Marked

On the island of Riganos, on the last day of summer, any man who pays the tribute must be allowed to join the bride hunt.

The women get a head start. Whoever is captured is bound to her husband for one year.

I chose him — the winged man with golden eyes and amber skin who landed on our shores like something out of a myth.

But when he flies me to the mist-shrouded spires of his island, I discover that not everyone wants me there. His own family has turned against him, and deep beneath the ancient temple, something dark and long-buried is clawing its way back to the surface…

My new husband is wary about binding our souls because he’s terrified of what it would mean for me if he doesn't survive what's coming.

But I will not let the man I chose be destroyed. Not by his family, not by an ancient evil, and not by his own stubborn, beautiful heart.

Continue the epic, emotional fantasy romance that gives new life to the Icarus myth. Set in a magical ancient world where gods are real and contracts are sealed with the blood of future generations, this sweeping love story is filled with breathtaking danger, betrayal, and spicy, soul-deep passion.

I don’t know why I linger on this headland as if I really do believe Achiron owes me.
The bride hunt is a risk but it’s also my choice. I want to begin my adulthood somewhere far away, where food is abundant and taking my breakfast doesn’t steal from my little brother’s plate.
Maybe my new husband will die tragically and leave me a vast fortune. Or, maybe he’ll be villainous and I’ll have to flee in the night. Maybe he’ll be ordinary, but not fit for marriage. Maybe we’ll have a magical love and stay together forever.
Maybe, maybe, maybe…
If things go in a bad direction, I can free myself after the year. As long as I don’t end up on Halonnesos, where it seems the brides do not return, I can go anywhere and do anything. I can even come to next year’s bride hunt and try for another husband.
The last of the morning fog dissipates, revealing the uneasy horizon and restless ocean, and still, no ghost arrives at the shore.
I start to turn away.
Something flickers against the horizon. White, like a bird.
I hesitate.
Is that a boat?
The others on the shore straighten and shade their eyes. It’s not my imagination. They see what I do, a small boat coming toward us. Incredible. Was it so small that Achiron overlooked it? Or…
A single man guides it toward the shore. He’s not rowing. He stands upright, leaning against the mast. The white sail has an unusual, winged shape—
He steps forward, and there is no mast. His body is the mast! The wing-shaped sails fold in and disappear.
He hops to the bow. The little boat coasts unnaturally across the water and glides onto the pebbled beach. He leaps, too large a distance to be covered by any mortal, and lands lightly on the dry rocks, then pulls the boat above the high-tide mark and straightens.
He is a man.
But…
His skin is dark amber-gold, and his hair is white-blond. He wears a white tunic tied at the waist, knee-length pants, and leather sandals. He slings a roughly woven sack over one shoulder and speaks to the nearest woman.
She gapes, frozen with her hands full of dripping shells.
He frowns and addresses an elder collecting seaweed.
The elder puts up her bent hands and bows her head, hiding her wrinkled eyes.
He huffs and looks around.
The others either stare blankly or avert their eyes.
He spies the path and climbs it, winding up to the headland.
Where I am.
Oh!
I should get out of here, move on, before—
He comes suddenly around the bend, moving much faster than I expect, and he’s right in front of me.
We both stop abruptly.
I am in the presence of a legendary creature.
He wears the shape of a man but the skin of a sun-burned god. His eyes are darker than ours, amber like precious stones from the mountains beyond the seas, and a white crescent moon marks the center of his forehead. His white sails are invisible now, but I know for sure they weren’t cloth.
He is an icarus, one of a race of men who accepted the gifts of the gods and flew too close to the sun. Under his tunic, on his shoulder blades, it’s said you can still see the burns.
“Islander.” His voice is oddly soft, and he speaks the ritual language of our oldest gods. “The bride hunt?”
I lift my hand in the direction that Petraya and Zekso went.
A white-gold light zips around the outer ring of his amber irises.
My heart stops.
He looks the way I’ve pointed, at the path into the hills where the ceremony will soon begin. “Enaksi.”
My automatic response, parayalo, parts my lips, but the word does not emerge. It hangs silent in the empty air above my tongue.
He moves into the brush. His bag rests flat on his back. No hints of wings or scars are visible under his tunic. The brush stops moving. He’s gone.
On the beach below, the women stare up at the cliffs.
At me.
I look back at them.
Yes, we all saw him. We were seen and spoken to by a mythic beast. Of course he passed by Achiron. They are the same kind, only this icarus happens to look more humanlike because of our common ancestor.
And he has gone to the bride hunt…
The rising sun makes a gold rim on the edge of the mountain. The wind whistles, and insects buzz low in the dried leaves.
The hunt is imminent.
I will not be an extra mouth for my family to feed.
And so, I run.