PROLOGUE
Her long hair, dark with auburn streaks, falls down her back as she twirls in his arms. Her full gown—blue silk and satin trimmed in white fur and studded with sapphires, diamonds, and intricate silver thread—spins around her. Her eyes, as blue as her dress, are full of love and laughter as she looks up at him. She is angelic. Pure.
Andriy Zorin smiles down at his new bride, his heart full of heady emotion. "You are mine, dear wife."
Her smile is dazzling. "And you are mine."
Water from a nearby fountain splashes as it feeds into a small pond filled with exotic fish. Danika holds her husband's hand. "We should return to our guests, should we not?"
Zorin leans in to kiss her lips. "They can wait. We have a marriage to consummate."
She laughs and pulls away. "I do not think this is the place for that, lovely as it is."
This villa had belonged to Zorin for many years, but he hadn't spent much time in it. Now it felt like home. With Danika, it was home. They had excused themselves from their elaborate wedding reception to catch a quiet moment together in the private indoor courtyard adjacent to their bedroom suite. Zorin does not fancy returning to the many people who want to steal his attention from the woman before him, so he pulls her closer. "Our bedchamber is but a short distance away."
She laughs again, spinning out of his arms in another twirl.
Time stops.
Silence.
Blood.
He sees it in her eyes first. They are full of life in one moment, empty the next.
Vacant.
An empty vessel.
Her body takes a moment to catch up. To realize what has happened.
Zorin is fast, but not fast enough. For his mind also requires a moment to make sense of what is happening.
She falls into the pond, her beautiful dress spreading around her.
The thud of her skull against the stone is loud. It breaks the silence. It is all Zorin can hear.
Blood stains the water around her head like a macabre halo.
He reaches for her, cradling her lifeless body against his. Her human fragility against his immortal strength.
His voice carries through the halls and through the town, so loud is his grief and anguish.
"Danika! Danika!"
CHAPTER 1
Zorin remembers New York before it was New York. Before it was a kingdom of the Four Orders. Before the tall buildings. Before Eden Architecture and Landscaping swept through the streets and turned them into this bewitching blend of old and new. Of nature mating with science to give birth to living landscapes and skyscrapers created from earth and stone and trees. But even before all that. He remembers.
He remembers the Old World, so named back when this world was new. He remembers Broadway before it was Broadway. As his footsteps fall heavy in the unusually quiet night, he locks his dreams up in a corner of his mind and thinks about a different part of his past. One where Danika isn't dead.
One where he flies with her to see the world. One where they walked this street when it was an old footpath of the Lenape Indians in the early 1500s. Before Europe seized hold of the world.
Back then this magical street full of Fairy Trees glowing with their ripe fruit was a dirt path trodden by moccasins. He brought Danika here once, from their villa in Italy across the seas into a land of savages. But they weren't savages. They became friends with the natives. Danika and Zorin, both revered for their powers, rather than scorned.
But that was many lifetimes ago.
The Lenape people are all dead and gone.
Like that version of New York. And the one after it.
Like Danika Star.
But he's still here. He'll always be here.
Around him the Fairy Fruit glows in bright pinks, oranges, greens, blues and reds, the ripe hanging heavy on the green branches. The eScreens above him light up with news, advertisements and messages from the Pope and the Four Orders. Inquisition Guards are dispersed in pairs, monitoring the streets, looking for rebels or Zeniths abusing their
Her long hair, dark with auburn streaks, falls down her back as she twirls in his arms. Her full gown—blue silk and satin trimmed in white fur and studded with sapphires, diamonds, and intricate silver thread—spins around her. Her eyes, as blue as her dress, are full of love and laughter as she looks up at him. She is angelic. Pure.
Andriy Zorin smiles down at his new bride, his heart full of heady emotion. "You are mine, dear wife."
Her smile is dazzling. "And you are mine."
Water from a nearby fountain splashes as it feeds into a small pond filled with exotic fish. Danika holds her husband's hand. "We should return to our guests, should we not?"
Zorin leans in to kiss her lips. "They can wait. We have a marriage to consummate."
She laughs and pulls away. "I do not think this is the place for that, lovely as it is."
This villa had belonged to Zorin for many years, but he hadn't spent much time in it. Now it felt like home. With Danika, it was home. They had excused themselves from their elaborate wedding reception to catch a quiet moment together in the private indoor courtyard adjacent to their bedroom suite. Zorin does not fancy returning to the many people who want to steal his attention from the woman before him, so he pulls her closer. "Our bedchamber is but a short distance away."
She laughs again, spinning out of his arms in another twirl.
Time stops.
Silence.
Blood.
He sees it in her eyes first. They are full of life in one moment, empty the next.
Vacant.
An empty vessel.
Her body takes a moment to catch up. To realize what has happened.
Zorin is fast, but not fast enough. For his mind also requires a moment to make sense of what is happening.
She falls into the pond, her beautiful dress spreading around her.
The thud of her skull against the stone is loud. It breaks the silence. It is all Zorin can hear.
Blood stains the water around her head like a macabre halo.
He reaches for her, cradling her lifeless body against his. Her human fragility against his immortal strength.
His voice carries through the halls and through the town, so loud is his grief and anguish.
"Danika! Danika!"
CHAPTER 1
Zorin remembers New York before it was New York. Before it was a kingdom of the Four Orders. Before the tall buildings. Before Eden Architecture and Landscaping swept through the streets and turned them into this bewitching blend of old and new. Of nature mating with science to give birth to living landscapes and skyscrapers created from earth and stone and trees. But even before all that. He remembers.
He remembers the Old World, so named back when this world was new. He remembers Broadway before it was Broadway. As his footsteps fall heavy in the unusually quiet night, he locks his dreams up in a corner of his mind and thinks about a different part of his past. One where Danika isn't dead.
One where he flies with her to see the world. One where they walked this street when it was an old footpath of the Lenape Indians in the early 1500s. Before Europe seized hold of the world.
Back then this magical street full of Fairy Trees glowing with their ripe fruit was a dirt path trodden by moccasins. He brought Danika here once, from their villa in Italy across the seas into a land of savages. But they weren't savages. They became friends with the natives. Danika and Zorin, both revered for their powers, rather than scorned.
But that was many lifetimes ago.
The Lenape people are all dead and gone.
Like that version of New York. And the one after it.
Like Danika Star.
But he's still here. He'll always be here.
Around him the Fairy Fruit glows in bright pinks, oranges, greens, blues and reds, the ripe hanging heavy on the green branches. The eScreens above him light up with news, advertisements and messages from the Pope and the Four Orders. Inquisition Guards are dispersed in pairs, monitoring the streets, looking for rebels or Zeniths abusing their
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