The Crescent and the Ash Queen: The Transcendents, #1

By Stephanie BwaBwa

A deadly assassin seeking freedom. A manipulative queen seeking power. A depraved court hanging in the balance.

Zavala Nightingale is a deadly assassin with a slick mouth, and devastating magic. Even though she's the most feared Crescent in the Bones Court, she still wants out.

Zavala has one more job to finish, then she'll collect her coin and leave…

But the Ash Queen has other plans for her.

When the Ash Queen declares Zavala as her heir, and the next Crescent Queen, Zavala will be faced with one of two choices:

Accept and be a Crescent for life, or deny the Ash Queen, drawing the wrath of every assassin alive.

For fans of angels, assassins, and powerful magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephanie BwaBwa
• Release date: Jan 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201000370

Book preview

1

"I ’ll wait for you here."

A flash of amusement coated the eyes of amber staring back at her. Please, Zavala. No noise tonight.

Zavala tutted. A wicked smirk curled her lips. Now Ezren, where’s the fun in that?

Ezren groaned. She couldn’t make out anything but his eyes beneath his thick cloak. Made of a thousand feathers, the deepest shades of midnight, he was practically a ghost, blending in with the twilight above.

The amber darkened, and somewhere in the nothingness, she made out a small fang peeking out of curling full lips. She shuddered, a thrill flooding her veins.

Deaths kiss each twilight, he said. His deep voice snaked around her, caressing the curves of her hips. Sinking into her skin.

Always, until the Ellelights, Zavala finished.

Ezren turned away from her in the shadowed alcove, spread his massive wings, and flew off.

Zavala couldn’t help but watch him. She took in the tan hue of each feather. Watched the muscles pull and stretch with each flap against the windless night. Stood in awe of the glorious starlight woven into every feather.

Ezren’s wings carried him from their secret perch, an alcove tucked away in the heart of a busy street, and veered towards the west. Towards the district of the nobles, the Lords and Ladies, of Caldryen.

Zavala stepped out of their alcove and began gliding. Endless cycles of training kicked in. She counted how many chariots were in view. How many angels were flying in and out of the buildings rising around her. She knew where every possible escape was. Where she could disappear if anything went wrong.

The angels were having their fill tonight. Whenever duskfall came, Zavala could count on a large number of angels to start wasting their nights away. Her eyes landed on a couple—so entangled it was hard to tell where the angèlle began and the angìl ended—beneath the low light coming from the streetlamps.

No, I don’t want to, the female giggled. The angèlles body swayed, her male companion catching her right in time before she stumbled to the stone gravel of the walkway. I’m hungry.

Don’t worry, I’ll feed you plenty.

The angìl grinned wide.

The angèlle tumbled into another fit of giggles, her long braids swinging. The ends were laced with golden beads that clicked against one another. Her eyes stared pointedly at… eternals.

Zavala’s cheeks flushed as she caught the angèlle staring at the bulge between the angìls tight pants.

Zavala shuffled away, gliding down the walkway, her airborne steps light as feathers. But not before the pair managed to stumble into a chariot just large enough for their bodies and their large pairs of wings.

By the time Zavala cut around a corner, noisy moans of pleasure reached her ears. It took several clicks of the bellclock before her cheeks cooled down again.

Caldryen, her home, was a large city, and the capital of the Bones Court. Not too far, at Caldryens center, an oversized tower stood, with the bellclock ticking away to keep all angels on time.

Erotic music tumbled out of parlors tucked away into lined buildings. They reached so high her head had to tip back to view the rooftops. Zavala could hear the thump, thump of bass blaring against thick windows, wings slamming against the walls from the inside, as bodies bumped and grinded against one another within the walls.

She couldn’t see them of course. But her otherworldly impressions, and sensitive magic, could sense them. Feel them. Drowning their nights away in their temporary highs.

She couldn’t blame them. Most angels in the eastern districts of Caldryen lived hard lives. They were overworked, underpaid, and fought burning hard to reach the weeks end for some escape.

Her leather boots brushed against the stone carrying her to the largest bridge in the city. The heaviness of the night weighed on her. Zavala thought of the full chest, secretly tucked away in her chambers back at the Crescent Guild. She thought of the coin she’d saved to get the zrex out of this pitiful Court. To ditch this brutal life, and start fresh, anywhere, but in the Bones Court.

She began climbing the steps, pushing towards the top of the bridge. One more burning job, and she could leave. Ditch this life for good. She found a spot at the center with a good view of the bellclock. She sat down, sticking out her right arm. Zavala inched the sleeve back revealing the brand on her wrist. A crescent moon with two daggers crossed over the center and sprawled thorns curled around it. The brand of the Crescents.

The image of her parael bond with Ezren.

Each Crescent had a partner. And their bond went deeper than the brand on their skin. With it she could sense Ezren’s feelings, his location, and if he was safe or in danger. The parael bond was often the fine line between life and death. Especially if a job was going wrong and a Crescent needed backup.

Zavala stared at it, fighting the emotions rising in her chest. She’d saved enough coin to both leave and pay a hefty price to have the bond removed. Ezren didn’t know this of course, but he’d be fine. Once she was gone, the Ash Queen would give him a new partner, and he’d move on.

All of the Crescents would.

She sighed, pulling out her ashbone dagger from it’s sheath on her right thigh. Eyes glued to the bellclock, Zavala waited until it was her time to swap with Ezren, and finish their job.

2

Perched on the edge of the dilapidated bridge, Zavala Nightingale twirled her ashbone dagger in one hand. The blade was forged of golden bone, the tip coated in scarlet. The hilt was sturdy