Prologue
March 1880
“You look ridiculous.”
Fourteen-year-old Morgan Strathmore froze, familiar rage rising within him at the sound of his stepfather’s voice. He slowly turned, the chilly breeze atop the castle’s battlements ruffling the mask and cape he wore.
The Earl of Winters stood a dozen feet away, an infuriating smirk on his handsome features. He shook his dark head as he took a few steps closer. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”
Morgan and his brothers, Lucien and Adrian, had been tormented and abused by Winters since their mother had married him two years ago. Recently, after the earl had given Lucien a particularly bad beating, they’d come up with a plan to fight back. They’d envisioned a masked avenger, whom they’d decided to name Prometheus. Lucien, who was the oldest, would don the mask and, with his height, they’d thought perhaps they could scare the earl into leaving them alone.
That had been the plan anyway. Morgan’s only role had been to make the costume. He’d always had an artistic streak, and he’d put all his time and energy into the endeavor. It had helped to have a plan, to imagine an end to their suffering.
He’d come up here to test out the costume to ensure that one could run and jump in it, unhindered. He had been enjoying the way the heavy satin cape swirled around him in the wind, but now, he felt as ridiculous as Winters had claimed. He was far too slim and short to scare the man, and by allowing himself to get caught wearing it, he’d ruined their plans.
Bitter tears stung his eyes as he longed for his real father, who had heroically died saving him and his twin, Adrian, when a fire had swept through their home when they were ten. Adrian had been badly burned, and Winters was especially cruel to him, which hurt Morgan even more than if he had been the one to bear the brunt of it.
Winters closed the distance between them and gripped his shoulder painfully. “I’m talking to you, boy. What are you doing up here?”
Morgan shook his head and tried to pull away, but the earl held him too tightly.
“Is this what it’s come to? You’ve taken to wearing a mask to hide that ugly face of yours?” Winters laughed darkly. “It won’t work. No one will ever love you, looking as you do.”
Realizing that his stepfather had mistaken him for Adrian, Morgan’s fury grew. “How can you say such things? It isn’t Adrian’s fault he was burned. It’s hard enough for him! You don’t have to make it worse!”
Winters’ eyes widened, and he snatched off the mask. An evil grin twisted his lips. “Coming to the little monster’s defense, eh? I suppose that’s commendable. But he’s an embarrassment to me. You all are.”
Red filled Morgan’s vision and, before he could think better of it, he pulled his fist back and swung at his stepfather’s face with every ounce of strength in his body. Pain radiated up his arm as he connected with the earl’s jaw, but the satisfaction was short-lived as he realized the futility of what he’d done.
Luckily, Winters released him, pressing his hand to his face in shock. Morgan took the opportunity to whirl away and sprint toward the opposite end of the roof, toward the door that led back inside the tower.
For a few moments, he thought he was going to make it. He was within a yard of the door when Winters grabbed him from behind. He spun Morgan toward him and punched him in the stomach with a force that stole Morgan’s breath. While Morgan was still trying to regain some air in his lungs, the earl swung him over his shoulder, knocking him breathless again, and strode to the ramparts, standing precariously close to the edge.
Morgan felt a fear unlike anything he’d ever known as he stared at the dizzying drop beneath him. He had no doubt that Winters would pitch him over.
“I could throw you off,” the earl snarled. “Only your brothers would miss you.”
And my mother. But even as Morgan thought it, he wasn’t certain it was true. If his mother had truly loved him, lovedanyof them, she wouldn’t stand by and let this man hurt them.
He closed his eyes, sudden calm coming over him. He could not remain passive. He had to fight. If he died tonight, he was taking this bastard with him. At least then, his brothers would be safe.
Taking a deep breath, he thrust with all his might against Winters’ back, breaking the hold the man had on his legs. Morgan came off the earl’s shoulder with such momentum that when he landed face-first on the roof, his ribs seemed to snap, shooting incredible pain through his chest. Before he could scramble away, the cape around his shoulders yanked at his neck so hard that he thought his head would come off, pulling him across the roof until the parapets stopped him. He lifted his head to find that when he’d kicked away from the earl, the man must have lost his balance. He’d fallen off the edge, and the only thing keeping him from plunging to his death was his grip on Morgan’s cape.
“Pull me up,” Winters growled, trying to reach high enough to grab the ledge without releasing his hold on the cape, which was slowly choking the life out of Morgan.
Morgan tried to imagine a scenario where he could actually do as the earl asked. How could he pull up the much-heavier earl with the cape choking him? Was there really a choice to make? He had to save himself. Gasping, Morgan fought to unfasten the heavy satin from his throat so he could breathe. It came loose suddenly, and the earl cried out hoarsely as he fell.
The sound of his stepfather hitting the ground far below reverberated in Morgan’s ears as he lay struggling for air. The realization of what had just happened washed over him, leaving him stunned and terrified. He hoisted himself up and looked over, a strange sort of elation filling him when he saw that the man who had made his and his brothers’ lives hell for the past few years would not do it anymore.
The Earl of Winters was dead.
Then an icy fear swept through him as he realized that he was the one who had killed him.
