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Steve Pemberton

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“My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out. James. “What,” I answer, annoyed. I don’t want his voice on the phone, I want it in my ear. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you dance?” A hand comes around my waist and I grab the wrist, twist it, then turn to find myself right up against James, and everything is right again. I lean against him, tip my face toward him. “Oh, hi,” I say. “Oh, ouch,” he says.”

“Sorrow slid suddenly through her as she remembered. Sorrow for what she'd lost. Sorrow for what she had not yet found. Sorrow for the boy she'd loved, who'd become a thrall for a woman who did not love him. Sorrow for her brave, brazen friend, who'd thrown herself toward an uncertain, violent fate. Sorrow for her mirror sister-her shadow twin-who she'd thought was brightness incarnate but who'd made herself into something much darker. Sorrow for broken kingdoms and stolen Gates and memories lost and not yet found. But then she looked up. Pulled the man she loved down for a lingering kiss. More than a kiss-a covenant. Tomorrow they could grieve. Tomorrow they could plan. Tomorrow they could go to war. Tomorrow was more than either of them had ever hoped for. "Good morning," she said. A slow smile curved his lush, plush lips. "Good morning, colleen." And she knew-this was where her story ended. This was where her story began.”