hurt her to think about. So, she tried not to.

"What are you going to do about Alex?" Zariah asked, picking her thoughts straight from her brain. "You two are totally madly in love now, aren't you?"

Azalea felt her cheeks warm as she shrugged and took a sip of hot chocolate. "I don't know."

"I understand how you feel. I'm going to miss Wesley too." Zariah patted her on the back. "Oh, and he invited me to have dinner with him and his mom tonight. His sisters are going to be in town, and he said he wanted me to meet them. I think he probably just wants to take me to his room to have sex...which I'm okay with."

Azalea's brows rose in surprise, ignoring the sex remark. "Sisters?"

"Yeah. Twins. So weird."

"Twins, you said?" Joe asked with an eager look on his face.

Zariah rolled her eyes. "Want me to ask if you guys can come too?"

Joe nodded in enthusiasm and Shayn shook his head. "Only if he also has a hot brother."

"No brothers," Zariah said with a sympathetic tilt of the head. "Only sisters."

"Other than Alex," Azalea inserted.

Zariah cocked a brow at her. "What?"

"Alex is his brother..."

Zariah laughed. "No, he's not."

Azalea felt a flush trickle down her neck. "But..."

"Is that was Alex told you?" Zariah asked. "Wesley got drunk and told me his entire life story the other night. But he never said anything about Alex or any brother for that matter. Are you sure he told you they were brothers?"

Yes. She was sure.

"Maybe I misheard him."

She hadn't.

"Well...do you want to come to dinner too? Maybe Alex will be there. I could offer to bring something since I'm practically inviting half our class. I wouldn't, except Wesley told me his mom is obsessed with having people over for dinner. She loves to cook big meals."

"Yeah." Doubt shrouded Azalea like a blanket. What else had Alex lied about? "Sure. I'll come."

Before Alex could leave for the Outside to see Azalea, he had to meet with his dad and the Head Elf of Maplewood. He'd missed too many meetings as it was. His father was likely to explode from anger soon. He'd already given Alex a "talking to" every other day. He said he was turning into a flaky leader, and flaky leaders were the worst apparently.

They were supposed to be having tea with this man, talking about...Alex wasn't sure what. When he entered the room, though, he found the Head Elf, Tanner Reynolds, and a young girl about his age sitting at the table, which was covered in pastries and scones and multiple pots of tea. The girl was nice enough looking with ashy blonde hair and brown eyes. The opposite of Azalea, he realized. Just this fact alone made the girl seem less attractive.

But he still smiled and sat down to wait for his father to join them.

_Ha. Who's the flaky one now, Dad_?

"So sorry I'm late," Olympus said, sweeping into the room, holding a thin, black box of some sort. "I wanted to bring Grace this. Just to try it on."

He handed over the flat jewelry-looking case to the blonde girl—Grace. She smiled shyly up at Olympus and opened the gift. Inside rested a small crown of golden roses. "It was Alexander's mother's."

Alex's brows sunk in confusion. "Why...?" He didn't know what else to say.

"Well, Alexander," Olympus said as he sat at the head of the table and poured himself a cup of tea. "You and Grace have been promised to one another. You shall be bound by the end of the year."

His heart sank, along with the rest of his organs. " _Bound_?"

"I have met with many of the daughters of the surrounding towns' leaders. Grace is the best match for you."

He said this with an underlying tone of "you're welcome." Alex couldn't seem to make his eyes less wide or his mouth more closed. He knew the prince was expected to find a partner before he became king...but he didn't know it was supposed to happen so soon. He was only eighteen. Barely out of school. Barely an adult.

Of course, his mind soared straight to Azalea. Perfect, beautiful, everything he ever needed or wanted. Suddenly, the girl sitting across from him, holding his mother's crown, looked like a troll.

Alex stood up, backing towards the door. "No," he said in a mystified voice. "I'm sorry. No. I can't. I can't do this. I won't."

Tanner and Grace Reynolds watched him retreat with horrified expressions. The girl looked as though this was her first ever rejection. Alex didn't care. He had to leave. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't do this.

Storming from the room, Alex began to make his way through the throne room so he could leave the castle, but heavy footsteps sounded from behind him. His father.

"ALEXANDER," Olympus bellowed. "STOP. NOW."

It wasn't the first time his father had yelled at him. But his voice had never quite reached that decibel, and, looking back, Alex saw the vein in Olympus's forehead bulging. He didn't want to be responsible for his father's stroke. So he stopped. Reluctantly.

"I am no stranger to suffering under the sweltering heat of your embarrassment," he began hotly. "But I'd say that tops them all. The meeting in there was not an option. Being bound to Grace is not an option. Being king is not an option. Tradition is the most important thing elves have, Alexander. It. Is not. An option."

Alex felt years of stifled resentment come bubbling up. He was sure his face was the color of his hair now. He didn't care.

"Yeah? Well, how is this for an option, Dad? I'm leaving."

This brought Olympus up short. "There is nowhere in the Underground that will take a prince who's willingly left his throne."

"I don't want to go anywhere in the Underground. I'm leaving the Underground."

"Don't tell me you're on another Outside kick, Alexander. Honestly. This is becoming ridiculous."

"It's not a kick. It's where I belong."

Olympus's eyes rolled upwards. "For the love of—"

"Let's face it, Dad. I would be a terrible king. I hate it. I hate the meetings, I hate wearing the fancy clothes and the stupid crowns and making polite conversation with people I don't know. I don't want to be king. I am abdicating the throne. I refuse to rule the elves of the Underground. They deserve someone who can do it right."

"Son," Olympus said, speaking as if Alex were merely a child throwing an embarrassing tantrum. "You don't learn how to be King overnight. It will take—"

"I've been training to be king since I was born!" he shouted. Of course his father wouldn't take him seriously. He never did. "And it's taken me eighteen years to realize the reason I'm so lousy at speaking and keeping royal secrets is because I have no desire to do well. I have no desire to do what you do, Dad. I have no desire to marry that Grace girl. I love someone else."

This, of all things, made Olympus's head bob back in surprise. "If this is about Grace, I'm sure we can make other arrangements. If you've found another elf who I find worthy of—"

"You aren't getting it," Alex said in a subdued tone now. Grace and her father were watching them from the doorway of the tearoom, looking livid. "The girl I love isn't from the Underground. She lives in the Outside."

"Elves who choose to live in the Outside are a bunch of—"

"She's not an elf. She's...human."

Darkness filled Olympus's eyes now. Until this point, he hadn't been taking Alex seriously. He clearly thought his son was throwing a sad little princely fit. And then he'd get over it, and they could go back in the room for tea, apologizing profusely to the Head Elf of Maplewood. But now...it seemed Olympus was truly seeing Alex for the first time.

Slowly, Olympus raised his arm and pointed at the doorway. "Get out," he said darkly. "Get out of my kingdom."

Even though Alex had planned to leave, the words still stung him. But he didn't let it show. He raised his head and walked out of the throne room. And he didn't look back.

# 18

### Don't Talk to Strangers

The elves had no idea Vyra was the one responsible for all the little elf kids' deaths. The Atrums didn't know either.

But Vyra was running out of dolls.

Her mother was a few more weeks along with her pregnancy now, and when Vyra saw her changing clothes, she noticed a small pooch at the bottom of her stomach where the new baby was growing. She hadn't been joking when she told her mom the Warriors would kill it. They killed anything with Atrum blood. And, if they continued to cower within the rocks of Bluff Bastion, the Warriors would grow bored of waiting. And they'd come.

So, Vyra had to make sure no more babies grew up to be Warriors.

The woods were thick around the town of Arbor Falls. After her attack on the blond girl with curly pigtails, the little elf school had stopped bringing the kids outside to play. But not all parents, especially Warrior parents, kept a close eye on their children. And it wasn't difficult for Vyra to hear the squealing laugh of an unattended weakling.

Her dark hair and dark clothes blended in with the bark of the surrounding trees as Vyra flitted around the trunk of a tree home she knew held a family of Warriors. Both the mom and dad wore their armor. And they had a little boy, who she was sure they hoped would someday carry on their evil, violent legacy. She could hear them laughing in the kitchen.

Peeking through the cracks of the fence of foliage, she could see him building a tower of sticks from the branches of the nearby tree. He had tan skin and beetle-black eyes. He could be as evil as her if he wanted to someday. He already looked it.

"Psst."

His dark eyes flashed to the spot where Vyra stood. "Who's there?" he said, picking up a sheath of arrows and a small bow. It made Vyra hate him more.

"It's just me silly," Vyra said with a lilting giggle. "What are you going to do, shoot me?"

"Who are you?" he asked in a guarded voice.

"I just want to play."

He strung an arrow through the bow in his hand. "My parents said not to play with strangers."

Vyra's eyes rolled. "Do you always do what your parents tell you?"

"Yes." He raised his bow.

"That's not very brave of you."

"Go away," he said. "Or I'll shoot you."

Vyra stepped out of the shadow of the tree now, fixing the boy with a patronizing glare. "You'd shoot a little girl? Is that what Warriors are teaching their babies to do?"

His eyes narrowed when he saw her and then flew wide. "You're an _Atrum_ ," he whispered.

He let the arrow fly in her direction. She leaped aside, but not quite fast enough. The point embedded deep in her thigh. Letting out a cry of rage as she ripped the arrow from her skin, she pointed her hand at the boy and sent a spark of electricity to shatter over him.

Not many kids her age had their powers yet. She was an exception. An anomaly. She was powerful. All he had were arrows.

It took ten seconds to kill the boy. He shouted and cried for a bit and then was silent. Vyra could hear the banging of doors and screams coming from inside the boy's house. His Warrior parents would be there soon. And they would kill her.

As she flitted away, running on her bleeding leg, she felt the gaze of the two Warrior parents land on her. Though she knew she shouldn't, she shot them a spiteful glance over her shoulder. The mother wasn't looking, collapsed beside the body of her son.

But the father was. Hatred and anger filled his face as he began to thunder towards her. Vyra slipped through the trees and leapt onto her unicorn, disappearing into the air and leaving the cries of the broken family in her wake.

# 19

### Rain, Rain, Come Again

Azalea kept the doubts and fears brewing inside her hidden from the rest of the group as they traveled one last time to Blarney. Zariah had called Wesley and asked oh-so-sweetly if she could bring a few friends to dinner with her. He'd enthusiastically agreed, and his mom promised to have a feast prepared for all of them.

Wesley told Zariah he was excited for her to meet his sisters. He didn't say anything about Alex.

Azalea's bottom lip was raw by the time they reached the Kings' home because she'd clamped down on it the entire car ride. Why had Alex lied about Wesley being his brother? Was he embarrassed by where he actually lived? Was he married with a kid and a dog and a mortgage? Was he really a criminal looking to kidnap naive American girls like herself?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She felt like she knew Alex. They'd only been around each other for a few weeks, but she knew him. She knew he loved autumn more than any other season. He loved it because it wasn't too hot or too cold and the leaves turned his favorite color—orange. She knew, if he ever had a son, he'd want to name him Luke, and that playing music made him happier than anything else in the entire world. She knew he was kind and gentle and funny and sometimes shy. She knew his eyes shined when he looked at her and that he kissed better than anyone she'd ever kissed. Times a thousand.

But was that enough? Were those important enough things? Or were they lies too?

"You okay, Zay?" Zariah asked as they climbed out of the cab and made their way to the Kings' front door. "You seem down."

"Just sad that this is probably the last time we'll be here," Azalea said. It was partly true.

"I'm sure Alex will show up," Zariah added, knowing the real reason for Azalea's melancholy frown. "Wesley said he usually does."

_Did he say why Alex would pretend to be his brother_? Azalea thought miserably.

Ms. King greeted them with warm hugs that smelled like cinnamon. Wesley kissed Zariah on the cheek and pulled her in the house, immediately introducing everyone to his twin sisters, Eleanor and Fern. They were identical and looked like younger versions of their mom. They had wild brown curls like Ms. King, like Wesley. Not like Alex.

Azalea wondered why she'd never asked him why he looked so different from his supposed family. Red hair was usually a dominant trait, wasn't it?

Wesley took over the conversation at the dinner table, telling the group stories about his sisters, who threw rolls at him and called him a gobshite. Joe, Shayn—who decided to come despite the lack of hot brothers—and Zariah laughed and cleaned their plates. Azalea pushed her peas into her potatoes and looked out the window.

It was starting to rain. It did that a lot in Ireland, on and off. But, right now, it seemed rather fitting. She felt like crying.

Eleanor and Fern insisted on teaching the American students some card games before they left, so they retired to the living room, sitting around the coffee table. With the amount of alcohol they brought in there, though, Azalea figured it would soon turn into drinking games.

"Alright, Azalea?" Wesley asked her as Zariah and Joe helped Ms. King carry plates into the kitchen before joining the twins to play cards.

"Yeah..." she began, then changed her mind. "Actually, no."

"Yeah? Can I help?"

"Maybe," she said, biting her lip and looking out the window again. "It's about Alex."

She noticed something cross quickly over his features. Like he knew something she didn't, but wasn't sure if he should say.

"He's been lying to me," she said.

"Oh?" He didn't sound surprised. "What about?"

"Who he is... I don't know what else."

Wesley nodded, crossing his arms, and looking down. "I see."

"Wesley," Azalea said earnestly. "If you know something I don't, please tell me. I don't want to be the stupid American girl who falls for the lying Irish boy."

"Falls?" Wesley said, looking up quickly. "You love him?"

Azalea bit her bottom lip for the billionth time that day before nodding.

Running a hand through his hair, Wesley looked out the window, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something.

"Please," Azalea said in a small voice. "Tell me."

Letting out a quick breath, Wesley said, "Okay. I'm going to take you somewhere. It's where Alex goes every night. That's all I'm going to say. He should be coming through any minute now. He will have to tell you the rest."

"The rest of what? Where are we going?"

"Blarney Castle," Wesley said. "Get your coat."

# 20

### Liar, Liar

The only thing keeping Alex moving forward, up the path to the waterfall, was the promise that he'd get to see Azalea soon. He needed her more than he needed air right now. His father's words rattled around like shards of glass in his head.

_Get out. Get out of my kingdom._

He was leaving willingly yet he felt like he was being banished. This wasn't how he'd pictured it. Not at all. He'd actually had a dream of telling his father about Azalea. And, unlike what actually happened, Olympus beamed with pride in the dream. He said he understood and wanted to meet her. Alex had asked him what they would do about the kingdom, and he said he'd already spoken with John about taking the throne. It all worked out. But that was a dream. Sometimes reality is the real nightmare.

Reaching the waterfall boundary, he took one last look over his shoulder at the home he was choosing to leave, in favor of the home he'd found. Azalea had taught him no one place was home. As long as she was with him, he'd go anywhere. She was his home.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned, but he turned away from the view of Arbor Falls. Then he stepped through the waterfall.

Wesley led Azalea through a tunnel in Blarney Castle. She didn't understand why Alex would be at the end of it unless he was homeless and slept there. But he was always so clean, so that didn't make any sense. Then they reached the end. She moved the flashlight in her hand from the ground to the top, throwing light over dirt and rocks.

"There's nothing here," she'd muttered, disappointed.

"There is," Wesley assured her.

He pressed his hand against the wall of the tunnel. Nothing happened at first, and then it shuddered and crumbled away. Azalea screamed and threw her arms over her head, expecting the old castle to crush her. But it didn't. Blinking, she looked up to see a vast forest filled with trees the size of sequoias.

Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she noted the tunnel out of which they'd just walked was inside one of the trees.

"How is this possible?" she whispered.

"Alex will explain everything," Wesley said. "Come on."

She wanted to ask more questions. A lot more questions. But Wesley was already several paces ahead of her, so she scuttled after him. He led her under a natural-made arch of branches and into a clearing where a breathtaking waterfall spilled into a still lake. It looked more like a mirror than a sheet of water.

"Here," Wesley said, waving a hand. "Wait here. He will come."

Azalea looked at him with wide eyes. "Why will he come here, Wesley? What is this place?"

A small smile tugged at his mouth. "It's where we come from."

Then he left.

A shiver ran up Azalea's arms, though it wasn't particularly cold, and she moved to a fallen log, sitting down to wait.

It wasn't long before Alex appeared, walking through the sheet of water without getting wet. Azalea couldn't help herself; she stood up when she saw him, momentarily forgetting she was here to confront him for lying. She took a few steps forward and stopped in her tracks.

Something was different about him. Physically different. His skin glowed ever so slightly from the inside out, his ears moved up into a smooth point. He looked beautiful.

Elven.

"Alex?" she whispered.

Alex's mind had been so bogged down by thoughts that he hadn't seen her immediately. He'd been in the process of bending down to scoop water into his hands so he could accelerate the change from elf to man.

When he heard her speak, though, he stopped, eyes moving until he saw her standing like a wood nymph in his forest. At first, his heart rose. He hadn't expected to see her so soon. But then, reality crushed it back down when he realized what she was seeing.

Him. As an elf.

"Azalea," he said in a quick tone. "I can explain."

Her mouth hung open, and her eyes were as round as they could be. She looked shell-shocked.

"Explain what exactly?" she managed. "Who... _are_ you?"

Sighing, he moved lithely across the path of rocks leading to the bank of the lake.

"Who am I, or what am I?"

Azalea took a step back as he moved onto solid ground and he stopped walking. "I don't even know," she breathed. "I need to sit down."

"Okay." Alex shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for Azalea to look at him again. It seemed to unnerve her. "Do you want me to change out of this form so you're not so freaked out?"

She looked up incredulously. "You think changing from one form to another isn't going to freak me out?"

He shrugged. "Just a suggestion."

"So. What are you?" she asked.

"I'm an elf... Actually, I'm the prince of the elves."

Her face turned white, but he'd already spilled his first and biggest secret, so he stumbled on. He told her everything. Everything. About the Underground and Arbor Falls, about his father and their fight, about his Power and how Wesley taught him how to use the water to change from elf to human form more quickly.

Then he told her the ultimate truth.

"But I'm leaving the Underground for good," he said.

It took Azalea a long time to speak. Her skin still hadn't returned to its normal color. "Why?" she whispered finally.

"Because I couldn't be bound to that girl. I couldn't be king. Because I'm in love with you."

At this, he expected a bit more of a smile, but she only frowned deeper, her eyes shining with tears.

"I can't do this," she said, shaking her head and knocking the tears loose.

"Because I'm an elf?" Alex said, hurt. "I can change that. Look." He moved to the edge of the water, scooping up a handful and drinking it down. The transformation was quick. He felt it tingling over him. He watched the radiance of his skin fade until he looked normal. "See?" he said. "I don't have to be that ever again."

He tried to move closer to her, but she kept taking steps back.

"No. That's not why," she said thickly.

"Then what is it? I can fix it."

"No, you can't," she whispered, more tears spilling down her cheeks. They were a constant stream now. "You lied to me, Alex. You broke that trust. I can't be with a liar. My mother lied to my father about the man she was with. She lied all the time and told me not to tell. I had to keep her secrets from him. Then he found out about everything. He found out I knew. It's been years, and he still hasn't completely forgiven me for not telling him. I can't be with a liar."

She turned quickly and dashed out of the clearing.

"Azalea!" Alex called after her.

But she was gone.

# 21

### When it Rains...

The ride back to Dublin was a long one. Azalea only stopped by the Kings' long enough to tell them she was taking a cab on her own and that they should stay. Shayn and Zariah were already drunk. Joe and one of Wesley's sisters were nowhere to be seen.

Wesley tried to ask Azalea what was wrong, but she just shook her head, feeling the torrent of tears building up again. She didn't want to cry in front of all of them. But when the cabbie took off towards Dublin, she let herself break. Just a little bit. He was probably horrified at toting a sobbing American girl so far, but she was past caring at the moment.

Everything that happened between her and Alex flashed through her head like a movie montage. Everything he'd said, every touch, every kiss. They were all lies. She hadn't told him about her mom and dad. She never told anyone about that. It wasn't really her story to tell, she didn't feel.

Her dad had loved her mom so much. His eyes had sparkled when he looked at her. As if she were the most beautiful thing in the whole world. But her mom hadn't cared. She'd had some early mid-life crisis and started going on benders with younger guys and telling Azalea's dad that she was going out with some girlfriends.

Her dad was a hospital nurse and worked the night shift, so he didn't see her come home. He didn't see her bring in guy after guy. All too young for her. But Azalea did. She saw everything. Her mom bribed her with clothes and dolls and pretty things. She told her if she said anything, it would be her fault their family fell apart.

Azalea hated her for it. But she kept her secret. She lied to her dad when he started to get suspicious.

Then he came home early one night after getting sick at work. He walked in on his wife in bed with a young college kid. Everything fell apart, just like her mom said it would. And Azalea blamed herself.

She lived with her dad all through middle school and high school and had no idea where her mom had run off to. She didn't really care. Her dad never talked about what her mom did, but sometimes he'd look at Azalea with narrowed eyes when he asked her questions and thought she might be lying. It killed her.

Just like looking at Alex had killed her tonight.

Alex made it to Wesley's house too late. Azalea had already taken a cab back to Dublin.

"What happened, man?" Wesley asked him. "Did she freak out when you told her—" he broke off, looking over his shoulder into the living room. Shayn and Zariah were laughing too loudly to hear anything. "I mean when she found out what you are?"

Alex shook his head. He knew Wesley was the one who had led Azalea to the waterfall boundary. He should be mad at him, but he wasn't. He was too emotionally drained to be mad at anyone other than himself.

"No," he answered Wesley. "She freaked out because I lied."

Wesley's head moved back at this. "Really? Hell, I lie all the time to birds. They don't need to know who I really am, you know?"

This didn't make Alex feel any better.

"Do you mind if I stay here for a little bit?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course. Stay as long as you need," Wesley said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Problem at the castle?"

He was joking, but when he saw the look on Alex's face, he stopped laughing.

"I left," Alex said. It still didn't feel real. "I told my father I don't want to be king."

Wesley cursed, shaking his head. Then he swiped a beer off the table and handed it to him. "Here. You likely need this."

Alex took it.

Azalea was startled awake by a knock on her bedroom door. She'd only had a few hours of sleep given that she had returned to the dorm around 2 AM and cried for another hour before drifting off. It was 6 AM now.

Groaning, she rolled out of bed saying, "This better be good, Zariah."

Part of her wanted to see Alex standing there. The other part was glad he wasn't. But neither was Zariah.

"Peter?" she said blearily to her teacher, glad she'd fallen asleep in her clothes instead of a nightshirt. "What are you—?"

"Azalea," he interrupted. "I came early last night, but you weren't here. I'm afraid there's been an accident. Your father was in a car wreck and is in critical condition. We can arrange to have you flown out as soon as possible."

Azalea felt her knees weaken. Then guilt came because the first thing she thought about wasn't her father. It was Alex.

# 22

### Gone

Alex woke to one of Wesley's sisters poking him in the chest.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered. "Wes says you're the prince."

Alex groaned in response.

"Mom made breakfast—a full Irish. Your American friends made a nice dent in it, but there's still some left. You hungry?"

"No," he answered, sitting up. "Where are the others?"

"Wesley is driving them back to Dublin. They're loading the car now."

At this, Alex shot up, rushing past Wesley's sister and barreling out the front door. Wesley's run-down station wagon was in the process of pulling out of the drive as Alex chased after it, waving his arms. The car slammed to a stop.

He reached it, panting as he flung the back door open. "I'm coming too," he said, pushing Shayn over. As their seat grew suddenly rather crowded, Joe groaned and crawled into the back to sleep off his hangover.

"Oh, yay!" Zariah said, turning around in her seat. "I'm so glad you're coming. Azalea looked really upset last night."

Alex tried to smile but grimaced instead. He hated that he was the reason for upsetting the one person that usually made everything better for him.

The drive to Dublin felt like it took forever. His mind scanned every known word in his vocabulary, looking for the best combination. What was he supposed to say to her? _I'm sorry I'm an elf._ No. _I'm sorry I lied about being an elf._ Better. _Listen, I've never done this before. I'd never been in the Outside or met the most beautiful human girl in the entire world, and I just said what I thought I should. I'm sorry, okay? I'm so, so, so, so sorry._

This was why he couldn't be the king. He didn't know how to speak under pressure. His words jumbled into a mess of letters. Sighing, Alex pressed his forehead against the window and watched as they sped by rolling green hills and tiny little towns. There weren't many trees in Ireland. At least, not in the places Alex had seen. The stretch of land between Blarney and Dublin. It looked nothing like the Underground.

But he still found it beautiful. Elves always made the Outside seem so ugly and unappealing. It really wasn't. He loved it all. He'd have no problem making it his home forever. Except...

He hadn't wanted to leave things with his father like that. And he hadn't said goodbye to any of his friends. None of that felt right. But the way he'd left things with Azalea felt more pressing. More immediate. Besides, it was evident his father needed to cool off a bit before he saw his son marching back into the kingdom.

Wesley pulled up to the dorms and Alex was the first out of the car, not waiting for the other three to follow him. He ran full-speed to the dorm, pounding on the door of the one that housed Azalea. He knocked three times and waited. Not patiently. Then he knocked again.

Maybe she'd looked out the window and seen him. This was going to be harder than he thought. By the time Zariah, Shayn, and Joe arrived at the door, he'd already knocked twenty times.

"If you would've waited, we could have let you right in," Zariah said, pushing Alex gently aside as she stuck the key into the hole and turned. He was practically bouncing from anxiety, letting Zariah walk ahead of him. She was tired and dragging, which meant she was walking slowly. A nervous hum of energy pushed Alex forward, following Zariah a few inches too close.

"Azalea!" Zariah called out. "Someone is here to see you!"

She knocked on Azalea's door as she passed before going to her own room. Shayn and Joe did the same. He could practically hear all three of them simultaneously collapse onto their bed.

Azalea still hadn't answered the door. Alex knocked again, more gently this time, hope and trepidation battling against one another in his core.

"Azalea?" Alex said eventually. "Please come out and talk to me."

He wanted to apologize then and there, but he didn't want the others to hear. He didn't want to embarrass her in front of her friends. So he just knocked again.

A small gasp could be heard from Zariah's room, and she walked into the hall, holding a small piece of paper and wearing a thunderstruck expression. She had tears in her eyes.

Alex looked at her in question.

"You can stop knocking," she said quietly, holding up the piece of paper. "Azalea's gone."

# 23

### Father, Daughter Playtime

Vyra awoke to find her father glaring down at her. She sat up in bed. She didn't like to feel cornered or surprised. Having the upper hand was essential. Her father was the one who had taught her that. Now he was the weak one.

"I know what you've been doing," he growled. Then he picked her up by the arm, tugging her forcefully off the bed. "You stupid girl," he spat. "You've angered the Warriors. They know it was you who killed those elf children. They're planning a mutiny. I hope you're happy. You've put this entire island in danger."

He pushed her backward, and she flew into the pile of dolls in the corner of her room. She didn't cry, though. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried.

No. She was just angry.

"I am happy," she answered, sending a jolt of purple electricity into her father's chest. He hadn't been expecting it. His hand flew up as he stumbled back, eyes going wide. "I'm happy I'm actually doing something about those pathetic elves. You and the rest of the Atrums are a bunch of cowards," she shouted. "Hiding from the Warriors and taking out your frustrations on the warlocks because you still want to be feared, but not enough to get hurt."

Her father cursed at her, calling her a long string of names one wouldn't think a father should say to a daughter. But none of them hurt her. She'd built up an iron-clad wall long ago. After all, her mother always said she was wise beyond her years.

Her father moved forward, his hands outstretched. She wasn't afraid of him. His Power was useless. Utterly useless. He could breathe underwater. Not the best defense in Vyra's opinion. Sending another string of beautiful electricity—the color of her eyes—she watched as her father collapsed onto the ground this time.

Vyra laughed at him. He looked like a miserable beetle knocked onto its back. She strolled casually forward until she stood right above him, looking down. "If you get in my way," she said in a low voice. "I will kill you."

His face turned red like he wanted to yell, but he had fear in his eyes too. So he didn't.

She laughed again.

"That was fun, Daddy," she said with a giggle, patting him on the forehead with a shock. "I miss playing with you."

With that, she left the room, floating like a ghost in her white nightgown. Padding out of Bluff Bastion, she walked until she found her unicorn.

The black beast dipped its head in what looked like a nod, kneeling down so she could climb onto him. "It's time to visit Arbor Falls again," she said to him. "But, this time, we're bringing more of your friends. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

# 24

### Unicorn Stampede

It took three passes of the note Azalea had left for Zariah for the words to fully sink into Alex's brain. Her dad had been in an accident. He was in bad shape. She was flying home today. She was sorry she couldn't say goodbye.

Zariah moved past a stunned Alex and opened Azalea's door. All of her things were gone. Her room was empty.

Alex took one look and bolted from the dorm. He ran until he made it back to Wesley's car. Smoking what Outsiders called a cigarette, he leaned back against the hood.

"Alex? What are—?"

"I need your help, Wes," Alex interrupted. "Azalea's gone. She's flying home today."

"You're going to chase after her, aren't you," Wesley said with a slowly spreading grin.

"Yes. But, first, I need to go back to the Underground. One last time."

Vyra rode atop her unicorn, feeling much taller than she was. Her chin tilted up with pride. The horde of animals in her wake made her feel like a battle leader. She liked to daydream. One of her favorites was of a dark army of creatures that did her every bidding. Dark, evil, soulless creatures without fear or morals. Unlike her father and mother and the rest of the pathetic Atrums on Alder Island. Creatures who were built to kill. That was her dream.

Right now, though, she'd have to settle for unicorns.

It was that time of morning where the elves of Arbor Falls were emerging from their tree homes and going about their lives, walking through the town, without a worry. Without a care. Without a unicorn horn stabbed through their chest.

She intended to change all that. Especially the latter.

"Ready?" she whispered to the beast on which she rode. "Go."

Wesley had been holding back on him. His car could go much faster than he'd been driving. They practically flew back to Blarney.

"Hope you're sure about this," Wesley said as he pulled up to Blarney Castle. "It's a big decision."

"I made up my mind about this a long time ago," Alex said. "Wait here. I'll be back."

Nodding, Wesley took out a cigarette and lit it, reclining his seat.

Alex ran faster than he'd run in...well, probably ever. An unexplained feeling of dread built up in his stomach until he felt it coming out of his mouth, choking him. Was he afraid of his father? Or was he afraid to say goodbye to the Underground forever? Either way, it was fear that drove him forward. Fear of losing Azalea.

The waterfall boundary waited for him, calm and silent and peaceful. The opposite of Alex. He barreled over the stepping stones and practically dove through the sheet of water. He came out on the other side gasping for air. But he didn't allow himself to stop. There wasn't time to pause.

Something felt off. He couldn't explain it, but there was an imbalance in the air. It wasn't until he reached the edge of the cliff that he understood why.

A stampede of unicorns trampled through City Circle, swinging their heads about, ramming their horns through anyone crossing their path. The elves of the town were screaming and running. Warriors were stringing their bows, shooting them down. Powers of all colors and shapes were being sent to hold off the beasts.

Without thinking, Alex bolted down the path into town, snatching an abandoned bow and sheath of arrows off the ground. He jumped into the onslaught. He'd always thought of unicorns as peaceful creatures. They were dangerous, yes, but if they were left alone, they didn't typically harm anyone. This was unusual activity for them. Someone must have convinced them to do this.

"Alex!"

He turned to see John and Atticus pumping the remainder of their arrows into the horned beasts from atop the fountain in the center of City Circle.

"I thought you left!" Atticus said.

"I did," Alex answered, stringing an arrow through his bow and letting it fly. "I am."

"You _are_?" John said.

The unicorns' numbers were few now. The ones that had caught on to what would happen to them if they entered the battle with the Warriors had turned and run back into the thick foliage. John grabbed two of the arrows out of Alex's sheath and shot the last of them.

The panicked town went silent. Rivers of blood poured over the cobblestones. Bodies littered the ground. At least twenty elves had been killed. It was like the aftermath of a stampede. As if the unicorns had moved suddenly like a tornado through the town, destroying whatever what was in its path before disappearing into the air.

"What the hell happened?" Alex asked John.

"Atrums," John growled. "Their attacks have been increasing. Dylan Dyer's son was killed by one of the Atrum children."

Alex cursed under his breath.

"Did you say you're leaving?" Atticus interrupted. "For good?"

Sucking in a quick breath, Alex dipped his head in a nod. "I came to say goodbye."

John's jaw clenched, and he looked out over the town. Alex knew he disapproved. That he thought he was being selfish. Maybe he was. But he wouldn't be the best leader if nothing mattered to him but a human girl in the Outside. It was better that he leave.

Atticus clapped Alex on the shoulder, offering him a supportive look. "I trust you, Al," he said. "You know what you're doing."

"I do."

"I'm going to help with the bodies," Atticus said in a resigned voice.

Alex nodded and looked to John. His face was turned towards the massacre. "You _sure_ you know what you're doing?" he said.

"More than I ever have," Alex said.

John nodded, then unexpectedly pulled Alex into a quick hug. "Well, good luck then. Keep in touch. Somehow."

A small smile tugged at Alex's features as he and John parted ways. Alex made his way to the castle much more slowly than he'd come into town. How was a son supposed to say goodbye to his father forever?

The throne room was full of sobbing elves. They'd come for advice and safety. The attack of the unicorns had left them shaken and afraid. Olympus walked among them, consoling and advising, promising a retaliation. His eyes landed on Alex, and he froze in place.

Swallowing, Alex walked forward until he stood in front of his father. "I came to say goodbye," he said in a low voice. "Azalea has left Ireland, and I'm going after her. I don't know how long I'll be away from the Underground. I'm not sure when I'll be able to return."

Olympus blinked but didn't say anything.

Alex continued to speak. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I'm not the son you were hoping for," Alex said through the thickness in his throat.

As he turned to leave, he heard his father's reply. "You're more than I'd ever hoped for, Al."

Revolving around, Alex's gaze returned to Olympus's, their matching hazel eyes locking. "What?" he said in disbelief.

"You're strong, determined, and passionate. You're your own man. You follow in no one's footsteps. That's more than I could have hoped for. If you must go...I won't understand. But I will respect it. Just know you're always welcome to return home."

Brows turning up in the middle, Alex moved several steps forward and hugged his father for the last time. At least for a long time.

Olympus squeezed him hard before holding his son at arms' length. "Now go show the Outside what an Oaken is made of."

Alex's smile was watery, and he turned away before his father could see the tears in his eyes. He felt like a ghost moving through the town. No one paid him any attention. They were too focused on what had just happened with the unicorns. Alex didn't blame them. Part of him felt guilty for leaving during a time like this. But he'd never been good with tragedy. Elves would come to him for advice or comfort, and he'd just end up saying the worst thing he could say, patting them awkwardly on the back. It wasn't that he was unfeeling. He felt more deeply than most young elves, he thought. It was just expressing it. Maybe that had been the problem with Azalea.

Moving up the path to the waterfall boundary one last time, the steps grew more difficult, like he was trudging through knee-high sand. He made it to the top, but he wasn't alone.

A stray unicorn stood a few feet back from the edge of the cliff, and upon it rode a small girl. Judging from the gray pallor of her skin and the sunken hollows beneath her eyes, Alex assumed she was an Atrum. The girl turned to look at him. Her irises were a shocking violet, and her stare was impassive. Uncaring.

If he were John or another Warrior, he might have killed her on the spot. At the very least he would have raised the alarm. But he didn't.

"They're looking for you, you know," he told her.

"I know," she answered with the glimmer of a smile.

"Better go on back home now," he said.

The surprise was barely evident in the girl's features, but it was there. Clearly, she'd expected him to fight as well. Her small hand twitched as if she was considering shooting her power at him, whatever that was. But she didn't. She simply pressed her hand against the side of the unicorn, and it blinked out of existence.

He hadn't known they could do that. He stared at the spot the girl had just disappeared from, wondering for a brief moment if perhaps she had been the one responsible for all the recent deaths of the children.

See? He was a terrible king.

So, he turned, and he left the Underground. He had a bigger mission to attend to.

# 25

### Big Skies

The flight home was nothing short of torture. Azalea's mind bounced back and forth between thoughts of her dad, hoping he was still alive when she landed, and Alex. Just...Alex.

Her heart ached. And she hated that. She wanted to hate him. But she couldn't manage it. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous she felt. His lie hadn't been about a girl he was with or some dark, dangerous secret. It had been about what he was. An elf. Because apparently those existed. That fact alone had muddled her mind.

She realized everything else Alex said was just his version of the truth. When he'd said he didn't want to take over his father's family business, he'd meant he didn't want to be king. Because why would he tell her what he was? He'd risk her thinking he was crazy. She didn't. She just thought she might be.

When her last plane landed, her friend, Jaycee, picked her up from the airport. Jaycee was Azalea's opposite. Wild black hair and an even bigger personality. But right now she was reserved. Which made Azalea feel worse.

"He's going to be okay, sweetie," Jaycee said, pulling her into a tight hug. "He'll be fine."

Jaycee drove her to the hospital where they'd flown her dad. The accident was too critical for their small town doctor to treat. When they got there, they had to wait to see him. He'd already had a major surgery and flat-lined twice, the doctor told her, pretending he didn't notice her steady stream of tears.

"He's stable. For now."

For now.

When they finally let her in to see him, he was still sedated. He looked bad. Cuts on his face, tubes in his arms and nose. But he was alive, and she could finally breathe again. He didn't wake up while she was in the room with him and she held his hand until the nurse told her she should go get some rest. Azalea figured it was just a nice way of telling her that she needed to leave so she could do her job without his daughter in the way.

She wished he would wake up. But, then again, she wasn't ready for him to ask her about her trip. She wasn't ready to say that she'd left half of her heart behind in another country. This thought made her bite back another round of tears building up behind her eyes. She didn't want to cry anymore.

Walking out of the ICU, she moseyed over to a chair that she thought might be comfortable enough to sleep in for a few hours. Jaycee had already left on Azalea's orders. It was late, and she had work early the next morning. Jaycee had urged her to come stay the night, but Azalea didn't want to stray too far from the hospital. Just in case.

She sat down, a fog of sleepiness crashing over her. She gave into it, not caring if the other people in the waiting room judged her for drooling or snoring.

In her dreams, Alex was there. He was running a hand through her hair, kissing her on the forehead, murmuring words of apology and support. It was a really, really good dream.

But when she woke up, he was still there, sitting in the chair beside her. With a start, she sat bolt upright, laying wide eyes on him. Then she looked around to see if she was still dreaming, pinching her forearm. It hurt.

"Are you real?" she whispered.

A relieved smile sparkled in his eyes. "I think so," he answered in a murmur. "Do I feel real?"

"You're in Texas? How are you in Texas? How did you—"

"I have some connections," he said with a wink. He couldn't stop smiling at her.

She stood up suddenly. "I need some air."

He stood with her. They left the waiting room, into the warm early morning. The sky was still dark, strewn with stars, but the sun was on its way. Azalea took in a deep breath.

Alex looked up. "You have big skies here."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. "I still can't decide if I'm dreaming or not."

He turned to her, placing a hand on each of her arms. "You're awake. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, Azalea. Ever again."

She bit her lip, and he bent to kiss her. This was the fresh air she'd been searching for. This was the breath she needed. This kiss.

"I'm still mad at you," she whispered against his lips.

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers. Reaching back, he pulled a card and a passport out of his pocket. He held the card beneath them so they were both looking down at it. The card was an ID. A Texas driver's license.

He wasn't lying about having connections.

"Looks like I'll be living here now. So, I have a long time to make it up to you."

# Continue the journey...with OAKEN—Book 1 of the Underground Series

**Before Everything**

* * *

In retrospect, Autumn could not have chosen a worse night to get drunk for the first time.

"So, you're Luke's sister, right?" asked a senior jock with half-closed eyelids, who was much drunker than Autumn. She nodded, taking another gulp of the poison her brother had mixed up for her. "And you're twins? But you don't look anything like him. I mean, Luke is so tall and gangly and you are so...not." He winked. "Not saying you're fat, just saying you've got curves. Good curves." Autumn downed the rest of her drink. "I don't usually go for redheads, but for you I think I can make an exception."

"Okay. Time to go, Rose," Autumn's brother Luke said from behind her, shooting the crestfallen jock a warning look.

The jock ignored Luke. "Rose? I thought your name was Autumn."

"Rose is my middle name."

The jock hiccupped. "Roses are pretty."

"Leaving. Now." Luke pulled Autumn off of the couch and out to the car.

"Are you sure you can drive right now?" Autumn asked Luke, her words slurring slightly, something she was not accustomed to. Her head swam in the alcohol and she wanted nothing more than to be in her bed. She was _never_ drinking again. Ever.

"I drive better drunk than sober." Luke laughed as he turned the key in the ignition, his old Ford pickup roaring to life.

"I can't believe I drank so much." Autumn cradled her face in her hands. "I was supposed to be the DD."

"Live a little, Rose! Save people tomorrow."

"Hey, Oaken! Y'all leavin'?" a voice called from outside. Autumn didn't bother to look at who it was.

"Yeah, man," Luke said. "Our parents are early risers. They'll kill us if they find out we went to this party."

"Lame!" the guy yelled before tripping over a beer bottle.

With that, Luke floored the gas, kicking up a wave of gravel, and sped down the dirt road leading back into their small town. A line of pink appeared on the horizon, whispering that the sun was not far behind.

"Hurry, Luke. I bet Mom and Dad are already up."

"Chill out. It's the weekend. They'll want to sleep in."

The tires squealed in protest as Luke turned sharply, throwing Autumn against the car door.

"Slow down! You're gonna get us killed."

"You were just telling me to hurry! Make up your damn mind."

Finally, Autumn could see their small blue house in the distance. No lights shone through the windows. Their parents were still asleep. Luke flew into the circular driveway and quickly killed the loud engine to avoid waking their parents.

"Don't slam your—" Luke began as Autumn banged her door shut. "Door."

"Oops."

"Nice, Rose."

"Sorry!" she said in a harsh whisper.

Luke rolled his eyes and walked around the perimeter of the house to the window they had escaped from several hours ago. It was still cracked a few inches and Luke slowly slid the glass up, trying not to make a sound. He climbed into his bedroom, Autumn right behind him, listening for a sign that their parents were awake, but the air was thick with silence.

"I can't believe we actually got away with it," Autumn said.

"Yeah, with you slamming doors and everything." Luke sent her another annoyed glance. "I'm gonna go make sure they're still in bed."

Suddenly a cold chill washed over Autumn, like she had just been dunked in a tub of ice water. Her breath caught in her chest and eyes temporarily clouded over.

"Rose? You okay?" She heard Luke speak, but he sounded far away. "Maybe you should go to bed. This _is_ the first time you've been drunk, after all."

"Something's wrong," she managed to say.

"With you?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I just got a really bad feeling all of a sudden."

"Maybe you're about to hurl." Autumn shot Luke an annoyed look and he laughed. "I'm going to see if Mom and Dad are still sleeping. Here's a trashcan...just in case."

" _Gross_." Autumn groaned, collapsing onto Luke's bed as he tiptoed out of the room.

Her eyes slid shut, sleep threatening to overtake her, when she heard Luke let out a soul-shaking cry from the other room. Eyes flying open, Autumn sat bolt upright, her heart thumping hard.

"Luke?" she called out.

Sporadic footsteps resounded in the hallway and Autumn waited, wide-eyed and terrified. Luke stumbled and clasped the doorway for support. The expression on his face petrified her.

"Luke, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

He opened his mouth to speak but merely choked, letting out a sob.

"What?" Autumn cried, her voice rising. "What happened?"

He sobbed something unintelligible. The only word Autumn could make out was "dead."

* * *

Autumn and Luke stood outside, watching as their entire small town's police force—and the neighboring towns' as well—marked their house off with yellow crime scene tape. The first murder in nearly thirty years. The town sheriff, a man with a bulging gut and brown, water-stained teeth approached them with a morose look on his face.

"I'm afraid there was nothing they could do, kids," he said. "They're gone."

Autumn's heart dropped and her body went numb. She felt like she was falling. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.

"Who did this?" asked Luke in a dead voice.

"We're still investigating that, son."

" _Why?_ " Autumn said, barely audible. She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't form. Her brain didn't seem to be working correctly. It was as if the world was spinning in slow motion—or maybe the world was the same as ever and she was the one lagging behind.

"I can't say for sure, but it appears to be a random act of violence. It was simply bad luck." _Bad luck_ , Autumn thought. "It's strange. There don't seem to be any signs of forced entry," the sheriff continued.

Luke's face went white and he whispered, "The window."

"What's that, son?"

"We—we snuck out through the window last night. We left it open."

The sheriff frowned, looking at the ground but said nothing.

"We have no family now," Autumn whispered. The realization of this statement hit her with such force that she had trouble standing upright.

"I was told that it was written in your parents' will that your next of kin lives in some town in Ireland. Arrangements are being made to get y'all over there soon after the funeral."

Luke and Autumn looked up and spoke in unison.

" _Ireland_?"

# Read the rest of the series now

OAKEN

(Book 1 of the Underground Series)

* * *

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* * *

ASH

(Book 2 of the Underground Series)

* * *

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* * *

ALDER

(Book 3 of the Underground Series)

* * *

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# Also by Melody Robinette

THE CHOICE

* * *

Dream Snatchers

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# About the Author

Melody is the Amazon Bestselling Author of the Underground Series. She lives in Texas with her husband and two fat cats. When she isn't teaching, she can be found in a cozy coffee shop with a latte in her hand, typing madly away with little awareness of the world around her. As a dreamer by nature—her story worlds are where she is happiest.

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