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“Enough games,” I snap. “Gerald Walters. You are formally accused of treason against Burkewood Kingdom. Will you face your accusation like a man, or will it be the dungeons?”

Something unexpected enters his eyes, and I realize he’s going to give me the violence I desire. Anticipation courses through me, so thick and sweet I could choke on it.

He reaches into his coat and pulls a shiny black pistol free. He locks wide, panicked eyes on me as he starts to slowly move to the side, circling me. “I just wanted out. I have family on the outside. I wanted a new life.”

“You swore an oath of service,” I say. I grip my Blade, feeling right in a way I only feel with my weapon in hand. I sling it free of the holster, holding it out, thumb ready to release the steel blade tucked into the barrel of the gun.

“Fuck you and fuck your kingdom,” shouts Gerald. “You’re all corrupt. It’s all shit! All of it!”

I don’t disagree, but I’m not here to argue politics. I’m not even here to exact justice. I’m just here to feed the darkness in me. “Enough,” I say, releasing the blade with a satisfying click. The weapon twitches in my hand as eight inches of cold steel slip out of the barrel.

Gerald does the same and makes a wild, predictable lunge toward me. I swipe his blade away with my own and bury the point in his chest. And faster than Gerald’s last heartbeat, it’s over.

He’s alive long enough to widen his eyes, look down, and then sigh with relief or disappointment--I’ll never know which.

My blade slides out as he slumps lifelessly to the ground. I feel a pang of remorse for the man, to know he gave his life so that I could temporarily appease the beast within me, but he doesn’t deserve my pity. He crossed the Kingdom when he broke his oath, and he knew justice would find him.

But justice is supposed to be cold. Indifferent.

I use his jacket to clean the blood from my weapon and holster it. My heart pounds and my breath comes quickly, not from exertion but from the rush, from the sudden sense of relief and freedom I have when the darkness recoils deeper inside me to wait until it becomes hungry for more.

Titus pushes off the wall, walking a slow circle around the dead man. He carefully avoids getting any of the growing pool of blood on his handcrafted boots, but his calm face contorts in temporary rage when he kicks Gerald’s motionless body. “Scum,” he barks down at the body. “You disgrace your name.” Titus spits, looking up to meet my eyes. He holds eye contact just long enough to challenge me.

Just long enough to give me a fucking excuse.

My arm pistons out and I grip the front of his shirt, dragging him toward me until we’re nose to nose. I’m about to remind him of his place, to tell him brother or not, I’ll put steel in his belly all the same, but instead I shove him back, shaking my head. I don’t know when I became this man--a man who kills out of hunger and a man who spurns his own family. I can feel myself grasping for the light, reaching for all I’m worth and still coming up short.

Titus straightens his shirt with a single, angry tug. He watches me step back into the restaurant with apparent calm, but I don’t fail to notice the way his hand twitches toward his Blade. Family or not, I know better than to let my guard down around Titus.

Maybe he’s right about one thing. A woman in my bed might help to fight back the darkness in me. Or maybe she would only awaken it.3ElizabethWhen I step out of the limo, I step into a veritable fairytale. We’re parked at the end of a long, beautifully cobbled pathway that paints a straight line through a gorgeous garden. The path ends at a huge, ornamental gate and a wall at least thirty feet high. Even the height of the gate barely conceals a building as wide as a skyscraper is tall that dominates the space in front of me. It’s so tall that it blacks out the stars in a series of vertical peaks and arches. Flickering yellow light winks out at me from more windows than I can count.

A sweet breeze sweeps around me, carrying the smell of delicious, savory food and oddly enough--the smell of campfires.

I turn toward Calian, who grins smugly as he leans against the car, watching me take it all in. His thick hair blows around his head in the breeze and I can see the dancing yellow lights reflected back to me in his eyes. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks.

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