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I left this city to protect my children. Ten years later, I was returning for the very same reason.

It was called Avalon. It was the place where I was born—and, if all went to plan, the place where I would die.

Avalon was many things: a city, a continent, a world. From the sleek skyscrapers in the city center, headquarters of the great and powerful Magic Houses, to the verdant forests in the north, Avalon was a vast and varied place. A place of mountains and beaches, of deserts and marshes, of prairies and lakes. We had it all.

We also had corporate warfare and political intrigue to spare. To be anyone in Avalon, you had to play the game, day in and day out. My game started today. Today was the day I would take back the life they’d stolen from me.

“Wakey-wakey! Rise and shine, superstars!” I said brightly, shaking my ten-year-old twins awake.

Kalani sat up, giving me a blank, tired stare. She blinked a few times.

“Today’s the big day!” I told my kids, smiling so hard that my jaw cracked.

Cassian groaned and rolled over, away from me. Kalani didn’t move. She just sat there, still and silent on the lumpy hotel bed she shared with her brother. She looked like she was sleeping with her eyes open. Cassian started to snore again.

I didn’t blame them. It was six in the morning, which was at least two hours too early to be out of bed. That’s why I was smiling so hard. The jaw exercise was the only thing keeping me awake. There wasn’t anything remotely caffeinated in this tiny hotel room, just two beds and the lopsided dresser wedged between them. That dresser held all our worldly possessions, which truth be told, didn’t amount to much. We’d come here from Earth with just two suitcases and my trusty, banged-up toolbox.

“I got you some breakfast.” I set a brown paper bag on the dresser.

That snapped them out of it. Cassian moved so fast toward the breakfast bag that he nearly pushed his sister out of bed.

“Finally. I’m famished.” Cassian said it like he’d been awake for hours, waiting for his breakfast to arrive. “What is it? Pancakes? Eggs? Tasty breakfast sausages infused with maple syrup?” He thrust his hand inside the bag. When he pulled out a fruit salad cup, his eager anticipation soured to mild disappointment. “Fruit? For breakfast?”

“Yes,” I said as Kalani grabbed the second fruit cup, popped it open, and started eating, all without comment. She still looked half-asleep. “What’s wrong with fruit?”

“It’s fruit,” Cassian replied. “And it’s breakfast. Breakfast means meat and croissants, not pineapples and papayas.” He frowned into his fruit cup. “And is that a grape?”

I looked at the juicy red grape he was holding out to me. “Why? Is that a problem?”

Cassian pretended to retch, quite melodramatically too.

I rolled my eyes at him. “The grape won’t kill you. Eat your breakfast, Cas. You’ll need your strength today.”

“But it’s a grape.” He said it like it was a naughty word. “I consider it the ultimate violation of my basic human rights to be forced to eat a grape.”

“Very clever,” I said, really struggling not to laugh. “You’re a real philosopher.”

He shrugged. “That’s your fault for making me read all those weird philosophy books.”

“Yes, well, you never know what kinds of things might show up on your school entrance exam.” I grabbed the mirror off the dresser, smoothed out my hair, touched up my makeup, then turned to my kids again. “Well?” I asked, rotating in a slow circle. “How do I look?”

“Pretty,” Kalani told me. “Where did you get the suit? I haven’t seen it before.”

“I made it.”

My daughter’s eyes narrowed, and her nose scrunched up. It was the look she got whenever she was concentrating very hard. Her gaze followed the contours of my new suit, examining every stitch, analyzing every buttonhole. Then she slid off the bed and had me do another turn before she declared me presentable. Well, with one caveat.

“We need to redo your makeup,” she told me.

“Why?” I frowned. “What’s wrong with my makeup?” I looked in the mirror to see if I could find the problem—smeared lipstick, streaky mascara, anything—but everything looked fine to me.

“There’s nothing wrong with it exactly,” replied Kalani. “It could just be better.”

So I let my ten-year-old daughter sit me down and redo all my makeup. But Kalani wasn’t just any ten-year-old girl. She was special; both my kids were. As Kalani worked, she chatted away about shading and contouring and a bunch of other things she must have learned by watching videos. And by the time she was done with me, I really did look a million times better.

“Thank you,” I told her, squeezing her hands.

“Anytime, Mom.” She grinned back at me. “Maybe next time we can try out something really dramatic!”

“Yeah, ok. Next time,” I said. “Today I need to look serious and professional for my trip to Companies Hall.”

There was a knock on the door. I went to answer it, but Cassian was faster. He darted in front of me, moving fast and focused, like a cat, beating me to the door.

“Who is it?” he asked, dropping his voice so it sounded deeper.

“It’s Elodie.”

Elodie was my friend. We’d met last week, on my third day back in Avalon, in front of the vending machine at the Tower Woods train station. She’d come to my aid after my mini pretzels had gotten stuck in the machine. She’d tipped the whole heavy block of metal and glass with ease—and with only one hand—thereby freeing my snack and saving the day. I’d shared my pack of pretzels with her, and we’d been friends ever since.

“Elodie?” Cassian said in his deep, fake voice. “I don’t know any Elodie. What’s the password?”

“The password is ‘your mom’s standing right behind you right now, giving you the evil eye, so let me in, you scoundrel’,” Elodie chuckled. “Oh, and I brought cupcakes.”

Cassian nearly tore the chain off the door in his haste to get it open. “Cupcakes!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

He snatched the box out of Elodie’s hands and retreated to the other side of the room, like a cat who’d caught a mouse. When Kalani tried to claim a cupcake for herself, he levitated the box up to the ceiling to keep it away from her. Then, glaring at each other, the twins engaged in a game of telekinetic tug-of-war that I hoped wouldn’t end with cupcake bits all over the floor, ceiling, and my fancy new business suit.

“Ooh, looking snazzy, Arina!” Elodie said, stepping into the hotel room. “Love the makeup!”

“I did it!” Kalani squeaked from the other side of the room.

“Yeah, I can totally tell. It looks way too professional to be your mom’s work,” Elodie replied, grinning at her.

I felt compelled to defend my honor—or at least my makeup artistry skills—but she was right. Kalani was way better at those kinds of things than I was. I could paint walls, doors, even cars, but my own face was a whole different matter altogether.

“So, how’s it going, lovely people?” Elodie asked us, closing the door.

“So much better now that you’re here,” Cassian said, his mouth full of half-chewed cupcake bits.

He and Kalani must have decided that sharing the cupcakes was preferable to blowing them up.

“Mmmm,” Kalani agreed, keeping her mouth closed. She had better manners than her brother. Though she’d gotten a bit of icing in her hair.

I turned back to Elodie. “Thanks for agreeing to watch them this morning.”

“Hey, no problem,” she said, snatching a cupcake for herself. “I don’t have to get into work until the afternoon today.”

Elodie was a ballerina at the Avalon City Ballet. She was also, like everyone in Avalon, a supernatural with magical abilities. Her power was shapeshifting. She turned into a white wolf—that was her personal favorite—but she could also shift into an assortment of other apex predators. That’s how she could tip a big, heavy vending machine one-handed. Shifters were the strongest supernaturals in the city.

Of course you wouldn’t know how strong she was just by looking at her. On the outside, Elodie was just your typical ballerina: pretty, petite, and slender. She often wore her blonde, shoulder-length hair down, or sometimes in a ponytail. I guess she wanted to try out something other than a ballet bun during her off-hours.

Her outfits were always sporty and very colorful. Today, she was wearing a bright pink racerback top and a pair of flower-pattern leggings. Her soft fabric sneakers were the same bright pink as her top, and so was the scrunchie around her right wrist. Her makeup was natural, understated. And she smelled of roses and lavender.

“It’s my potpourri,” she said when I commented on the scent. “I can get you some, if you want. Or maybe something a little spicier? A scent the men would find…” She gave her brows a slow, mysterious lift. “…irresistible?”

I snorted. “Na, I don’t have time to fend off raunchy men.”

Elodie laughed, so light and airy, like petals falling from a tree. “Yeah, neither do I. Ok, so then I’ll get you a special blend of potpourri, subtle and classy, just like you.” She indicated my suit.

It was my best suit. My only suit. Suits were ubiquitous in Avalon, but they certainly weren’t affordable. Probably because the only people who wore them could afford the extravagant price tag that came with them. But I wasn’t one of those people—at least not yet.

Women’s suits were particularly hard to come by due to Avalon’s total lack of female executives. There were a few novelty suits, but those weren’t business attire so much as specialized costumes, intended for a very different kind of professional woman. They wore those costumes for male clients who had kinky tastes in the bedroom. Or maybe the boardroom?

How did I know all of this? Well, all the women’s suits I’d found came with rip-away crotches and other features that were totally impractical—and totally unwanted—in everyday life. After over an hour of fruitless shopping, I’d abandoned my search for the perfect suit and decided to make it myself instead with the help of a sewing machine, lots of fabric, and lots of patience. And if all went well today, I’d have to make myself many more.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours,” I told Elodie, gathering up my briefcase. “I have all my documentation in order, so the appointment should go quickly. Most of the time will be taken up getting to Companies Hall and back again.”

“Take your time,” Elodie said, tapping her sport bag. “I have coloring books and puzzles in here, so we’ll be fine. Right, kids?”

“Can we go out for more cupcakes?” Cassian asked.

“You ate them all already?” Elodie’s eyes went wide. “All six of them?”

“I was hungry.” Cassian patted his stomach. “I’m still hungry.”

“Well, then it’s fortunate that there’s still fruit salad,” I told him.

He gave the fruit cup on his nightstand a look full of loathing. “Yeah. Awesome.” He twirled his finger in the air in mock celebration.

“Ok, so make sure you guys brush your teeth after eating all that sugar,” I said, slipping into my high-heeled shoes.

Cassian watched me, fascinated. “So, you’re going to start a company?” he asked, then popped the red grape into his mouth, its sins totally forgotten. Or maybe his hunger was just too powerful.

“A House, yes,” I said, putting in my earrings. I was going with pearls: stately, sophisticated, and smart. “And after I get back from Companies Hall, I’ll bring you two to Avalon Academy for your entrance exams. So please make sure you’re both ready to go as soon as I get back, fully dressed in the outfits I got you—”

“That outfit you got me is so weird,” Cassian told me.

I turned away from the mirror, looking at him. “What’s weird about it?”

He jogged over to the bathroom door, pulled the garment bag off the hook there, and then trotted back to me. “It’s a suit.” He tapped his finger against the transparent front of the bag, pointing at the suit within like it was some exotic animal in a cage at the zoo.

“And?”

“And I’m a kid,” he said, shaking the bag for emphasis. “Kids shouldn’t have to wear suits.”

“Would that be another ultimate violation of your basic human rights?” I asked, my lips twitching with amusement.

Cassian flashed me a big grin. “Yep. Definitely.”

Kalani had her clothes neatly laid out on the bed. In contrast to Cassian’s suit, her outfit consisted of a short plaid skirt, white knee-high stockings with black shoes, and a sweater. She blinked. “Where are the pants?”

“Pants for girls haven’t been invented yet in Avalon,” I said.

I was only kind of kidding. Avalon wasn’t known for its gender equality.

Kalani frowned at the uniform she was supposed to wear. “No pants? That’s stupid. Girls have legs, just like boys. So we should get to wear pants too.”

If only the ruling Magic Houses of Avalon were as sensible as my ten-year-old daughter, things would make a lot more sense around here.

“Change takes time, sweetheart,” I said to Kalani.

She and Cassian had spent their whole lives up until this point on Earth. This was just the first of many major culture shocks to come.

“So why does she get to wear pants?” Kalani pointed at Elodie. “She’s a girl.”

Elodie laughed. “Yes, but I’m not a noble lady. The unaffiliated, unwashed masses of Avalon don’t have to dress properly because we’re not proper people.”

Kalani’s brow crinkled. “And I am a noble lady?”

“Oh, yes,” Elodie told her. “Once your mother gets her House registered, you will all be as noble and fancy as can be. Then you’ll move far, far away and forget all about me.” She winked at Kalani.

“I would never!” Kalani protested.

“Yeah,” Cassian agreed. “Those ‘noble people’ can stuff their fancy clothes up their—”

“Cassian,” I warned him.

“Up their garbage chutes,” he finished. “I was going to say garbage chutes.”

I snorted. “I’m sure.”

Cassian frowned. “Wait, do noble people even have garbage chutes?”

“Not generally, no. They have servants to carry away their trash. The ruling Houses try to keep the trash far, far away from them.” I brushed down my clothes. “And on that happy note, I’m heading downtown now, into the Diamond District, stomping ground of Avalon’s elite.”

“Good luck!” Elodie said with a big thumbs up.

“Thank you,” I said, standing tall and confident as I headed for the door.

The show was about to begin, and it wouldn’t be over until I’d taken back what the other Houses had stolen from me. It wouldn’t be over until I’d gotten what I needed to protect my children.