Page 23 of Of Shadow and Moon

As I opened the book, words leapt off the page, carrying with them secrets of a world I could hardly conceptualize. Iread about the origin of Tonalli, when gods and mortals walked together, where magic flowed freely, and power was not a tool of manipulation. They told stories of Mictlantecuhtli, the god of the underworld, and of Coyolxauhqui, the goddess of the moon in whose silver brightness the world was bathed. United in their ruling, they were lovers until the wars that shattered their fate and broke the realm into the fractured kingdoms we know today. Mictlantechuhtli was married to another and left her for Coyolxauhqui, which is what caused the divide among the gods.

My fingers trail over the spines of the nearest books, the leather cool and smooth under my touch, each volume humming with a quiet energy that seeps into my skin, electrifying my veins.

I move deeper into the library, seeking a quiet alcove where I can lose myself in this sanctuary of knowledge. As I settle into a worn leather armchair, the weight of a book resting on my lap, I release a long breath and feel the tension leave my shoulders.

I crack open the book in my hands. The pages crackling with age, I dive into the words, letting them wrap around me like a cloak.

“Interesting choice,” a low, gravelly voice says, breaking the silence. The tone is rich, laced with something dark and dangerous. I snap my head up, fingers tightening instinctively around the heavy book in my lap.

Tomas.

The vampire prince from Itzcalli.

Tomas is all light and charm, an infuriating mix of arrogance and ease. His silver hair falls in careless curls around his face, catching the light in a way that seems almost unfair, each strand gleaming like precious metal. He moves with a fluidity that borders on feline, all leanmuscles and poised, confident strides, as though he owns every room he enters.

Beneath his flirtatious smirk and casual gestures, there’s a spark of something sharper, a glimmer that betrays the predator lurking just below his easy demeanor. He’s a prince, after all, a vampire who could remind everyone exactly what that means. And yet, he wields his charm like a shield, using humor to soften his edges and distract from the darkness that even he can’t hide. He reminds me of a wolf wearing the mask of a golden retriever, charming, playful, but with teeth that could tear you apart if you’re not careful.

He’s leaning casually against the nearest bookshelf, his arms crossed, a smirk curling at his lips. His red eyes gleam with curiosity, or maybe mischief, as they travel from my face to the book in my hands. “Magia Extinta.” He reads, almost lazily, his voice rolling over the words like he’s savoring them.

“Um, yes?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to sound nonchalant, though every nerve in my body is humming.

A hint of amusement in his expression as he uncrosses his arms and steps closer. “You’re reading about extinct magic from a thousand page book. Not exactly light reading.” His gaze lifts to meet mine, a flash of something like recognition in his eyes. “Then again, I suppose that suits you.”

My pulse quickens, though I’d rather die than let him know it, so I force it to slow. “Can I help you?” I manage, keeping my tone even, but I can’t resist adding a hint of annoyance. The last thing I need is to be caught up in another prince’s sight.

He tilts his head, a gleam of intrigue in his gaze. “Youare the talk of the academy, Selestina,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I tense. Well, I wasn’t exactly wanting my name spread that quickly, but okay, whatever. “Okay? And?” I keep my voice sharp.

His smirk widens, his fangs just barely peeking out in a way that sends a strange thrill through me. “Everybody can’t help but talk about the student who came out of the Dark Forest, looking worse for wear,” he drawls, his gaze flicking over me, lingering on the bruises and scars that are still fresh. “You’re hard to miss.”

“People have too much time on their hands.” I roll my eyes, folding my arms, pretending like his intense stare isn’t making my skin tingle. “Is there something else you need? Instead of stalking me to the library?”

His laugh is low, dark, and sends a ripple of something warm and unsettling down my spine. “Stalking?” He steps closer, until he’s looming just over me, close enough that I can catch the smallest hint of smoke and iron. “Only the interesting ones.” His voice drops to a whisper, each word dripping with that dangerous charm.

“Interesting?” I scoff, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest. “I’ve literally never talked to you. You can’t possibly find me interesting.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Well…” His gaze travels back to the book, his lips quirking into that devilish smirk again. “You’re in here, alone, reading a book about magic no one has probably touched in centuries. I find that… curious. So yes, princesa,interesting.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes again at the nickname, though I can feel my face heating under his relentless scrutiny. “And I find it curious that a prince has nothing better to do than talk to somenobody.”

“A nobody? Who are you trying to fool?” He chuckles, looking me over again, slowly, his eyes a molten red that makes my skin prickle. “Maybe I just like solving puzzles, and you are quite the puzzle.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be solved.”

“Is that so?” He quirks an eyebrow, taking a slow step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because I think, deep down, you’re dying for someone to figure you out.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re a cocky bastard, who is entirely wrong.”

His grin widens, his fangs glinting in the low light. His voice drops to a low, seductive purr. “Tell me, whyareyou reading about extinct magic, anyway? Planning to bring back the dead or something?”

“Maybe.” I raise my eyebrow in defiance.

Tomas saunters over, sliding into the chair across from me with a casual grace that’s infuriating. He crosses one long leg over the other, resting his hands in his lap as if he's settling in for his own private show. The corners of his mouth tug into a knowing smile that makes me wonder if he's enjoying this far more than he should. Then, without warning, he scoots his chair closer, the sound of wood scraping against the library’s polished floors shattering the quiet and earning a few annoyed glances from the various students and librarians milling about.

“So, where are you from, princesa?” His voice is low, smooth, with an edge that makes the word “princesa” feel like both a compliment and an insult.

He leans in, and his face is close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in his red eyes. The intensity behind them flares—dark, enigmatic, and unreadable. Something coils in my stomach, thrilling and unnerving at once. “I can usually tell which kingdom everyone is from,” he murmurs,his eyes narrowing with that hungry, assessing gleam. “But I can't quite place you. Your accent is hard to place.”

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