“So you’re her... the cursed Luna. The one with the mark.”

Lucy blinked twice, trying to process where she was, who had spoken, and—most bizarre of all—why the hell Veronica was sitting on a throne, beside the man speaking, like a queen beside her king who was also seated on a throne.

Perhaps it was one of those weird dreams.

Lucy’s knees dug into cold marble. She was kneeling. Why was she kneeling? And why could she feel her knees burning like it was real?

What the hell was going on?

Her head throbbed. The last thing she remembered was walking down an alley, hoodie pulled tight over her head,...