Twilight covenant, p.1
Twilight Covenant, page 1
Twilight Covenant
Whitney Hill
This is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, people, or places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
TWILIGHT COVENANT
Copyright © 2024 by Whitney Hill
All rights reserved. This book is for your personal use only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Thank you for supporting the author by purchasing this book.
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ISBN (ebook): 979-8-9906781-0-1
ISBN (pbook): 979-8-9906781-1-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2024910759
Cover Designer: Pintado (99Designs)
Editor: Jeni Chappelle (Jeni Chappelle Editorial)
Contents
Content Warnings
Dedication
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
Want more?
Acknowledgments
Also by Whitney Hill
About the Author
Content Warnings
This book contains military attacks by and against a government, severe environmental and home destruction, simulated interrogation, medical experimentation, strong physical violence and gore, on-page death, discussions of mental health crises, family estrangement, swearing, slurs (not toward any real racial or ethnic group/identity), alcohol use, knife and gun violence including death by suicide, threat of sexual violence, mention of past abuse by a guardian, blood-drinking, and consensual on-page sex scenes.
For everyone who has followed this journey to the end, and for everyone who is willing to fight for the underdog.
Chapter 1
I tried to remember what it felt like for my soul not to hurt.
Troy’s arm tightened around my shoulder as we glared at the laptop on my coffee table, open to a conservative news channel where Sixtus Ead had just landed a job as a commentator. We both knew we had better things to do than watch it.
Both of us also knew we didn’t dare rely on second- or third-hand information for this. Not when Troy and Sixtus had nearly come to blood at the elven summit in Chesapeake over Sixtus’s part in an assassination attempt on both of us.
Definitely not when we’d severed the asshole from Aether for that same action. Or when the topic he was spewing hateful anti-Otherside comments on was the mundane protests, which were escalating into violence in cities worldwide after a month of simmering, despite coordinated elven efforts to suppress or misdirect them. There had been all-out battles with the Sons of Seth or the police in several cities, with the National Guard deployed in a few cases here in the US—only to pro-Otherside counter-protests, of course—and property damage. My getting magic back had either proven to Othersiders that I was fit to lead and listen to or given Otherside enough of a distraction that they didn’t care about the situation with the mundanes except as easy prey in the chaos.
Somehow, blessedly, nobody was dead. Yet.
“What you need to understand about Otherside,” Sixtus was saying, “is that most of them are backward cowards adhering to an agreement that’s centuries old. It gives them an excuse not to integrate fully with humanity, and that’s dangerous for all of us.”
Troy growled, the sound coming from low enough in his chest that I could tell he was genuinely pissed even with the control he was exerting over himself. “Tread carefully, Sixtus. The American mundanes like their centuries-old governing documents. Especially the one that lets them shoot people. Even I know that.”
The part that irritated me was the suggestion that we didn’t want to integrate with humanity. It was a direct contradiction of both fact and one of my talking points. We were already woven into the fabric of their societies.
Regardless of how important this was, I didn’t have the energy to do more than snuggle closer to Troy on the new, much bigger couch we’d gotten for his birthday, trying to ground both him and myself. A month after restoring the spark of magic to Otherside in a grueling set of trials, I was still recovering from the mental, emotional, physical, and magical toll. The vitriol that’d come out just in the last couple weeks worsened it, making me sick, tired, and down at a time when I needed good spirits. That was the point—an infowar move by the Bureau for Supernatural Investigation—and I was annoyed that it was getting to me.
We might have gotten magic back, but that’d only accomplished a hard reset and an uncertain truce in Otherside as multiple parties in territories and demesnes across the country, and even a few around the world, considered my proposal to expand the alliance currently governing the factions within the Triangle and uniting the Carolinas and Dominion demesnes. They were moving faster than usual with the current mundane situation but still not fast enough. At least with the water fae Mami Wata on board and the new queens of the Charleston Conclave too scared to rebel, I finally had full control of the Carolinas for the first time since I’d ascended. Otherside was just one piece in my messy puzzle though.
A still-healing Harqil was shuttling between the Solari mansion and the bar, their exposed wings a potential problem that they refused to have their movement limited by. Cyrus, now back in captivity, was more of an enigma than ever even as the Sight told me there was a big secret yet to be revealed with him. I also still had to deal with a series of criminal charges—and threats—leveled by various powers in the US federal government. Powers that were undoubtedly being supported by the severed Eads now.
All magical action had a price.
Troy glanced down, the tilt of his head bumping his chin against my temple. “This isn’t your fault. Any of it.”
“If I hadn’t severed Sixtus—”
“He still would have been collaborating with the Bureau for Supernatural Investigation, only with magic to make himself more convincing. The Eads lean toward auratic Aether.” Troy shifted to kiss my forehead. “You didn’t have a better option. Besides, this is a good thing, my love.”
Startled, I pulled away. “Excuse me? He’s getting on national fucking TV as a—a professional asshole!”
A smile flickered as Troy brushed a curl off my face. “Exactly. Where we can all hear what he’s saying publicly. Which lets us extrapolate what he’s saying and doing privately, as well as craft and refine our own talking points.”
I hated it. I didn’t want to play the political game Troy engaged in so naturally. I wanted people to see that Othersiders were people too and to stop fucking with us so I could get enough breathing room to feel safe.
I wanted a family with Troy, and for that, I needed my stress hormones to drop long enough for me to cycle into fertility. That only happened every few years in the best of times, and I hadn’t cycled in over a decade.
Troy’s expression turned serious as he caught the direction of my thoughts. “You don’t owe me a family. Now or on any timeline.”
“I know that. Stop reading my mind.” I slouched and crossed my arms, feeling sullen and annoyed even if it wasn’t his fault.
“Bond’s wide open.”
With a huff, I threw myself across his lap and buried my face against his belly, not bothering to close the bond if only so he’d know my irritation wasn’t his fault. He just rubbed my back and loosened his grip on his passive power, the one that made everyone but the fae feel at ease in his presence. In the background, Sixtus continued disparaging Otherside like he hadn’t been captain of the guard for a High House just over two months ago. Or maybe because he had been captain of a High House and was now a magicless pariah.
Despite my mood and the seriousness of the broadcast, I dozed. With the increase in mundane threats, we’d started practicing what to do if I was bronze-cuffed. Last night had been a long, heavy session, but that wasn’t the only reason I was tired.
I’d been feeling strange lately, especially since the last eclipse a couple of weeks ago. Like the threshold Troy had said Harqil claimed I’d crossed wanted to put me in a cocoon. It worried me. I was used to pushing hard and rec
Troy just said to listen to my body and held me when I crashed or sat next to me while he worked. Probably as much to monitor my physical state as to keep me company.
All magic had a price, and I was paying big time for yet another leap in my power.
My state should have worried Troy though.
That thought roused me. “Why aren’t you more bothered by me being like this?”
Confusion filtered through the bond. “Like what?”
“Tired. Hungry. Grumpy.”
“Oh. Well…I was old enough to remember what it was like for my mom when she fell pregnant with Evangeline, but I assume we’d both know if you’d cycled. So you’re not pregnant. Which means this just looks like elven magical puberty.”
My brain blanked and I forced myself to sit up so I wasn’t continuing to address his stomach. “Excuse me?”
Troy’s expression was as confused as the bond. “You lean elven on most physical reactions. Did you not go through this when you were younger?”
“No.” I frowned, thinking back. “Maybe? I just…was always tired. But one day I didn’t have magic, and then not long after Duke found me, I did.” That had been a hell of a surprise. I’d been sitting outside the bar watching a wind chime, sad that there wasn’t enough of a breeze for it to tinkle. Wishing…wishing…and then with a wrench, a small gale had blown from me and knocked it off its hook. Callista had been livid that I’d done it without permission and where someone could see, as if it was somehow my fault when I hadn’t even known I was capable of such a thing.
“You were what, seven years old when he took you to Callista?” Troy asked.
I nodded.
“Earlier than elves then. But I imagine the shit diet she had you on contributed to the tiredness. You were technically severely malnourished until recently. That’d impact magical development as well.”
“Malnourished and hiding my power,” I murmured as pieces came together. “With nobody to compare to, and Callista constantly calling me lazy. Pushing me to do more physically no matter how tired I was.”
Fury flashed in the bond, as it always did when I mentioned something new about my upbringing under Callista, even as Troy’s caress on my cheek was gentle. “We see this same process with half-elves born to human women, when they’re unaware the father is an elf and we don’t track down the child in time. It’s unfortunate but normal.”
“So how do I fix it?”
“You rest,” Troy said firmly. “You eat a lot of red meat, as rare as you can stomach it. And you do a little magic every day, even if it makes you more tired for a bit.” He shrugged. “Like you have been.”
I gritted my teeth to stop from arguing with him. He was saying all I needed was time and if there was something I never seemed to have enough of, it was time.
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s usually only intense for a few weeks. And you seem to have done it backwards. Power jump and then crash into adjustment, rather than adjustment to prepare for the power jump.” He shrugged again. “Or maybe that’s normal for trueborn elementals. Or for primordials in particular. Regardless, I’m not sensing anything off in you like I do when you’re hurt. Ride it out, cariñamí.”
None of that answered why I hadn’t experienced this when I grew into my primordial powers. Or maybe I had, and had just pushed through. I remembered being exhausted the whole time leading up to the Wild Hunt, and even more so after, but had assumed it was everything else going on. I also hadn’t had Troy around as a live-in partner to keep me grounded and focused on taking care of myself. If it wasn’t that, then maybe it was that growing into my maenad magic and Dreamwalking at the same time were a step beyond even primordial magic. Harqil kept hinting that I’d eventually become more, maybe even a celestial.
Cyrus kept taunting that I’d destroy everything, at least according to the updates Etain sent over. Updates that had Troy increasingly riled. We’d have to deal with the man sooner rather than later, if only so Troy could focus, but I needed the whole mess to wait until I’d handled the Goddess-damned mundanes.
Before I could say that I didn’t have time for magical adjustments, my phone rang to make the point for me.
“Hi, Maria,” I answered, trying to keep my current frustration from my voice.
“Hello, poppet. I trust you’re keeping well?”
I frowned. Maria wasn’t much of one for pleasantries unless she was flirting—or needed something but was trying honey before vinegar.
She had Allegra to flirt with these days.
“What’s happened now?” I asked flatly.
“Who said—”
“Maria.” I paused and did my best to wrangle my mood and my tone. “Sorry. What can I do for you?”
The vampire sighed, a clue that she was truly agitated, given she didn’t really need to breathe except to speak. “Could you help me understand why there is a triad of unauthorized out-of-state elves in my bar?”
From the background, Allegra’s voice hollered, “Tell her they smell West Coast.”
Troy went rigid then reached to shut the laptop, cutting off the guest response to Sixtus’s tirade.
I raised my eyebrows and tapped to put the phone on speaker.
“Which West Coast, Alli?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Cilantro and basil, maybe? Actually, come to think of it they smell like—” she hesitated. “Um. Kind of like that guy from the thing last summer. Haroun was here so I sent him to see if he can figure out what’s going on.”
“Pull him back,” Troy snapped. “That’s Northwest Mountains realm, likely the Rainier demesne. You approach as princess and order them to the Solari house. Order them, and now, Allegra. Firmly, with my full authority as King.”
I stiffened as much for the snap in his tone as for placing the reason he’d be so concerned about that particular region.
Seattle. And the shit he’d done there.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, praying I hadn’t gotten magic back only for it to be used against us. That, and I was tired all over again.
Right when I needed a minute to breathe before plunging back into mundane politics, the US West Coast Othersiders were deciding to enter the chat—and trying to test me, Troy, or both of us, for them to sneak in unannounced and turn up at my vampire ally’s nest.
I mean, after sending assassins that is. We’d gotten lucky that Cade and Lya were more inclined to join us and then lay low at one of the conclave safehouses in Chapel Hill while Cade caught up on missed feeds and took advantage of an opportunity to rebuild local connections.
We were gonna have to crack down. Hard.
“Maria,” Troy continued, “You have my formal apology for the lapse. I would ask you to withhold collecting the forfeit for trespassing until I’ve had a chance to assess the situation.”
“Since you’re being diplomatic and taking action, all’s forgiven, sugarpuff.” Her tone hardened. “This time, at least. We have a lot of through-traffic from other coteries right now. It’s not a good look if elves are off-limits for a feed when they should be fair game.”
“Understood.” Troy shifted, and I scooted off his lap so he could rise. “Allegra?”
“She’s gone,” Maria said.
“Doing as she’s told for once,” Troy grumbled. “Good. Do I have your permission to send an escort of high-bloods to Raleigh?”
Maria hummed. “This once. In the interest of keeping all our plans running smoothly.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch with updates.”
“See that you are. Bye now.”
I ended the call and blew out a breath, trying to find the energy for this.
“I can handle it,” Troy said, eyeing me.
I started to answer with a reflexive insistence that I be involved then sat a minute. “What message does that send? You going alone.”
He grinned, pleased with me for thinking politically or listening to the tiredness still dragging at me or both, then sobered. “Depends on their inclination. Technically it simply means I’m directly in charge of the Chapel Hill territory. It could be received as anything from an insult to ‘proof’ that you’re afraid to face them though. Or don’t trust me to protect you properly.”
