Pulled into a war that divides the sky, Bronte is torn between her desire to save the world and her growing connection with Nick. But she will have to let go of reality as she knows it, if she is to accept her role in destiny before the Hunter, who has been tracking her since birth, finds and destroys any chance she has of making the choice which is her birthright to make.

“I know everything about you.” His lips crimped into that line again. “Well, nearly everything.”

God. Why was he so cryptic? “Listen. Can you just take the cap off? It’s annoying me.”

He laughed, an unexpected sound. He seemed too intense to be the kind of person to laugh. “Well, I’d hate to annoy you.” He swept the cap off, leaving a shock of jet-black hair standing on end.

“Oh.” My mouth fell open.

“Oh, what?” His eyes narrowed and I snapped my mouth shut.

“Nothing.” I took a few breaths, just to make sure I was alive and there was the slimmest chance this was real. “So, am I going to ask the questions or are you going to talk?”

He laughed again, and I was sure his body pitched a little bit closer to mine. Violet eyes pinned me in place and I struggled to remember how to swallow. “When you were seven you decided you wanted to climb trees.”

My body stiffened. “Yes?”

“There’s a fir tree in your back garden that’s easily sixty feet high.”

“Yes?”

“What do you remember about the time you fell?” The violets flickered at me. “It was August and scorching hot, you were wearing red shorts and a yellow T-shirt. You fell through the branches like a pine cone?”

I stared up into his face, his skin was dark olive, eyes burning bright. My tongue ran along my lips while my heart made a terrible thudding noise in my chest. “I don’t.” I whispered. “I woke up and I was on the ground.”

“I know. I caught you.” My body stepped back although his hand darted out and snatched hold of mine. “Bronte, I’ve been watching you your whole life. I know it sounds weird.” His nose scrunched as he contemplated just how weird it sounded.

“Why?”

“Because,” he ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at electrifying angles. “Because you’re the last of the star children. The last of the half born.”