by N.M. Howell
I’m nobody. A street rat. Human. At least, that’s what I tell myself at night.
Being the only heir to the Otherworld throne, I saw first-hand the entitled and immoral lives the gods lived at the expense of the mortals. When my mother died, I escaped the Otherworld to live among humans. A silent nobody disguised as a street kid who roamed the city, far from the cursed life of the gods.
A plan that worked perfectly. Or so I thought.
When five breathtakingly gorgeous demi-gods claiming to be my Guardians showed up on my eighteenth birthday telling me my father had been killed and I was to be Queen, I had a feeling my time of freedom had run out.