Novels by Ibukunoluwa David

Winter’s POV: When Mother leaves, a different unusual feeling floods my nerves. I look around and the first thing I notice is the herbs. My mind is no longer on the fading pain of the earlier attack. The exhaustion that threatened to pull my under had now transitioned into a calm feel. The herbs Jet left behind still sit untouched on the stool. Their strange glowing liquid fill the room with an earthy scent that settles my racing thoughts. Beneath it, however, another scent lingers. Keon's. Like something my body recognizes before my mind can argue against it. I close my eyes. For a moment, I let myself exist without thinking. No relics. No attacks. No expectations. No choosing. Just breathing. But peace has never lasted long for me. Eventually, reality returns. And with it comes the memory of everything Adriana said. My mother. Her words. The way she looked at me like she had always known something I was still trying to understand. L

Keon's POV:The door opens.And there she is.Adriana Quilox.Winter's mother.The woman who somehow manages to carry herself like someone who has survived storms and learned how to walk through them without letting anyone see the damage.Her eyes immediately find mine.Then Rowan.Then the files scattered across the desk.For a moment, I wonder what she sees.The evidence.The secrets.The things I failed to prevent.She steps inside, closing the door behind her.I open my mouth."Lady Quilox—""I know."The words stop me.Completely.The room falls silent.Not the normal silence.The kind that comes right before something breaks.Rowan looks at me.I look at him.A conversation passes between us without a single word.What does she know?How much does she know?And more importantly—Which secret is she talking about?My mind immediately begins calculating every possibility.Winter being here.Winter being injured.The second attack.The bond.Us.If she knows one thing, we might sur

Keon's POV: Rowan is at the end of the corridor, by my side with concern on his features. "Keon, are you okay?" I nod, trying to recomposed myself. He uses the mindlink. "Are you sure? I've been trying to get to you for a while now. What's on your mind?" I shake my head, trying to free my mind from the several what ifs chaining it down. "Nothing worth your time." He looks me in the eye for several seconds, before concluding that for himself. He eyes the door down the hall, the same door I just came out from and Winter's mother walked into some minutes ago. "Is she alright?" I know exactly who he means. I close my eyes briefly. Using the bond. Just enough. Just enough to feel her. Her breathing. Her calm. The steady rhythm of her magic. "She's fine." Rowan exhales. "Actually fine?" I nod. "Better than before." That surprises him. That makes the two of us in all honesty. Because after everything, I expected her to be worse. But Winter has always been like that.

Keon's POV: The first thought that crosses my mind when I see her mother standing outside my room is not; "Why is she here?" It is absolutely normal for a mother to visit her child. My question is: Why now? The timing could not have been worse. Not because her arrival is unwanted. Not because I do not respect her. But because everything about this situation is a disaster waiting to happen. Winter is inside my room. Injured. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my scent. Sleeping in the place that belongs to me. And the woman standing outside my door is the mother of the person who is supposed to be my brother's future. The woman whose entire kingdom watches her every movement. The woman who cannot afford to be careless. And neither can I. Especially not now. Especially when nobody knows what happened.The truth between and Winter. The second attack. The fact that whoever came for her the first time was not finished. The fact that the person re

Winter's POV The room becomes quiet after Mother's question. Not the uncomfortable kind. Not the kind filled with secrets or things left unsaid. Just quiet. The kind where someone has finally asked the one thing you have spent all your energy avoiding. "Who do you love?" I hate that I don't have an answer. Not because I don't feel anything. Because I feel too much. For too many people. For too many things. My entire life has been built around choices that were never really mine. Ever since I was little, my each and every move has been long contemplated weeks sometimes months before they happened. As the High Wizard's first child a lot of eyes were constantly on me, waiting and watching for the slightest mistake. From the way I walked, spoke, and acted, every move was being carefully nitpicked and torn apart by envious eyes. The treaty. The marriage. The expectations. The sacrifices. Everyone always knew what Winter was supposed to do. Nobody ever sto

Winter's POV I hate that my mother knows me so well. Not because it is comforting. Because it is inconvenient. There is something deeply unfair about being twenty-three years old, surviving political disasters, magical attacks, and being dragged into situations that could affect the entire supernatural world—only to be completely exposed by one raised eyebrow from your mother. She watches me carefully. Not accusing. Not angry. Just knowing. And somehow that is worse. "You're defending him." I immediately look away. "I am not." "You are." "I'm explaining." "Winter." I sigh. Because unfortunately, she is right. Again. I hate when people are right. Especially my mother. "I am not saying he handled everything perfectly," I say carefully. "I'm saying I understand why he did what he did." Mother studies me. "That is usually where people start making excuses for someone." I open my mouth. Then close it. Because that was annoyingly accurate.