AnnaGrey and the Constellation, page 23
Contents
AnnaGrey and the Constellation
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgment
The Laéth Realm
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
About the Author
Also From Young Dragons
Also from Young Dragons
Also From Young Dragons
An Imprint of Roan & Weatherford Publishing, LLC
Bentonville, Arkansas
www.roanweatherford.com
Copyright © 2023 by Lindsay Flanagan
We are a strong supporter of copyright. Copyright represents creativity, diversity, and free speech, and provides the very foundation from which culture is built. We appreciate you buying the authorized edition of this book and for complying with applicable copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. Thank you for supporting our writers and allowing us to continue publishing their books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Flanagan, Lindsay author
Title: AnnaGrey and the Constellation/Lindsay Flanagan
The Laéth Realm Adventures #1
Description: First Edition. | Bentonville: Young Dragons, 2023.
Identifiers: LCCN: 2023942441 | ISBN: 978-1-63373-849-2 (trade paperback) |
ISBN: 978-1-63373-850-8 (eBook)
Subjects: JUVENILE FICTION/Fantasy & Magic | JUVENILE FICTION/Fairy Tales & Folklore/General |
JUVENILE FICTION/Legends, Myths, Fables/General
LC record available at: https://lccn.loc.gov.2023942441
Young Dragons eBook edition August, 2023
Cover & eBook Formatting by Casey W. Cowan
Cover Illustration by Victoria Marble
Map Illustration by K.M. Brown
Editing by Amy Cowan & Lisa Lindsey
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Lily, my wished-for and wished-upon star
and for Aislin, my unexpected star in darkness
who are the constellation of my heart
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
THIS STORY WOULDN’T have even been an idea without Noel Ferreira planting the seed that I should write a story about a unicorn named Penelope. Although she became an aeobanach named Iris, my near-nightly message chats with a long-distance BFF got this story rolling.
I couldn’t have kept writing about Iris without my friend and editing colleague, Emilee Newman Bowles, who read about Iris-then-Penelope in her earliest forms, made brilliant suggestions, and told me that this story was “the one.”
Andrea Moody—college bestie, amazing teacher, voracious reader—who suggested that this story was about AnnaGrey, and I’m so glad I listened to her incredible advice.
Sandi Larsen and Diana Webber, college besties, who have cheered on my writing projects since the day we met.
My writing partner, Devin Bradley, who read every draft, fangirled as a grown man over unicorns, and forgot the book wasn’t published yet and suggested it to his students to read.
My pre-submission editors: Sabine Berlin, Heather Harris-Bergevin, and Michele Preisendorf, whose suggestions and brilliant edits polished the manuscript as bright as the constellations.
Evva and Kaylee, who became fans of AnnaGrey and her companions and made me feel like a “real” author.
Charlotte, Catherine, and Bethany, who read the story because their moms are my besties—but ended up liking the book, so that’s a bonus for me.
Mimi, Lisa, Megan, and Shawnte—friends who connected with me on a music level and understood when I compared the songs we love to writing fantasy for kids.
This list wouldn’t be complete without thanking Angela Eschler and the incredible team at Eschler Editing, where I got my start as an editor (and where I promise I will forever remain!).
Jessica Reino, my agent—thank you for taking me on. Thank you for being the most enthusiastic, fun, optimistic, lovely agent out there.
The entire team at Roan & Weatherford Publishing and Young Dragons Press: Casey Cowan, Amy Cowan, Katie Brown, Victoria Marble, and Lisa Lindsey, for their passion and care into making this book beautiful.
Deb Thornton, college-professor-turned-friend, who has supported and encouraged me for nearly twenty years, and who helped me find my place.
Mom, who read to me at night even though she was exhausted from work as a nurse, took me to the library, and let me buy a book every year at the book fair.
Dad, who insisted I got my talent from him and who I hope is bragging about this book in heaven.
Brooke, my sister and best friend.
Beto, the best brother-in-law a little sister could ask for, and my darling niece, Hannahlia, and adorable nephews, Rio and Cayo.
My “bonus” family, Carolyn, Austin, Shea, and Larissa, for who I am forever grateful came into my life.
My late Aunt Sherry, who never once stopped believing in me. I hope Dad and Sherry are hanging out on the curve of the crescent moon and reading my words.
Lily, my favorite oldest daughter, who is the biggest fan of AnnaGrey, the best first reader and sounding board, and who catches mistakes in my manuscripts, so I don’t get the timelines wrong.
Aislin, my favorite youngest daughter, the first to give me a congratulatory card when I received news that this story was going to be published, and who says I’m the best author EVER. I hope her opinion about that never changes.
And finally, Shawn—best friend, love of my life, partner in parenting, motorcycle chauffeur, concert buddy, and the only one between the two of us who never once doubted, never stopped believing that this story would find a home. I will go to the very end with you, even to the fires of Mordor and the heart of Mount Doom.
THE LAÉTH REALM
CHAPTER ONE
I CAN SEE in the dark. Night-vision in humans is, according to Mom, rare. Not just rare—unheard of, except for her and me—and unspoken of except for in the four walls of our home.
While it’s a useful gift for finding lost items in a pitch-black closet, it’s also an inconvenience when the teacher snaps off the lights in the classroom for a presentation or movie. Not only can my eyesight penetrate the shadows, but my eyes also glow bright green, like an animal’s.
I don’t want to deal with this today—I’m already dealing with eighth grade—but our teacher has already directed our attention to the whiteboard, and it’s not like my objection would change her mind about the format of today’s lesson. I reach in my bag for my sunglasses. All the teachers know about my “sensitivity” to bright screens when all the lights are off.
My hands come up empty. I can clearly see them sitting on my nightstand. Maybe I can fake an illness so I don’t have to sit through the whole period with my eyes clamped shut.
But the lights go out, so I close my eyes. From my nearly isolated corner of the back of the room, it’s possible my eyes would go unnoticed since the other kids are either focused on the lesson—doubtful, since health class is not the top choice of entertainment for a bunch of fourteen-year-olds—or, more likely, having hushed conversations with each other. My neck begins to ache, and I’m drowsy, the effect of a heavy lunch and a long day at school. Thankfully, it’s the last period of the day. I open my eyes a slit to make myself more alert and find Norcross Silverstone staring at me. A spasm of shock flashes across his face, and I snap my lids shut again.
“What the freak?” Cross says in a strangled whisper.
Of all the people who I’d not want to see my eyes glow, it’s Cross. I hunch my shoulders to make myself smaller and put my head down on my arms as if covering my face will ma
“What?” one of Cross’s friends hisses at him. A few seconds later, the friend sniggers. “Freakenstein must be scared of the dark.”
Cross makes snoring sounds in my direction and slurps his spit as if he’s drooling. “She’s crying,” he scoffs. “And now the freak has to hide her gray snot.”
The others, even the kids who aren’t part of his inner circle, snort with muffled laughter.
A coil of embarrassed fear springs from my gut, causing my legs to shake.
“Mr. Silverstone,” Ms. Whiting says, “quiet down, or you will find yourself in detention. Again.”
The laughter dies out, and our teacher resumes her lesson, not even noticing I appear to be asleep. Once again Cross’s arrows have found their mark on me. Even though the comments have stopped, I’ll endure more from Cross again soon. My eyes aren’t even normal in daylight. The pupils aren’t big and round—they’re shaped like half-moons. Mom claims we have a rare genetic condition that required surgery, and the result made our pupils crescent shaped. The ability to see in the dark, she said, is a side effect of the surgery.
“No one else in this world has night vision, so no one can know you have it,” she told me. “They’d think you were strange, or they’d use you for it. You understand, AnnaGrey?”
No, I didn’t. And they think I’m weird anyway. My glowing eyes scared Cross though. I’d love to open them right now just to see fear on his face. But the desire to see him scared is overridden by my wish to remain unseen.
Ms. Whiting flips the lights back on and turns off the projector. I avoid making eye contact with anyone, least of all Cross, throughout the rest of the period. When the final bell rings, I dash out of class. I don’t even stop by my locker before rushing out of the school. I walk home with my head tucked into my chest and my hands stuffed into my jacket pockets. The September breeze is cool today, and I just want to get home where it’s safe and warm, and there’s another person whose eyes are like mine.
Mom doesn’t explain anything more about our condition. I stopped asking her a long time ago. Last time I did, she got super mad and told me to quit questioning her. I think she’s afraid if I know too much about our condition, I’ll find something out about her past—maybe find out she really wasn’t orphaned, that she ran away from home or something. Rebelled. But I’m not concerned about the past. I care about now, my future. I have to believe with all the strides in modern medicine, something else can be done. That I can be fixed. That’s why I’ve spent so many lunch periods in the library. Connelly, my best and only friend, helps me research my condition. The library is quiet, Mom can’t check my search history, and it keeps me from running into Cross. Even if the lights go out in there, sitting in the dark with Connelly doesn’t bother me. She’s seen my eyes glow for a few years now.
Except I haven’t found anything online—at least nothing about night vision in humans. Not that it’s a surprise, but today’s search yielded no record of the “Dr. Smith” Mom claims does this kind of surgery. I can’t even ask my regular doctor because I don’t have one. Mom believes in herbal and natural remedies, which, she explained, can cure just about anything except for my eyes, apparently. Oh, there are plenty of Dr. Smiths out there. Just not the one I was hoping to find. Another dead end. Now I’m out of leads. And I’m out of excuses to believe her.
For the rest of my life, I’ll have to hide my eyes, hide myself, like Mom has.
I turn the corner toward my street, and it’s then I hear footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder.
Cross Silverstone is following me.
A rush of cold trickles through me as if my blood is turning to slush. But I don’t think he’s following me. We’re just going the same way. He probably didn’t even notice me until he felt my gaze on him. He scowls. I turn back around, tuck my chin down, and decide the best way to get away from him is to take the long road through the Wildwood—the forest Mom forbids me to go into. Lesser of two evils and all. I pick up my pace.
He shouts something to me as I duck into the thick trees, but the words are swallowed by the pines. I’m deep in the dank forest by the time I stop running. I wait thirty seconds. A minute.
Good. I’m alone.
And I’m scared. The one time I came in here was with Connelly, and we only skirted the edge of the woods. I could get lost in here—I probably am lost. I spin around, searching for the path I followed when I first entered, but it has disappeared among the bushes and branches. Urban legends about the Wildwood are popular in our town. There have been reported sightings of demons with wings and beasts with red eyes living in here. I climb a thick, sturdy willow, hoping I can see above the trees and find my way out of here—and get myself out of reach of the monsters that might lurk in here. What I find is an ocean of autumn colors painted across the ceiling of the woods. I slide below the canopy of leaves and clamber down the trunk, trying to slow my panicked breaths.
There’s a groove in the tree limb like a seat, almost as if it molded itself that way for me, where I pause to catch my breath. If I can’t find my way out, I might have to stay in the woods until not even the moonbeams can stream through the pines. Then Mom will have to find me. My stomach clenches in fear at the thought of spending the night alone in the dark woods. Of the trouble I’ll be in when she finds me. But as I settle into the seat in the tree, I find most of all I’m tired. Tired of not knowing, tired of being made fun of, tired of being lied to.
I lean my head back and close my eyes, letting the hush of leaves quiet my anger and soothe my hurt, their song lulling me into a semi-slumber where I dream of normal eyes, normal parents, normal life.
It doesn’t feel like much time has passed, but suddenly I’m aware of a change of light in the Wildwood, and I tear open my eyes. A forest floor once dotted with patches of golden sunlight is now bathed in the purple light of dusk. My skin prickles, and I sit up. A faint, rhythmic thudding sounds from the depths of the trees below. My hands tremble, and my heart pounds in tandem with the noise echoing among the now-dark trees. I swallow hard, my breath caught behind the lump in my throat.
I’ve been in the Wildwood too long.
I fumble for my phone, intent on texting Mom, while I peer through the night to determine where the sound is coming from, the cadence like hoofbeats. The darkness of the woods is interrupted by a white glow. My heart beats faster, and my hands are slick. I try to click on Mom’s name, but I drop my phone, and it clatters through the branches to the ground.
As I climb down to the branch below, it cracks once in warning—but not soon enough for me to catch myself. I’m so surprised I don’t even shout as I fall, and my palms scrape against the bark, sending shooting pains down my arms. I land flat on my back, my head slamming against the ground, the force of the fall knocking the wind out of me. I fight to find a breath and scrunch my eyes shut against the glow that’s swiftly moving my way.
When I can finally breathe, the glow that was bright enough to bleed through my closed eyelids has dissipated, and the pounding on the earth has ceased. I open my eyes. My vision is blurry. All I can see is something bright and huge hovering over me. With a long, sharp, dagger-like….
As it leans toward me, I start to scream, but then my eyesight adjusts. I blink, seeing the single dagger-like horn splitting into two long, curved antlers. The shriek building in my throat turns into a relieved—though slightly hysterical—laugh.
It’s only a deer.
CHAPTER TWO
ACTUALLY, IT’S A big, bright, white stag, which, as far as I know, isn’t native to this area. The deer jumps at the sound of my laughter but doesn’t seem scared. It looks… ecstatic. And it’s not so much a deer as it is a horse… isn’t it? It has a rainbow-colored mane, gold cloven hooves, and those multi-pronged antlers situated behind its ears that appear to be sprouting from its rainbow mane.
Although its lips don’t move, I can clearly hear its voice in my mind. Hello!
Still giggle-wheezing in relief that I didn’t fall at the feet—hooves—of something too dangerous, I stay put on the ground and throw an arm over my eyes. When I finally catch my breath, I dare to remove my self-made blindfold.
