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Prologue
Elyse collapsed onto the cobblestone in a bloody heap, blue smoke dissipating around her. An arrow protruded from her arm—an arrow fired by Killian. Her vision blurred, light and dark crashing together. She squeezed her eyes shut as she dragged herself toward the hazy structure before her. She had lost so much blood. Her magic was nearly depleted. Yet she managed to raise her uninjured arm and rap meager knocks on the door.
She didn’t know if the city street was empty, or if a passerby might spot her, bleeding and sobbing. She didn’t care. She had lost her home, her business, and the respect of the man she cared for. And she was going to lose her life if someone didn’t help her soon.
The door opened soundlessly—or perhaps her hearing was starting to fade. Dark shapes moved before her, ebbing in and out of reality. Shoes, she realized. Pointed, black shoes, and layered skirts sweeping across the floor.
“Elyse!” She barely heard a woman’s gasp. Then, a moment later, “Fetch the master!”
Elyse didn’t know if she groaned or screamed as the woman hauled her over the threshold. All she knew was that every movement was excruciating. Cobblestone was replaced by cool tile, and Elyse splayed herself against its embrace. Part of her wanted to give up, to let it all end here on this cold, hard floor. Surely death would be favorable to this. She focused on the way the ceramic felt against her cheek, ignoring the woman’s comforting words.
“It’s all right, dear. It’s all going to be fine.”
If Elyse weren’t utterly broken, she might have laughed. Nothing would be all right, not after today. She was a criminal on the run, and Killian would never stop searching for her. She’d seen it in his face—his absolute devastation.
No, it would not be all right.
Just before Elyse closed her eyes and let darkness overtake her pain, the woman’s promising whisper met her ears.
“Don’t worry. Master Jaime will be here soon.”
Chapter 1
- Killian -
The arrow hurdled toward Elyse as she stopped and flung her hand toward the ground, smashing a blue potion on the forest floor. Blue smoke erupted around her, and in the blink of an eye, Elyse and the arrow both disappeared.
The same dream—the same nightmare—haunted Killian every night for two damn months. He awoke each morning, gasping and drenched in sweat, the memory fresh in his mind.
He sat up straight in bed, his breaths ragged, and tried to calm his frantic mind. He’d spent so much of his childhood sleeping in this same bed, waking night after night from terrifying dreams of his siblings’ deaths. That pain had finally faded, only to be replaced by a different sort of aching—one that he could only blame himself for.
His fingers trailed absentmindedly over the scar on his chest. If hearts could scar the same way skin did, what would his heart look like? Would it be worse than the pale flesh that marred his chest? Elyse had shattered his faith in himself, in humanity even. She had broken him so thoroughly, fracturing his life into little more than fury and numbness.
He’d been a well-respected lieutenant in the Royal Guard, and now he was reduced to nothing more than a grown man living with his mother. Mrs. Southwick told him every day that things would turn around, that he wasn’t disgraced, and that he would find his way. But he heard the whispers behind his back on the rare occasions he ventured out into the city.
“That’s Lieutenant Southwick, the one who was tricked by that murderous witch.”
“Don’t you mean former lieutenant?”
“What would his father say?”
Indeed, Killian had wondered that same thing himself. For once, he was glad for his father’s passing. He didn’t know how he could have faced him if he were still alive.
It wasn’t that Edwin Southwick was an unkind man. He would have patted Killian’s shoulder and consoled him, perhaps even offered him a story about a mistake he had made in his youth. He would have told Killian to pull himself up, dust himself off, and get on with life. But it wasn’t anything his father would have said or done that would have been so unbearable. Merely being in his presence would have driven Killian to insanity. His father had been so proud the day Killian joined the guard, following in his footsteps. To have been dishonorably released from service, though—he wouldn’t have been able to look his father in the eyes.
And the worst part of it all was that he had nothing to show for himself. Even after two months of searching, he didn’t know where Elyse was or if she was even alive. Had his arrow pierced her? Surely it must have, or else it wouldn’t have disappeared in the smoke—right? And if the arrow had pierced her, then where? Was it a superficial wound that could easily be patched? Or had he killed the woman who betrayed him?
The woman you fell in love with, echoed the voice in the back of his mind.
“Killian! Breakfast!” His mother’s voice called from downstairs, wrenching him from the same circular thoughts that tormented him day in and day out.
Killian rolled over and glared out the window. From this angle, he couldn’t see anything except for a bright, sunny sky and the occasional bird flittering by. He could hear children laughing and playing, though. Their happiness mocked him.
It wasn’t too long ago that his mother’s home had been filled with children’s laughter. Georgie, the boy she’d taken in after Killian found him mixed up with the wrong crowd, had made several friends around the neighborhood. At one time, Killian had enjoyed mentoring Georgie, acting as an older brother to him. But after Elyse’s failed arrest, he’d hardly had time for the boy.
The arrangement was never meant to be permanent though. And now that Georgie had been taken in by a kind family a few streets over, Killian and his mother were alone again.
“Killian!” Mrs. Southwick called up the stairs, the sweetness slipping away in her tone.
