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The Eternal Night

The Eternal Night

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The Eternal Night

ratings:
4/5 (13 ratings)
Length:
110 pages
1 hour
Publisher:
Released:
Jun 14, 2019
ISBN:
9781928510062
Format:
Book

Description

Cinderella retold: Fae, vampires, shifters, and a Godmother who’ll grant you any wish—if you pay the price.


Finding herself with some unlikely allies, Elle prepares to face the man calling himself the vampire king in an enchanted land of never-ending darkness.


~ ~ ~


This is episode 4 of 6 of a SERIALIZED Cinderella retelling. It is not novel-length. Expect cliffhangers! Approximately 26,000 words or 115 print pages.


**Prefer to binge-read all the episodes together? Look for City of Wishes: The Complete Cinderella Story**


~ ~ ~


In a world of fae, vampires and shifters, where wishes can be bought and bargained for, Elle is human, bound to her stepmother by a slave charm. Her only hope at freedom is to wish for it. But the Godmother rules the illegal wish trade, and the price she demands is steep. Is Elle willing to pay it?

Publisher:
Released:
Jun 14, 2019
ISBN:
9781928510062
Format:
Book

About the author

Rachel Morgan spent a good deal of her childhood living in a fantasy land of her own making, crafting endless stories of make-believe and occasionally writing some of them down. After completing a degree in genetics and discovering she still wasn't grown-up enough for a 'real' job, she decided to return to those story worlds still spinning around her imagination. These days she spends much of her time immersed in fantasy land once more, writing fiction for young adults and those young at heart. Rachel lives in Cape Town with her husband and three miniature dachshunds. She is the author of the bestselling Creepy Hollow series, and also writes sweet contemporary romance under the name Rochelle Morgan.


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The Eternal Night - Rachel Morgan

Author

In a stylishly furnished lounge in one of Vale City’s most expensive apartments, the Godmother dropped into an armchair with a huff. She smacked her fist down on the cushioned arm of the chair. "Why can’t I find her?" she demanded, though there was no one else present to hear her question. Midnight had come and gone hours ago, and the slave girl, Elle Winter, should have returned to her attic. But she wasn’t there, and no amount of magic seemed to be able to locate her.

A small creature fluttered in through the open window. Yes? the Godmother said. The pixie zoomed closer and alighted on the arm of the chair, just in front of the Godmother’s fist. She tilted her hat—or was it half a shell?—and squeaked something. No sign of her anywhere near the house? the Godmother asked. After another few squeaks, she sighed. Well, thank you for looking. I appreciate it. In fact, if you don’t mind hanging around, I may have further use for you. What’s your name anyway? She listened as the pixie squeaked something unintelligible. I’m afraid you’ll have to repeat that. The pixie tried again, her words a fraction slower. Oh, well if you like that nickname, the Godmother said, we can go with that. Tash. Easy enough to remember.

Her phone rang, and she reached to pick it up from the side table. She tapped the screen, brought the phone to her ear, and said, Yes?

I’ve confirmed that it’s true, Godmother, said the man on the other end of the call. The vampires who invaded the ball had magic.

I suspected as much. The Godmother sighed. Well, I suppose we couldn’t expect that spell to stay a secret forever. Not while there was still a record of it out there somewhere, even if that record is incomplete. She crossed one leg over the other. "But as long as the vampires don’t perform the ritual in full, their power will never last. But if they do complete it …" She frowned. There was still the problem of the missing girl. If no magic could locate her, there was a strong possibility the vampires had her. Was it too late already?

This is becoming a mess, she muttered into the phone. I don’t like mess. Not unless I’m the one causing it. As an afterthought, she added, Did the royal family survive?

Yes.

Including the prince?

Yes.

A smile pulled at the Godmother’s glossy lips. So the slave girl failed to pay her price. Well, there’s a small bit of good news. Still, this Allegiant mess changes things. What to do, what to do … She drummed her fingers across the top of her leg, her mind flicking through all the options and the possible outcomes.

There’s something else, the man on the other end of the phone said. There was a protest at the ball. Humans campaigning against the slave charm.

The Godmother groaned. That helps absolutely no one.

I know. I think the king will use this to strengthen his case. He may finally be able to get the National Council to vote in favor of making the slave charm mandatory for all humans again.

More mess, the Godmother muttered. Well, thank you for keeping me updated. She ended the call without saying goodbye. Then she let out a long sigh and returned her attention to the pixie.

Do you know what it says in our country’s constitution, Tash? Well, in every constitution in every country in the world, if we’re going to get technical. Tash replied with a disbelieving squeak. Why, yes. I have memorized the Constitution of Astranerica, the Godmother said. I’ve been around for a very long time. Sometimes I get bored. I need to find things for my brain to do. Anyway, Tash, the part I’d like to bring your attention to is that little bit in the Bill of Rights that mentions freedom. This, my dear young pixie, is what it says. She waved her hand and gold letters appeared in the air as she spoke, matching her word for word. Every member of a magic-blooded High Race has the right to freedom.

Tash sat on the arm of the chair and leaned back on her tiny hands.

The key, of course, the Godmother said, is in the words ‘magic-blooded.’ We fae have our Essence, which lengthens our lives and allows us to do a great many fantastical things no other race can do. The vampires have a type of magic that gives them long life, speed and superior strength. And shifters have a type of magic that allows them to change their physical shape. But what do humans have? She nodded slowly as Tash replied, an amused smile curling her lips. Correct. It does appear to suck a great deal for humans. It makes you wonder why they were ever considered a High Race, doesn’t it. She steepled her fingertips and pursed her lips. Unless, like me, you know the answer.

She sat in silence for another few moments, then lifted her phone again and searched for a name she hadn’t contacted in quite some time. Raising the phone to her ear, she murmured, It’s time to move a few pieces around the game board, Tash. Would you like to stick around and observe the fun?

The morning after the most disastrous ball Belmont Palace had ever hosted, Dex found himself walking along a nondescript street in a quiet borough of Vale City with a pair of woman’s black combat boots sitting on his upturned palms. After spending several hours this morning listening to his furious father rage about vampires and humans, he’d finally managed to get away.

Sneaking out of the palace grounds without his parents’ knowledge was a skill he’d mastered years ago. It was his nanny who’d first helped him, when he was very young and had begged to explore the forest on the other side of the palace wall. He’d learned a few tricks from her, like befriending the right people on the palace staff. These days, that included the security team who monitored the back entrance near the garages where all the palace vehicles lived. The guards didn’t mind turning a blind eye as long as Dex wasn’t alone. Xander or Olly, sons of trusted noble fae families, generally accompanied him, and that always seemed to keep the guards satisfied.

Dex looked down at the shoes again as he reached the intersection of two streets. The rhinestones sparkled in the morning sun. He’d found the shoes wedged between the balusters alongside the palace front steps while searching for Elle the night before and recognized them instantly as hers. He wanted to get started immediately on a tracking spell, but his father’s guards had found him at that point, and it had been impossible to get away from them for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t until mid-morning that he’d come up with a good enough excuse to escape his father’s office.

The shoes shifted ever so slightly on Dex’s palms, pointing toward the left now. He turned that way and continued walking, Olly at his side. The two of them had parked a few streets back and left the car behind after blindly following the shoes’ directions, accidentally turning up a one-way street, and almost crashing into a taxi. Olly had convinced Dex that walking was safer, though Dex found it frustratingly slow. He’d earned himself a few odd looks, wandering around holding up a pair of shoes on his hands, but he ignored the sideways glances and raised eyebrows. Just like the truth spell he’d used on Azriel, the tracking spell wasn’t supposed to be known by anyone outside of law enforcement, so he certainly wasn’t about to explain to

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