Destiny. Grace Goodwin

       Destiny, Cleric Fortress, Mountains Near the Capital City of Mytikas

      Back home, on Earth, they call midnight the witching hour. But here, inside the walls of the clerical order, it’s more like the chanting hour. In almost every room up and down the long hallways there is a gathering of clerics—either in training or not—chanting. They just didn’t shut up. And when they did, the meditating started. Clerics stayed up late, their bodies somehow becoming in tune to the shimmering glow of moonlight on the Aleran flowers that grew outside the citadel. It was all very communal and hippie-like. Irritating as all hell for those of us who didn’t do very much communing in life. They had more patience in a pinky finger than I did in my entire body.

      But since Faith had announced herself to the world, there had been less chanting and more gossiping, and that was just what I’d hoped for. A bunch of introverts finally letting it all out. Discussing the miraculous return of the royal princesses Trinity and Faith, and speculating about the third newly lit spire and the location of their queen.

      What was actually bonkers was that the third princess they were all gabbing about was me. If I were caught right now, I’d be in their dungeon before I was given a chance to explain. Or dead. It was possible they’d just kill me on sight.

      Breaking into the elder cleric’s office was strictly forbidden.

      I’d heard—again from all that pent-up gossip—that a few hundreds years ago, the offense was punishable by death. Since no one had been caught since, I had no way of knowing whether they’d updated their policy or if no one had ever tried.

      “Guess I’ll just have to be very, very careful.” I whispered the words to no one in particular as I clung to the vines that grew along the tallest tower within the fortress walls. I was like Romeo seeking his Juliet in the high school play.

      Glancing left and right to make sure no one saw me… or for maybe one last moment before I did something execution-worthy, I opened a window and pulled myself up, slung my leg, then knee, then the rest of me, through the opening. The office was at least three stories off the ground, but the vines were thick, and I was small. They almost made it too easy.

      I landed with barely a sound on the thin carpeting and noticed the room was still nice and warm. The old woman who ran the show had old bones, and she did not like the cold up here in the mountains that surrounded the royal city. But then, with the fortress built eons ago, she didn’t have much of a choice but to deal with the weather. The clerical order had formed when the royal bloodline did. The first queen recognized by the citadel had accepted the oath of the first cleric, and so it had begun. Generation after generation, the clerics had served Alera in the matters of law and protection for the realm. They were the scribes and record keepers, and trusted with knowledge known only to a few. Both the clerical order and the royal bloodline were linked to the citadel somehow, but each chose to keep their secrets. The clerics had served the royal family—my family—for millennia.

      “Bunch of fucking traitors.” Not all of them were bad. I’d been training with them, eating with them, pretending to be one of them for two weeks now. I was a novice. A new initiate. And they’d welcomed me into the fold. Most of them were good, solid people. Kind. Friendly. Supportive.

      But not all of them. No, someone—or someones—within was rotten to the core. Yeah, there was a really bad apple spoiling the whole dang bunch. And I would hunt down the traitors if I died doing it. They still had Mom. They’d tried to kill Trinity and my twin, Faith, more than once.

      If they knew who I was, no doubt they’d try to kill me as well. It was obvious we were wanted dead. I grinned, thinking our arrival on Alera must have totally fucked up their plans. Ha!

      Moving forward swiftly in the dark, I stubbed my toe on an unexpected outcropping from a chair. I hissed and hopped about. “Damn it.” The words were barely more than a grunt, but I heard something move in answer outside. Below me. On the ground.

      Then a rustling.

      The vines.

       Oh, shit.

      Someone was climbing the vines. Romeo, himself, this time? I was no Juliet waiting to be whisked away. And fuck it all, they were moving even faster than I had. I didn’t have time to go anywhere, and the room’s door—which normal people used to come in—would be solidly locked. I had to hide and hope whoever was coming would lead me to another clue about my mother. I knew the clerics had her. Somewhere. The rumor mill was buzzing with whispers and speculation about a very top-secret prisoner. It had to be Mom, or to Alerans, Queen Celene. It just had to be.

      Because if it weren’t, I’d run into a dead end and we were all screwed. Mom would die. And I just couldn’t live with myself if that happened.

      Hobbling on my aching toe, I dashed to a corner so dark with shadows it looked black. There I stood, immobile, and waited to see who my unexpected visitor might be. What were the chances of there being two snooping initiates?

      The waiting was an agony all its own. I was in tune with my body, keeping my breathing quiet, to try and still my racing heart—yeah, right—and stand as still as possible. The Aleran half of my DNA had decided last week that it was a good time to go into full-blown Ardor. I knew what it was because Trinity’d had it when we’d arrived. Every inch of my skin was sensitive. My nipples ached, the lobes of my breasts felt too full and heavy. They were small, which suited me just fine for fighting. But they felt double their normal size. My pussy was constantly wet and my hearing seemed to have kicked up into some kind of superpower level annoying. Like I was the Bionic Woman all of a sudden. The horny Bionic Woman.

      I could hear insects crawling in the walls. Conversations all over the fortress; that was why I knew every bit of gossip that had been circling about. My own heartbeat had sounded like a conga drum inside my head until I’d learned how to ignore it and somehow, that had helped me figure out how to pay attention to what I was hearing when I wanted to, and feel somewhat normal the rest of the time.

      Trinity hadn’t mentioned super-hearing as being part of her Ardor, but she’d been pretty distracted with Leo, as in naked and having screaming orgasms. Stupid Ardor, screwing with me. It was as if I had no control over my own body any longer. And I wasn’t getting off. Damn it.

      I was so horny I was close to coming by just rubbing my thighs together. And I heard everything that went on in the place. Everything. Including a few rather sexy encounters that had me squirming and wishing taking care of things myself would actually work. But no. Every orgasm I gave myself just made it worse. I’d quit after two and curled into a ball for a few