Page 1 of Edge of Stars

CHAPTER ONE

KARA

“You’re a miserable excuse for a bride, Kara Valari.”

My sister’s tone, meant as playful, is threaded with enough of her real meaning to excuse my attempt at a laugh. A mostly failed one.

“I won’t tell Madame Voracity if you don’t.”

“Won’t tell me what?”

Kell joins me in whipping semipanicked sights to the doorway of the small dressing room where we’re hiding—ermmm, preparing—ourselves for the upcoming festivities. Events that, according to our new guest, should coalesce into the happiest day of my life.

How I wish I could prove the woman right. But Madame Voracity, for all her glory and notoriety and longstanding relationship with our family, doesn’t—and cannot—know what today is actually all about. Her image is larger than life, but she’s not. She’s a normal human being, just like the majority of the guests who swoon at the Pacific Ocean view while strolling toward the cliffside chapel across the patio.

They all have to keep believing they’re bound for the biggest industry party this decade.

Though right now, that’s far from Maximus’s and my biggest stress.

That honor is in the hands of the other wedding guests. The demigods, gods, and goddesses who mix into the crowd undetected, save for the otherworldly beauty that’s undoubtedly getting them some curious glances from LA’s elite.

It’s the largest gathering of Olympians this century—and probably the twenty-five or so before. And we’re determined to turn it into the largest peace summit the pantheon has ever known.

“We were only saying that you’ve truly outdone yourself, madame.”

Kell for the win on the potential sticky with the designer who’s reminding me of a well-accessorized partridge. Madame probably meant well, dressing in something close to Mother’s chosen color palette for everything, but her dress has decorative overlays shaped like wings, and her strappy heels are natural conspirators for the birdlike steps.

“I hope Maximus is steeled and ready,” my sister adds with sugary diplomacy. “Because he’ll be focusing on keeping his eyeballs in his head from the first sight of this girl.”

“Creepy but oddly sweet,” I mutter, though I’m distracted by my buzzing phone. As I expect—and hope—it’s from the man who turns my chest into a butterfly rave from the sight of his words alone.

My hotter-than-sin fiancé.

You ready to do this, little demon?

I tilt a goofy grin at his avatar on my screen, a photo I snapped when we were taking our golf cart ride to El Capitan Beach on the gorgeous evening in which he proposed. The sight of his windswept hair and brilliant blue gaze brings a perfect burst of bravery for my silly reply.

Did you have to remind me of that last part before we march to an altar while every major player from Hollywood and Olympus watches?

His dancing dots last a mercifully short time.

Heaven didn’t kill us for it during rehearsal.

I tap an answer, wishing it could match my original cheek.

But now heaven is the last of our concerns. Why did everyone have to be here?

Again, wonderfully short-lived dots.

Would you feel better if we met to go over the plan once more? There’s time…

My smile spreads wider. Incredible man. If he were standing in front of me, I’d kiss him for all I was worth. Just the inner vision of it is enough to move my fingers again.

Of course it would. But Kell and Madame V are still in here.

So we go to the backup plan.

You have a backup plan for discussing the big plan?