Jet Darrow likes her men the same way she likes her dragons: fictional. 

Jet’s preferences get the middle finger when she learns the myths of our world are real, hidden by the Veil. Now she’s strapped with an equally stubborn dragon guide and brought to the atmospheric kingdom of Aeros. Worse, violent shadows pour from her skin and threaten to consume her any time her cortisol spikes.

When the magic-siphoning Spectre murders Aeros’s greatest asset, the kingdom’s survival falls to the one person who can’t wield a damn shadow puppet.

Her only hope is Rift Atlas, the moonlight-wielding heir to a blood-feud-hardened military nation. His power may work like hers, but Rift has no intention of tutoring the enemy, and he’s not setting foot on her floating island. However, his nation depends on Aeros’s air defense, so he offers a brutal ultimatum: abandon the clouds and train in his subterranean domain, Terra.

As the Spectre’s true motives surface and the cold war between Terra and Aeros nears a boiling point, Jet and Rift’s tension starts to feel a lot like treason. And fate is sounding a lot like “Fuck it.” If she wants to save both of her worlds, commanding the darkness will not be enough. Jet must become it.