Soren

Moonrise has officially descended into hell.

I can readily admit I’m not one for crowds. I like being alone. I enjoy peace and quiet. I dislike being pushed and shoved, and I sure as hell hate seeing every street swarmed with people, most of them sloppy drunk after a day of festivities, all of them clamoring for a view of the woman who just appeared on the wide, regal balcony of white marble overlooking the city center.

Giant screens project close up shots of Maeve as she walks into view, her face set in an expression so sharp it pierces right through my chest, which warms with pride.

Patton’s...