The Guardians Chronicles

Keira stared out of the car window, not really seeing the blur of dark trees.

As strange as her childhood had been, nothing had prepared her for this, for Aunt Vic dropping the words Akasha, High Priestess, war as if they were items on a to-do list.

Resentment simmered. Thirteen years of secrets. Thirteen years of thinking she was broken, dangerous, alone, while Victoria watched from the sidelines, fully aware of what she was.

Right alongside that resentment was something like relief. Gratitude, even. She wasn’t a freak. She wasn’t alone. There were others like her. There was a name for what she did, a framework, a history.

And somewhere under all of that, a small voice whispering that she wanted her old life back.

There had been a terrible freedom in isolation. No expectations. No destiny. She could remain on the riverbank, watching other people plunge into the current, dipping a toe into humanity’s chaos when it suited her and pulling back before it dragged her under.

“We are here,” Victoria said.

Keira blinked and finally really looked.

The trees thinned, revealing a wide moat, silver in the fading light, coiling around a massive medieval wall that rose at least thirty feet high. Stone, weathered and dark, encircled the fortress like a clenched fist.

The car slowed as they rolled onto a lowered drawbridge. Its chains were thick as her waist, disappearing up into looming guard towers. They passed through huge wooden gates reinforced with iron bars and bolts, the tyres thudding softly over the threshold.

Keira glanced back through the rear window just in time to see the drawbridge begin to rise, chains rattling and groaning, and the gates swing shut with a resonant, final thud.

Victoria’s words suddenly felt very, very real. I am so far out of my league it’s not even funny, Keira thought.

The car stopped in a broad cobblestone courtyard. The driver opened Victoria’s door first. Keira slid out after her, Simone already at her side.

For a moment, she simply turned in a slow circle.

Thick stone walls surrounded the courtyard on all sides, topped with saw-toothed battlements and evenly spaced guard towers. Arrowslits, parapets, defensible angles—this place had been built by people who expected to be attacked and planned to survive it.

Even with anxiety buzzing in her veins, Keira could appreciate the stark beauty of the fortress. It was art and war woven into stone.

Simone’s low laughter drifted from a few feet away. Keira turned and saw a small group waiting near the main steps.

“You remember Marco?” Victoria asked.

“Yes.” Keira kept her expression neutral, fighting down the flicker of awareness that always seemed to wake up when he was near.

He was in Levi’s again, the denim sitting just right on his hips, a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat and sleeves rolled to reveal forearms corded with lean muscle. His skin held a deep, effortless tan that said outdoors, not spray booth.

He stepped closer, blue eyes flashing in the shadow of the courtyard. Keira automatically extended her hand. Their fingers barely brushed before she snatched hers back and tightened it around her shoulder bag instead.

“Welcome,” he said, a faint smile curving his mouth.

“Well then, let’s go inside,” Victoria said briskly.

Marco led them up the main steps. The tall front door swung inward as they approached, light glinting off an enormous brass dragon inlaid into a central panel. For a heartbeat Keira could have sworn the metal scales shifted, the sinuous body flexing, jaws yawning wider.

Then she crossed the threshold and stepped into cool dimness. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust.

They stood in a great hall. Stone floors stretched out beneath richly woven rugs in shades of amber, burgundy, and terracotta. Well-worn leather couches clustered near a vast fireplace that took up most of one wall, logs crackling in the grate. Heat rolled out, softening the chill of the stone.

High overhead, black wooden beams criss-crossed the ceiling in a web of support. Embroidered family crests hung from them like banners. Keira spotted the Wilde crest in pride of place above the fireplace.

To the left, a wide staircase swept up to the higher levels. Victoria steered her in that direction.

“The living quarters are this way, Keira,” she said. “Now, where is that little—”

“Hallo, hallo! So you did arrive. Sorry I’m late. I was out playing with the pups.”

A boy skidded to a stop beside them, a grin splitting his freckled face. Brown eyes sparkled. Black hair stuck out in every possible direction, as if he’d been in a wind tunnel, or a dog pile.

“Well, better late than never,” Victoria said, pretending to scowl. “Keira, this is Justin. One of our younger initiates and general nuisance to all.”

“Aunt Vic!” he protested, clutching his chest in mock outrage.

“There, there, no need to make such a racket,” she said, shooing him with one hand. “Take Keira’s bag to her room, then come back and give me a full report on Ylva’s pups.”

Justin brightened instantly, grabbing Keira’s overnight bag. “This way,” he said. “You can see them later. They’re brilliant.”

“Keira, freshen up and rest if you need to,” Victoria added. “We’ll meet here for dinner.”

Keira followed Justin up the staircase. As soon as they were out of earshot, Victoria turned back to Marco.

“Have any of the Council members arrived yet?” she asked.

“Only Savelli,” Marco replied. “And Mr Harigaya, the observer from Japan. The rest will be here tomorrow. Except the Moreaux representative. They’ve sent word they’re withdrawing from the Council.”

“Cowards,” Victoria said flatly. “They don’t even have the decency to say it to our faces.”

“I believe they have already chosen a side,” Marco said. “Sebastian is in France, checking. It looks likely they’ve gone to Daemon. I’ll update you when I hear more.”

“It would hardly be a surprise. They’ve been sitting on that particular fence for far too long,” Victoria said. “At least now we know where they stand.”

She fell silent, gaze going distant as she mentally adjusted columns—friends, allies, liabilities.

“Are the Draaken in place?” she asked at last.

“Yes. Perimeter wards are active. Patrols are running in shifts,” Marco said. He hesitated. “Chloe reports unusual quiet around Daemon’s compound in New York.”

“Don’t let that lull you,” Victoria said. “He is planning. He will know the Council is convening here the day after tomorrow. If his network is as good as I suspect, he already knows that Keira caused the flare in London, and that I’ve brought her here. My intentions are hardly subtle.”

She frowned. “It can’t be helped. The time for hiding her is past. War is upon us.”

“I’ve increased security,” Marco said. “Inner courtyard, walls, forests. No one gets within a mile without us knowing.”

“Good.” Victoria’s gaze lifted to the high stone walls. “He would be a fool to attack us here.”

She didn’t add what both of them were thinking. Daemon was many things. A fool was not one of them.