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Lantern light flickered overhead as Abby gazed out into the sea of Aelurian faces. It was startling to see, a myriad of colors and patterns - black spots on sandy fur, stripped muzzles, an all-white like freshly fallen snow, a blazing orange struck through with black bolts.

All the Moonborn Houses had been in attendance, sat lavishly around decorated tables in the ballroom. The younger of the houses indulged in dancing, while their older counterparts drank the servant's pitchers dry.

The last time Abby'd been there, she'd witnessed a murder. Condoned by the crown. An entire family punished in front of the throne. She could recall it vividly. The trembling of their knees, the anxious swish of their cat tails, the pleading from the mother for the child to be spared. The whir of the blade cutting through air before it found its target.

The kindness of Lucy's touch, shielding her from the worst of it. And the thump of the bodies when it was over.

She wondered how many others had been cut down in the room that now served to fatten the Aelurian elite. A feast had been prepared just for them. Roasted meats sizzled on hot plates, their juices running over spice-crusted ends. Platters of dried fruits and carmelized nuts were hoisted far over servants' heads to offer to those Aelurians exhausted from the dance. A plethora of jams and jellies jiggled in bejeweled crystal jars. There were soft cheeses, slightly melted and creams, fully chilled. Cauldrons of bubbling stews. Homemade breads.

All the blood spilt, the sacrifices made, forgotten.

Her gaze tore from the Aelurians, and ran over her own table, a meager selection of every dish, served on stone crockery. The soft silk of her gown skimmed her shoulders as her fingers closed around a fork and prodded the meat on her plate. As she sighed, she saw him entering the room. The music changed swiftly, from an upbeat jig to something more befitting the arrival of Aelurus's new king.

He made his way through the parted crowd with ease before sitting in the throne. He was handsome as ever, prim and regal in all black, golden crescent moons glittering on the lapel of his jacket. His fur had been slicked, and the white stripe that cut his face in half, that had made him distinguishable from Sebbi, was no longer hidden.

He wore the crown well. The dark stones reflecting the light of the lanterns as they haloed his head.

But it looked heavy and uncomfortable. And just as she thought this, Lucy shifted, placing one hulking leg over the other, before resting his tail lazily across his thighs.

It'd been adorned in bangles, a single, black ribbon tied into a bow at the end.

Abby swallowed as she mindlessly reached up and began stroking her hair, running her fingers over the complicated braids one of the maids had done. They'd accented the hairstyle with flowers and when Abby was asked if she wanted any ribbons, she'd declined.

Lucy had probably noticed, but, she figured, he had bigger things to worry about now that he was king. Ruler of Aelurus. Rightful heir to the throne, the last of the Crescent Moon bloodline.

Lucian Dinn'Aelurus.

It had hurt. Watching the coronation. Staying still while he marched toward a destiny that'd been shoved onto his shoulders. While he recited the words of his ancestors, while he received the gods' blessings, while the heads of the Moonborn houses pledged their fealty. 

It'd felt like a funeral. Like Abby was being forced to say goodbye again. To Lucy, to her version of him. The one who wore hideous brocades seasons out of style, who chased his pants down on the streets of Ean more than once, who sauntered and simpered and joked. The Lucy who had loved her completely and unfailingly for eleven years of her life.

He wasn't returning to Mirea with her. He'd be overseeing a hostile kingdom, trying to oust his enemies and outmaneuver his political rivals. A life spent in constant danger, the same one that had led Sebbi to his ruin.

When the whole of the kingdom had bowed, acknowledging the reign of their new king, Abby had remained standing. Stoic and saddened. And their eyes had met from across what had felt like a chasm neither of them would ever be able to overcome.

They stared at each other and then, they acknowledged it. The end of a journey. Their goodbye. Quiet in passing, like storm clouds that have no bite, that shed no rain or volley no thunder. No reminders to anyone of their once existence.

Sighing, Abby reached for her goblet, running a finger along its rim as the dance floor grew crowded with drunken Aelurians. They twirled and swayed, slurred laughter falling from their mouths.

Abby glanced at her plate, piled high with Aelurian delicacies, hand-picked for her by a servant well-versed in hemma palates. There were slices of herb-crusted meats slathered in gravies, creamed vegetables, roasted fruits and a burgundy jam but she wanted none of it.

Instead, she wished she could return to her rooms, curl up on her bed, and continue closing out the world.

"May I?" A pale finger pointed to the seat opposite her.

Abby'd sat at a table near the back of the room, hoping to draw as little attention as possible. For the most part, it'd worked; Aelurians were interested in the king's hemma, but not enough to be seen making an effort. They must have realized the hunt wouldn't be worth the consequences. But Crum wouldn't leave her alone, even under threat of death.

She nodded.

He plopped himself into the chair, elbows propped on the table, dazzling in navy attire, his hair a perfect mess of curls.

"You know," he said, smile sliding onto his face, "you're supposed to argue with me. Say something like, 'that chair is for people I like.'" Abby's gaze flickered with recognition, and Crum's smile spread, "and then I remind you that you like my hair," he ran a hand through it for emphasis, the curls falling away from his fingers like rain drops.

"But," she said, the memory simmering in her mind - her thirteenth birthday and the magick of it all before it'd evaporated, "hair's hair. That seat's for people I like wholely."

Crum nodded, and leaned back in his chair, the lantern light bathing his face in a warm glow. "You've got a few of those now. Maybe someday, you'll consider me among them."

"I--" Abby's mouth clamped shut as she bit back the words she would have said. I already do. If she said it, she'd be setting herself up to lose something else. And hadn't the world already taken from her what it could? She refused to give it anything else.

"Whiskers," From behind, Margo appeared, barrelling through the crowd, her radiance the festering green of an infected wound. Without asking, she threw herself into the seat next to Abby, yanked a piece of cheese to her mouth and tore into it. "Reven won't let me see him."

She slammed her fist to the table, knocking a few purple berries from their vine. They careened over the edge and fell before some Moonborn lady's foot. She glowered at the offending fruit, before snickering at her companion and rejoining the crowd.

Margo huffed. "All I want is to make sure he's eating." Her gaze darted to Lucy, who leaned on the throne's armrest while an orange and black-stripped Aelurian accosted his ears. Lucy's tail flicked with obvious annoyance.  "See? Not a plate of anything. He's got to eat." Margo glanced at Abby's plate and grimaced. "You too," she poked her forehead. "You will, right?"

Abby swallowed. "Yes."

Margo's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

She nodded.

"Well," Margo grabbed a couple of slices of meat off a platter, wrapped them in a napkin and stuffed them into her pocket, "I'm going to try and keep his royal highness fed, despite what that hawk-eyed, advisor says. You--" she speared the air in front of Crum's face with a fork. "Make sure this one eats." He nodded and Margo smiled.

She reached down and gave Abby's shoulder a squeeze before slipping back into the crowd.

"Abby--" Her eyes floated to Crum's face. He held her plate in his hands. "You really should--"

Abby's stomach knotted as she gazed at the food. Food she knew she should eat. Food that looked delicious. All she had to do was take a few bites and she'd be able to lessen her friend's worry and yet--

If she did, this would be the last meal her and Lucy shared together. And she couldn't bear it be here, in this place, while they sat so far apart.

"I--" She shot to her feet, the chair wobbling beneath her, "I need some air."

Crum stood. "Then, I'll come with you," his eyes flitted over the the balcony doors to their left. "Let me--"

"No," Abby crumpled her napkin, "I need to be by myself."

His expression darkened, his gaze dropping to the table. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

She smiled, but it hadn't felt all that convincing. "Thank you."

With that, she slipped into the crowd, careful not to step on any Aelurian tails. She eyed the entrance to the balcony once, before dipping into an empty corridor.

Steeling herself against the wall, she breathed out. She wanted to leave, to be anywhere but there, but Aelurian festivities went on well into the morning and leaving early would be seen as a slight. She would certainly not mar the beginning of Lucy's reign by what his enemies would claim was insolent hemma behavior.

Still, she tugged on of her dress sleeves, watching as the deep red fabric fell to her waist, maybe she could feign sick and get herself excused that way, like she had to get out of Miss Poppice's class when an important test rolled around. Then again, she doubted such childish lies capable of tricking the Aelurians. All they seemed to understand were lies and deception and death.

"Shouldn't you be dancing or gorging yourself on Aelurian delicacies?"

Abby thought she'd made certain she was unfollowed when she left the party, something Reven insisted upon her doing, but when she snapped her head around, she knew she'd been wrong.

Axion emerged from the darkness. He wore powder blue, suit jacket, crumpled trousers. His hair a disheveled mess that fell freely to his waist. What few stars embellished his skin were a faded grey like dried ink.

Her mouth fell open. He'd been gone since he'd retrieved Sebbi's body from the crypts and news of his return hadn't made its way back to her.

"Axion," she said, stumbling toward him on Aelurian sandals two sizes too big for her, "no one told me--"

He shrugged and cast a sideways glance at the torchlight flickering over the wall, the shadows shrinking away from him. "You wouldn't have known. I told no one." He returned his gaze and though they were at opposite ends of the corridor, Abby could feel his cold brush against her shoulders and ghost her cheeks. She shivered, and pulled her arms around herself instinctively.

"It was a last minute decision."

A burst of nervous laughter spilled from her lips. "That sounds like you." She stepped away the wall, her gaze darting to the ballroom. "You should have told someone though. One of Lucy's guards could have mistaken you for a trespasser."

Axion stumbled toward her, into the torchlight. Under it, she could better make him out. The sunken way his face was, the way his skin seemed to stretch over the bones underneath, too thin. The stubble along his jaw. The glazed look of his eyes. The dull pulse of his stars. His gaze landed on what she'd been looking at and she gulped. Something about him was off.  "Thinking about returning to the party?" he said, running a sleeve below his nose. Abby stiffened. "Why though? I thought you came out here to get away from it?" His eyes narrowed. "To get away from them. You don't belong here." He jabbed a finger into his chest. "Just like I don't belong there."

She gulped and started to make her way back to the ballroom, her sandals making soft shuffles against Darkmoore's smooth floor. "I should get back. I left Crum by himself and Margo's probably getting into trouble with Reven and--"

Axion took another step toward her, this one straighter, less jilted. Faster.  Under the glow of even more torchlight, she caught a glimpse of metal being strangled in his hand. Her heartbeat quickened. "You know," he raised it to his mouth, brushing it against his lips. She was certain it was a knife. "You always babble when you're nervous." His eyes flashed white before he slipped into a shadow and disappeared.

Abby wasted no time. She sprinted, fast as she could, toward the ballroom, and had her hands wrapped around the curtains, ready to peel them back and expose her duress, when Axion's hand ripped her away.

He turned her toward him, the tip of the knife aimed at her neck.

She slammed her eyes shut, breath pitched, heart shattering her rib cage, her mind drowned in thoughts of her soon to be death but...nothing. No pain, no feeling of being sliced open or stabbed.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Axion was on his knees, panting, the knife at his feet. A sinister smile played across his lips as a wall of shadows separated him from Abby.

"What in the--"

"It's just as I thought." Axion slid his fingers through his hair and the shadow wall crumbled. Eight shadow masses stood sentinel in front of Abby, spiked limbs trained on Axion.

"What do you mean?" Her gaze flitted between him and the shadows. "And why did you try to kill me?"

"Because I had to see for myself."

"See what?"

"If his power had transferred." Axion dragged himself to his feet and shook the hair out of his eyes.

"Axion, I'm not understanding--" The shadows pressed together, a blobbish shield as Axion took a step forward.

"Long," he said, flashing her a mirth less smile, "live the king."

•

"What?" Abby shuffled back and forth along the balcony, the hem of her dress catching under foot as she struggled to wrap her head around the nonsense Axion was spewing. "This is impossible." She shook her head.

King. Her, a king. No way.

Axion leaned against the railing, tugging on his shirt sleeve and releasing a breath into the night air. It frosted in front of his face before dissipating. "Not only is it possible, it's occurred, your majesty."

"Don't," she clicked her tongue, and shook her head harder, unraveling part of her hairdo, "call me that, even in jest."

"But I'm not joking."

Abby ignored him for a little longer. Her. King. The new Shadow king. And why? Because she'd killed him in the crypts? That had caused the power transfer to occur?

She stormed over to the balcony, clawed at the railing and screamed.

Axion's stars fluttered overhead of his eyes and raised. "Feel better?"

Abby slumped. "No. Not at all. Axion, I can't be a king."

"Not with that attitude you can't." Axion smirked, his tone playful. Abby was in no mood for jokes.

"Axion--" She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

Axion straightened. "Fine. I'll quit joking, but it's true and no amount of denial is going to change it. By Evernight law, you have acquired the power of the throne. The shadows recognized you as their sovereign. You are Shadow King."

Her frown worsened. "I don't want to be a king."

"Want has nothing to do with it." Axion's stars darkened. "But it's not all bad. You'll be filthy rich, the dead will obey you without question and you probably gained the power to shadow-step. Imagine," he continued, leaning in, "going anywhere you wish in a blink of an eye."

Abby did imagine, and while the ability was promising and made traveling a hundred times better, the downfalls of being a king well outweighed the benefits. "I'm ill-suited, ill-prepared. The Evernight is not my home. People will try to murder me while I sleep."

"Usually," Axion drummed his fingers on the railing, "they try to murder you while you're awake. It's more thrilling that way."

She shot him a glower. "You're not helping."

"Then know this," he turned to face her, his eyes no longer glazed but crystalline. Honest. "I've made the Evernight as secure as I can for you. Find Shadlings you can trust and--"

She gripped his arm. "What do you mean?" Her eyes scanned his face, looking for answers. His mouth twitched but he said no more. "Axion, how have you made the Evernight safe?"

He began pulling away from her but she tightened her hold and held him steadfast. "Axion..."

"I killed them." His eyes flashed black as the words leaked between his lips. "My brothers. All of them. Dead." He flashed a cold, insidious smile. "For you."

"No." She dropped her hand and took a step back. "No."

Axion reached into his pocket and took out a knife, identical to the one he'd aimed at Abby's throat though the blade was stained black. "They would have killed you if I didn't stop them. So I tracked them down, and used this." He raised the knife and chuckled. "It was easier than I thought it'd be." Something, maybe like regret, flashed in his eyes.

"Axion, I would never ask you to--"

"I know," something about his voice, about how low it'd gotten, made her heart seize, "my mother was the same way. She knew she was in danger but she never asked me to protect her, to spill blood for her. So instead, my father sliced her open, in front of me, his pathetic, worthless offspring." He pocketed the knife and returned his gaze skyward. "The Evernight has this tiny habit of squashing those who emanate light. I wanted to prevent that same fate from befalling you."

Abby's throat was dry. Her tongue heavy with a dozen words she didn't know if she was better off saying or silencing. But, taking a page from Lucy's book, she said the first thing that came to mind. "You should be its king then."

Axion whirled around, all his stars gathered on his face, "Did you not hear what I just said? I murdered my own family--"

"To keep me safe. To bring light to your kingdom. To change the way of things." Abby shrugged. "Sounds like a king to me."

His stars exploded. "You're daft."

"Perhaps," she stamped her foot, "but you should be the Shadow King."

"I'd have to kill you, you understand? The throne is only won in combat, when blood is shed. Understand now?" The words hissed through his teeth.

But Abby didn't seem bothered. She whirled on her heel. "Bloodshed," she repeated.

Axion nodded. "AKA, your death."

"But death isn't specified, correct? Just blood shed." She stopped and whirled around. "The Wizard Kellog always talks about the power of words residing in how they're said, their arrangement." She turned, smiling. "Axion, my blood is all you need. Not my life."

"What?"

"Cut me. Here," she raised her hand, palm toward him, "along the palm, nothing deep. The power will transfer to you and you can be Shadow king."

"Even if that would work, Abby--"

"It will work. You can be king and I--"

"I don't want to be king!" Axion screamed.

Abby paused and blinked. "What?"

He grabbed her wrist, the shadows convening around her in case he meant her harm. But instead, he slipped inside one, with her in tow, his voice echoing in her ears. "What you ask is selfish. Cruel and unkind."

They arrived in a room of crumbled stone and cobwebs. Clouds of black mist roiled through the air, and Abby felt like a ship caught at sea. Unprepared and afraid.

At the center of it, a black throne stuck out like a beast's fang and it sang. A horrible, screeching song that buckled Abby's knees, made her stomach lurch and tears prick her eyes.

"What's happening?"

Yanking her up by the arm, Axion dragged her forward. The screaming throne made her head feel like it was going to splinter.

"Hear that?" He snorted. "I bet you do. That's the Evernight's throne. Made of ly'ren stone." He tossed her back to the ground. "Want to know why the realm sings?" He stomped over to her, bent down and looked her in the eyes. "When we die, we turn to stone. And we leave behind a song. That's all that's left of us. A song, of our eternal torment. Our regret, our grief. Our anger. That--" he jabbed the air in front of the throne, "is made up of thousands of songs. Innumberable pain and suffering and that's what you ask of me. That's what you'd condemn me to. A lifetime of hearing that. It's enough to make anyone mad," he slunk to his knees, "and yet you so casually ask me to become the king tethered to that."

Abby grabbed his elbow. "I do."

He snorted and yanked himself free of her. "You're really selfish, you know?"

She nodded. "Selfish and cruel. Unkind. But I also believe."

"In what?"

A smile floated to her face as she rose to her feet. "In you. In life. The fact that we're here, together, still alive. Still capable of doing something."

Axion put his arms around his knees. "And what would you have us do?"

Her gaze drifted to the throne, it's song a defeaning choir of rage in her ears. "People lost their lives for it?"

"Thousands." His head hung limply as he stared at the ground. "My father even used my mother's stone for its construction. Thought it'd make for good punishment. He was right."

Abby whipped around, arm outstretched. "Let's destroy it."

"What?"

"We destroy it."

"You can't. It's part of the Evernight. Only the light can destroy what is dark."

Abby nodded, and the heat in her belly swelled. She felt the markings on her neck resurfacing. Her fingertips were already glowing. She had the power. To destroy this throne, to help Axion create a better realm. One whose song spoke of beauty, not blood and chaos.

"Dawn gives us a chance to start again, no matter what we did the night before. We get to be better, if we so choose. Axion," she turned and faced him, "Do better." And with that, she channeled all her energy, and her light rained down on the throne. It erupted into dust and the song it sang was finally silenced.

She collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

"It's done."

"Abby, I--" she grabbed a piece of throne and held it out to him. "Be the Evernight's king. I won't do it. I'll neglect this realm and its inhabitants. It'll be much better off in your hands."

Slowly, he nodded, and took up the shard. His face reflected in it as he turned it over in his palm. Abby waited, palm up. Finally, Axion slid it across her skin, her flesh slicing cleanly open, a trickle of blood running down her fingers. She winced at the pain, but was quick to wipe the unease from her face. What she had asked Axion to do, would cause him more pain than a shallow cut ever could. To cement the transfer of power, the shadows closed in around them, and knelt before Axion. 

Sneering, Axion tossed the bloodied shard to his side, then ripped his sleeve and began wrapping it around Abby's hand, his touch the warmest it'd ever been.

A bright spot among Evernight's dark.

Long live the king.