Prologue: Leia (17 years ago)

On the day of my daughter's birth, time stops, and an invisible veil cloaks the town of Frost. Rows and rows of underworld beings, known as the Dark Children of the Forest, gather and line up to take her away from me. Neither my father nor husband can do much to protect her, as after all, this is all my fault, and we are bound by a pact that I didn't fulfill.

“She is just a baby!” I cry, clutching her close to my chest. She keeps on crying, too, as if she already knows the horrible fate that awaits her. Her wails echo throughout the hospital, reaching no one but us—the Children of the Forest.

“Darling, if you hadn’t been so selfish, then you wouldn’t have your precious little daughter as an exchange for you,” a young demon says, stepping forward from the ranks of the evil armies that have invaded the town hospital. He has coal-black wings and irises as dark and threatening as his wings. I recognize him as the right hand of the Dark King, the Commander amongst the Dark Children of the Forest.

“Please, maybe we can do something,” my father says.

“If you had done your job as a father and disciplined your slut of a daughter, then this wouldn’t be happening. You cannot bend the rules of the Forest just because you’re the king of your sweet little lot,” he snaps. “Give her to us if you don’t want any bloodshed with the mortals in this place.”

My father grits his teeth, fuming, and I subtly shake my head to warn him not to do anything.

“Please, not today. My wife is still in pain from giving birth. Please don’t do this today,” Gareth says, standing between the hospital bed where I lie and the young demon.

“The audacity of you, Watcher. We trusted you with our lot. We followed the rules of the mortals for centuries, and you’ve done this to us? We never harmed your women and children and only attacked those we were allowed to attack, even if other bloods sang to us. And who is breaking the rules now, Watcher?” The young demon spits on the floor. “You get what was ours, and we will take back what is ours. You can keep your wife, for all we care. Your daughter is now ours.”

Aunt May, Gareth’s grandaunt, who is standing beside me, speaks. “Please, for the sake of old times, let us have the child for a little while. One week, at least. I’ll give you the authority over the Watcher’s House in return.”

“Aunt May!” Gareth spins around, bewildered. “You cannot do that.” 

“I can and I will,” Aunt May seethes. “Do you care more about that House’s legacy now than your daughter?”

Gareth stops speaking.

The young demon seems pleased with the suggestion. “We’ve wanted that House for so long, but do you think you can trick us?” 

“No. No tricks.” Aunt May shakes her head.

The young demon raises his eyebrow. “Three days, then, not one week,” he says. “Three days, then we will come back, and we will take the new princess and the House. Avoid any trickery if you do not want to start a war.”

“Yes. We understand,” Aunt May says.

The young demon takes a step forward to me. 

“What are you doing?” Gareth blocks his way.

“We do not trust any of the Watchers’ words anymore. Even the Watchers’ witch.” The young demon glances quickly to May, then back to Gareth. “Surely it will not hurt if we make a claim on her today since she is ours by right, lest you lot trick us again and run away with our princess.” The young demon looks at each one of us, his eyes challenging us to react, and his hand is poised on the hilt of the sword sheathed on his hip. 

When none of us move, and only my daughter’s wails can be heard, he strides to the side of my bed, pushing Gareth away. I squirm and try to cover my daughter with my arms and body, but the young demon shoves me back and pins me down. All this time, my daughter is still wailing and bawling in my arms. The young demon ignores her cries. He dips his head, his lips brushing my baby’s forehead for a moment, and then his mouth starts to move, whispering an incantation that’s barely audible. A circular, golden mark appears on her forehead, then vanishes quickly as it appears. 

She stops crying for the first time and stares curiously at the eyes of the young demon, her little hands reaching for his face.

The young demon reaches for her hand in return. “Sleep,” he whispers to her.

She coos, smiles, and yawns, her eyes closing from the sudden drowsiness. The young demon looks amused. He cocks his head—observing her for a little while until she falls asleep—before he motions for his armies to retreat.

“We will be back.” 

The young demon and his armies are gone in an instant. The veil begins to lift, and the quiet hospital beeps again with noise. The whines of the patients and shouts from the doctors return—the mortals of Frost awakening from the spell—while my daughter slumbers peacefully, unaware of what the future holds for her.

...* * *...

“Take a rest,” Gareth whispers. He tries to take the baby away from me, but I will not let him. I will not let her go even for a moment. I know he just wants me to sleep, but how can I? How can I, when I know my baby will be taken away from me? How can I, when I know all of this is my fault? How can I even sleep after all this? 

Gareth stands beside me patiently until I look up at him. His face is etched with pain, pity, and understanding. At that moment, I know he’s having as hard a time as I am.

“I will just be outside,” he says, leaning to kiss my head. The others have already stepped out of the room and I hadn’t even noticed them leave. 

When the door closes, I shut my eyes. Guilt and pain course through every part of my being.

My name is Leia, and I am the only daughter of the King of the Fae. 

My grim fate started when the most powerful demon of the Forest—the Dark King—took an interest in me. The Dark King asked my father for my hand, and my father agreed, thinking that the union of the most powerful light and dark forces would bring nothing but goodness and harmony to the Children of the Forest. 

The arrangement was all fine with me, as I was young and naïve, and I’d always wanted to be a princess that did her duties for the kingdom... until I fell in love. 

I fell in love at first sight with Gareth, a mortal. He often visited the Forest together with his grandaunt May, who was the Watcher of my father’s generation. The Watchers are a group of mortal humans given extraordinarily long lives, protection, knowledge, power, and understanding of the secret mysteries of the universe. They are bound to serve as intermediaries and arbitrators between the mortals and the Children of the Forest. I soon learned that Gareth was being trained as a Watcher, and May introduced him one by one to the Children of the Forest.

The Fae Kingdom was the first he was introduced to as we were deemed the friendliest with mortals, and I remembered thanking the Heavens for that. Because what if he was introduced first to the water nymphs and mermaids? Or the vampires and shape-shifters? They could all mesmerize and enchant him before he could even say hello.

Before long, Gareth and I became friends, then more than friends. When Gareth learned about my betrothal to the Dark King, he secretly took me away from the Forest, and we married in front of a judge in a little town named Frost.

I was young then, and all I thought about was living happily ever after in the arms of the one I loved. I didn’t think of the gravity of my actions, of marrying Gareth, of running away from the Forest, and of breaking the marriage pact with the Dark King. 

I never knew that the fate I ran away from would be passed on to my first-born daughter.

...* * *...

I must have fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes, I feel a familiar presence in the room. True enough, the young demon is sitting on a couch near the window, staring at me with intensity. A rush of panic washes over me. I quickly glance to check if I’m still holding my baby, and I sigh with relief when I see she’s still sleeping peacefully in my arms.

I look back at the demon. He looks younger than I do. In a mortal’s eyes, they’d say he’s around eighteen or nineteen, while I’d be around twenty-one. But I know better. He’s a century old, and I’m older than him by another century and a half, not that age exists or really matters to the Children of the Forest more than blood and power.

When he meets my gaze, I realize he isn’t really staring at me. He is staring at my daughter.

“You promised,” I say.

“I did, and unlike you, I know how to keep my word,” he says, smirking.

“Then why are you here?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice steady.

The arrogance on his face quickly fades and he turns serious, his eyes boring into me. 

“I—” His voice falters. He runs his hand through his hair, a hint of frustration on his face. He looks lost.

It can’t be. My eyes widen as realization dawns on me. “It was your first,” I whisper, fear and disbelief taking over me. 

“First what?” He stands, eyebrows furrowing.

“Don’t get any closer to us.” I clutch my baby tighter. “Or I’ll shout.” 

He sneers but sits back again on the couch. “You know I can take her away from you before you can even open your mouth.” He taps his foot on the floor. “What did you mean just a little while ago?”

I hesitate. 

“I’m waiting, fairy.” 

“Was it your first?”

“First what?” 

“First kiss.” 

He shoots me a glare that I swear would kill a mortal. 

“I don’t understand.”

“When you kissed her, and you said the spell or whatever incantation that was, was it your first?”

“I still don’t understand, fairy.”

“Was it?” I press on.

He runs his hand through his hair again. “Yes. So what?”

I take a deep breath, not knowing what I should feel about this. “Why… why did you fall?”

“Damn it, fairy. I’m not here for your damn questions.”

“You’re here for my daughter.”

“Obviously.”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to clear away my emotions. Unbelievable. How can he not know the power and limitations of his own kin?

When I glance back at him, confusion and worry are etched on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head, then nod. “No, I mean, it’s not like that. I mean…” Should I even tell him?

“Damn it, just spill it.”

“Everyone knew this…” I begin.

“Apparently, I don’t.”

“A demon’s first kiss is like a curse, a powerful everlasting curse, but a reverse one.” I pause, trying to gauge his feelings. He doesn’t seem to understand even a bit of what I said, so I continue, “It will imprint the demon to whoever he gave the first kiss, not the other way around.”

His eyes widen, horrified, and confused.

“There have been some rare cases too, that the one kissed will still reciprocate the imprint.”

“What kind of **** is that?” He rises and paces back and forth.

I shrug. “None of the Children really know how it all began. Originally, a demon’s kiss—whether first or not—was a weapon of your kin to put anyone you’ve kissed under your spell. I guess some of your first kin abused this power and angered some powerful witches or other Children of the Forest, who cursed every demon’s first kiss to be reversed. In time, newly created demons just learned not to use that power.” 

He rakes his hand through his hair. “Great, so someone could just sneak around us while we sleep and kiss us, then great goodness, we’re under manipulation.”

“No. It doesn’t work like that. The kiss must be willingly given by your kin. It isn’t even required to be on the lips, like what you did. Shockingly, the creator of the curse still respected a demon’s free will in that sense. I think that’s better than when your kin held all the power of the kiss.”  

He glares at me and I shut my mouth.

Suddenly, the door opens and Gareth peeks in. 

“Is everything all right? I heard noises.” He must have seen the shocked look on my face because he enters quickly, glancing around the room.

I stare back at where the young demon had been. He’s gone. 

I know he will be back for her. The curse will be too strong for him to resist, and it will never fail to have a power over him. 

I gaze at my daughter, still sleeping, hope blooming in my chest. She will have power over him.

Chapter 1: Hanael (Present Day)

My palm slams hard on the wooden table. “I will not repeat this again, seer. Tell me how to break the demon’s kiss curse.” 

Lily fakes a dramatic sigh. She shakes her head almost sympathetically, her voluptuous red lips curving up. “You know, you’re not the first demon who threatened me like that. I believe even the Dark King—once upon a time—went to me asking the same question.”

“Zach?”

She shrugs. “Who else? Go on, ask him. I give the same answer to all of you.”

“Bullshit, Lily. I’m not playing games with you. I know how your service works, and I’m willing to pay whatever price it takes. Take this curse off me.”

Her eyes dance evilly. 

At times like this, I wonder if she’s more demon than the rest of us. 

“You’re the one bullshitting me, demon. For eternity, the Children have agreed over only one thing. A curse for a curse. A life for a life. A blood for a blood. In your case, it will be something akin to a kiss for a kiss. What don’t you understand with it? You’ve been pestering me for seventeen years. Imagine, seventeen years.” 

I rake my hair with my hands. “I did it. It’s not working.”

Her eyebrow raises up. “True love’s kiss, demon. Only true love’s kiss. Go back only when you sort it out. Though by then, I’ll be betting my life that you wished you hadn’t.”

...* * *...

Chapter 2: Samantha (Present Day)

A loud knock stops me and my dad from our late dinner. We look at each other, a mixture of confusion and fear showing on both of our faces. I wonder who can it be? We never have visitors, unless it’s the Clares or Mr. Henry, which is impossible at this dead hour of the night. 

“Samantha,” Dad says, “go back to your room.” His voice is clipped and tense. 

I nod, trying to brush away the sudden chill and dread that creeps into my stomach. I climb the stairs all the way to the top and pause, not really going inside my room. Silently, I tiptoe and crouch on the corner where I know any visitors below will not see me.

My heart is pounding, and I don’t know if it’s from fear or excitement. I guess a part of me is excited by the thought that I might see someone new tonight, but a whole lot part of me is afraid. 

In my seventeen years of existence, only five people have known I exist. Or I guess it’s more accurate to say that only five people have seen me, flesh and blood. First is Dad. Second is Mr. Henry, my all-around home-school teacher, who has been teaching me since I uttered my first ABC. Third is Caleb Clare, my only friend. Then Caleb’s father and mother, Theodore and Miranda Clare, which are the only friends Dad seems to have. 

“It is for your safety,” Dad would always say whenever I asked him why I was not allowed to go out of the house and attend the school like normal children do. He would always lock the doors and ground floor windows whenever he went out of the house for work so I wouldn’t be able to go out. Not that we live in a big city with robbers and thieves lurking just about in every corner, nor am I in danger of being kidnapped, because it’s quite the opposite. The town in which we live in is just a small one that doesn’t even exist in Google Maps. Seriously. I’ve searched for it. The town of Frost has a population of only around 3,000 people, with everyone knowing each other’s business, or so from what I believe. The little me then thought, How can a small town be dangerous? Is it so unsafe that I couldn’t go out? I tried to press Dad to give me another reason, but he would always change the topic, my question always falling on deaf ears. 

I did try to run away, of course. I was twelve years old when the grand opportunity presented itself. Dad forgot to lock our huge double doors as he went to the Forest to get some logs. So with pounding heart, wobbly knees, and trembling hands, I twisted the knob and stepped out of our house for the first time in my life. It was the last time too, because that didn’t end well. The moment I walked out of the house, a painful burning feeling that I’d never once imagined possible for anyone to feel coursed throughout my body, almost charring my skin in an instant. I was extremely lucky Dad was not yet far away from home then. He heard my cries and got to me just in time. He was able to apply some cooling ointments on my skin right after. Dad said after that the real reason I couldn’t go out of the house is that I’m sick. He never expounded on what sickness I have, nor do I ask. Truth is, I’m afraid to know. I’m afraid to know that maybe the danger doesn’t lie outside, but inside of me. The scars from the burns were gone after a week, but the memory of the pain from that event lasted in my mind, and I’ve learned never to try again. 

I hear a sob of a woman from below, cutting my thoughts. I peek and see Dad carrying an unconscious boy in his arms, followed by the crying woman, who I assume is the mother. 

“What happened?” Dad asks as he lays the boy gently on the couch. He feels for a pulse on the boy’s wrist. 

“He just passed out. I swear he was okay. We were laughing, and he was telling a funny story, and he, and he—” She weeps, not being able to continue.

Dad shakes his head lightly. He stands and retrieves a stethoscope from his bag.

“How long?”

“About two hours ago.” The woman is now shaking uncontrollably from her sobs. “The doctor said he was gone when I brought him to the hospital. They didn’t know the cause. And I thought—I thought of you.”

Dad places the stethoscope on the boy’s chest. He checks again for another pulse on his neck.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do anything about it. He’s gone.”

“No, no, no.” She shakes her head. “It can’t be. Please, do something.”

Dad pats the woman on the back. “I’m really sorry.”

“He’s half-fae,” the woman blurts out in between sobs. “There must be something.” 

Dad goes still. I take a deep breath as I listen for Dad’s response. Did I hear her correctly? What does she mean “half-fae”?

Dad exhales the breath he’s been holding. “Fae or not, half-blood or not, I cannot do anything about it. I’m sorry, I can’t raise a dead.”

“But you did with your child! How can you not do it with mine?” she protests.

“I—I did not,” Dad says. 

Suddenly, the door bursts open just when I’m about to stand from where I am. Years and years of Dad telling me to not go out of the house and hide when a stranger visits makes me instinctively crouch again. 

But it’s just Theodore and Caleb. 

And Caleb is holding a baby girl I’ve never seen before in his arms. 

She looks dead too.

Before I can even think of Dad being upset, I rush down the stairs, my bare feet padding loudly on the wooden floors. That must be Cara, his sister that he’s raving about at me every time. No, this can’t be. I know how important she is for him.

“Caleb!” I pause briefly to look at the grief-stricken face of Theodore, and I nod my head to him as a greeting, though I doubt this is the kind of situation that calls for any salutation.

I catch Caleb’s eyes and he locks gazes with me. Sorrow. I can only see sorrow. I’ve never seen him so distraught before. My heart immediately goes out to him, and I can feel my eyes starting to pool with tears, even if I have no idea what is happening. I continue walking until I reach his side. I try to ignore the stern expression on Dad’s face on my periphery or the aghast look of the woman as she looks at me up and down as if seeing a ghost for the first time. Well, I guess I may look like a ghost with my pale and almost translucent skin, my messy red hair, and my freakish hazel eyes. And she is really seeing me for the first time. That makes her the sixth person to know I exist. 

“Gareth, help us,” Theodore says. 

Caleb seems to come out from a haze when he heard Theodore’s voice. He breaks his stare at me as his eyes flicker to Dad.

“Please save my sister,” Caleb says, his voice breaking at each word.

Dad glances miserably at the boy lying lifeless on the couch, and he looks back at the baby in Caleb’s arms. “What happened?”

“She was crying, and then she stopped. When I looked at her, she was not moving or breathing anymore.” Caleb is trembling beside me, and I can feel he’s trying his best not to cry. I brush my hand on his back. He glances at me, his voice hoarse. “Did I—did I do something wrong, Sam? I should have checked on her when she first cried.” 

My heart is breaking and it takes all of me to find my voice. “No, it’s not your fault,” I say, shaking my head. 

Dad approaches Caleb and the baby in his arms. He does a quick check for its breathing and its pulse. He takes a deep breath and rakes his hand through his hair. “She’s gone too.”

I can feel Caleb tensing, bracing himself as if he has not yet accepted the fact that his sister is gone until my dad said so. 

“It can’t be,” Caleb says.

Theodore places a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. He shakes his head and gets the baby from him. Caleb hesitates for a moment, not wanting to let go of his sister, before giving her to Theodore.

“Why did they die?” the woman interrupts. I almost forgot she is still around. Slumped beside her child, all hope is gone on her face.

“I do not know,” Dad says, looking sympathetically at her.

“Where’s Miranda, by the way?” Dad turns to Theodore.

“At home, still shocked. I told her it’s better for her to stay.”

“My boy and your baby are not the only ones.” The woman sneers; this time, her voice echoes with bitterness. We all stare at her, her gaze piercing through mine.

Dad moves in front of me, blocking her stare. “What do you mean?” 

I feel Caleb’s hand gripping my upper arm, trying to move me away. I do not budge.

“A series of sudden deaths among the young and the old have been happening since last week. No humans were affected. Only those with the Children’s blood.”

I see Dad tense.

“Caleb, bring Sam up,” Theodore says.

Caleb tugs on my arm. “No,” I say, confusion dawning on me, and my mind cannot catch up with what the woman is saying. I step in front of Dad to see her clearly. 

“I don’t understand,” I say. “What bloods? What do you mean no humans were affected?” I glance at the boy beside her and at Theodore’s baby. Weren’t they humans?

The lips of the woman curl up sinisterly. It’s as if the woman who’s bawling for her son just a while ago and the woman facing me now are two different persons. The transformation is disturbing and unbelievable, even if her face never really changes. She suddenly looks menacing, cunning, and deadly. It takes all of me to not run and hide in my room.

“My dear,” she stands up, prowling toward me. “How… naïve.” 

“That’s enough,” Dad says. “Caleb, bring Samantha to her room.”

Caleb grabs me by the arm and pulls me away this time. “Let’s go, Sam.”  

But the woman isn’t finished yet. She blocks our way. “You must be the reason why our people are dying. You should have been gone a long time ago!”

“Enough!” Dad shouts.

I gape at her; shock and confusion must be painted on my face.

“Of course, he didn’t tell you,” the woman continues to say, ignoring Dad. “I bet he didn’t tell you he isn’t exactly a normal human too? Or you are the bride of the dark—”

I hear a loud thud, and the next thing I know, she is on the floor, unconscious. Theodore had hit her in the back, hard. Dad’s expression is unfathomable. 

Despite my reluctance, Caleb drags me away from them, lifting me up in his arms. 

...* * *...

To say that I am confused, shocked, and feel like my sanity is falling apart is an understatement. None of it makes sense. Caleb brings me to my room, closing the door quietly. He lays me down gently on the bed. We stare at each other for a long time, not speaking or moving. I should ask him what it all means. And despite the confusion, strangeness, and questions running through my mind, another thought makes its way into my head. This is the first time Caleb has been in my room. 

Another thought passes: why haven’t I noticed before that his eyes are the deepest blue I’ve ever seen? It’s almost like the color of the ocean at night. Navy black.

He brushes my hair with his fingers, and I still. Every part of me brims with anticipation. 

He dips his head toward me. For a moment, I think he will kiss me, but he settles on my neck, as his arms wrap around me tightly.

And then, he cries. 

Quietly. 

Too quiet. 

Not even a sound or a gasp. 

The only signs are the tears I can feel raining on my neck and the racking of his body against me as he sobs. He clutches me so tight, it hurts. Not because it hurts physically, but because it’s as if he’s passing to me all the grief and pain he feels, pouring every sorrow into my little body. I hold on to him, wrapping my arms around his back, and stroking his hair after. I want to say something that will console him, but I can’t think of anything, so I keep quiet and match his silent grief.

After a while, his sobs lessen until he calms down. I brush my fingers through his hair and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

I can feel him shaking his head, and then I gasp. He starts raining kisses on my neck. 

Nibbling, biting kisses. His hands moving all over my body. 

“Caleb,” I say breathlessly. A part of me is fearful, as this is the first time he has kissed me anywhere. A part of me warms to the idea, as he is someone I would not mind kissing or being with, but a stronger part of me knows that he’s acting like this now because he’s upset about his sister’s death. 

He’s looking for a distraction to ease the pain. And right now, I am a good distraction to him. I don’t want to be just that. 

I force him to look at me. And I know I’m right. His eyes are all sadness, and tears are still raining down his cheeks. I wipe away his tears, and this action seems to crush him even more. He grabs my hand away from his face and puts it on my side. He brings his forehead to mine. “Please,” he says. “Let me kiss you.”

My heart pounds wildly, and I feel like it will burst out of me. His words are seeping into every crack of my heart that craves affection. And as much as I hate to be just a distraction, I find myself nodding. He places his hands on both sides of my face and gazes deeply into my eyes.

Then, he kisses me hard, hungrily, lustfully. 

He kisses me in every way he can, devouring each of my breaths. 

And all I can think of is how his sorrow wraps beautifully with each kiss, like a parting gift. And how his kisses don’t feel like a search for distraction—but a search for me, the me that always hides and fears—and how slowly, unexpectedly, I can feel my heart breaking silently. 

Because he kisses me like he’ll never be able to kiss me again. 

He kisses me like this is our first and last.