Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,1

about Nix’s involvement in his daughter Ahmya’s death—although his mind was clearly shattered—and shifters tended to give Nix a wide berth.

With Councilman LaCroix and Councilman Khan dead, we were down to four council members who posed a threat—Councilmen Rahal, Maldonado, Ishida, and Stepanov. Groomed to join the Council from a young age, Joshua had been able to denounce Nix and the rebellion and take his place filling Councilman LaCroix’s position, though it had come at a heavy personal cost. His father, Councilman Williams, ruled at his side, trying to appease the Council while also working to keep his son safe as Joshua aided the rebellion and fed us information.

And what had been just a dream to many was now very real. Our rebellion strongholds were bursting at the seams as we found room for defectors from the Council’s lands looking for shelter and protection in exchange for bolstering our numbers.

Although it was clear the Council had attempted to conceal the events of Thanksgiving, word had still spread quickly. Some of our first new members had been the servants and guards in attendance that day who had fled with their families in fear that their lives would be sacrificed to keep the Council’s weakness a secret. They weren’t overreacting either. Several shifters who had worked at the Lodge had disappeared without a trace.

More dissenters followed, sneaking off the island by boat, air, or on the backs of sea creatures able to traverse the gulf to freedom.

What had once been a small movement had turned into an ever-growing war. Never before had mythologicals and animal shifters worked side by side, though harmony was far from achieved. The unrest among the factions was a constant political undercurrent that threatened to derail us from the inside out. With victory a very real possibility, each faction strove to draw more members to their own parties, hoping to influence what the shifter world became once we reached the other side. While relations between the factions were taut, at least we were all looking toward a future that involved the downfall of the current Council. None of us allowed ourselves to think of what would happen if we failed.

I settled more comfortably onto my bed and turned to stare at my mother’s empty mattress. The comforter was rough, nothing at all like the one I had on my bed back home, and the scratchy fabric irritated my tender skin. The light spilling through the window was dim, the sun sliding just above the horizon before sinking into night—as per usual with winter in Alaska—but my internal clock knew it was nearing dinner despite the constant dusk. I missed my own room, my own bed. Even as I thought the words, I bit my cheek, attempting to wipe them from my brain. Guilt ate at me and I shifted, hugging my pillow to my chest as I struggled to ease away the tears welling at the corners of my eyes. My heart longed for the delicious smell of my mom’s baking that used to fill my house, the pictures that decorated the walls bursting with happy memories from my youth, and the safety I used to feel within that structure, though I knew what lay outside the front door was anything but.

Here, however, I was faced daily with the stark truth, the reminder of the oppression we faced under a corrupt Council. The hardship was etched into the worried lines of the refugees’ faces. Everything had changed. Now, instead of fretting over finishing high school and courting the men who’d bid on me at the Gala, I was faced with combat training and helping my mother in the clinic where she worked tirelessly treating anyone who was sick or injured. Together, we’d been preparing medical kits that could be used to triage the wounded amidst a battle, while the more experienced medical professionals were working on anti-venoms that could counteract the most powerful shifters the Council might use against us. Everyone had a place in the rebellion preparing for the war on our doorstep.

Yet, just like my brother, I struggled to find my place. My standing as a female kraken shifter hadn’t garnered me any great respect amongst the Council, and while I was a respected member of the rebellion, I wrestled to discover my usefulness amid powerful mythologicals and cunning animal shifters. Despite my creature’s size and power, being a kraken—especially a female kraken—wasn’t considered much of a strength. If anything, being a sea creature on land