Prologue

Arms crossed, I regard the locked door opposite the entrance to the northern tower, its stone face illuminated by a shard of silver light pierced through a window—a gift from the bitten moon sitting low in the sky. My pocket is heavy, the wall brisk against my back as I listen to Mersi descend the tower’s coiled stairwell.

Her steps are slow, my patience thin. I can smell the contents of the goblet she’s carrying from here.

Closing my eyes, I release a heavy sigh, balling my hands into fists. I swallow, drop my head forward, and slam it back against the wall.

Hard.

The bludgeon of pain ricochets through my skull, rattling my brain, and for a moment, I’m anywhere but here.

For just one fucking moment.

I drop my head and whip it back, repeating the process. Again.

Again.

“High Master?”

I look to the right. See Mersi emerge from the tower’s entrance, breath labored, the apron tied around her waist still blotched with a mosaic of food stains. She steps into the shaft of light, igniting her rosy hair, freckles stark against her pale skin.

Clearing her throat, she extends the crystal goblet. “I’m guessing you can take this off my hands?”

I glance at its blushed contents, wanting to snatch the thing and dash the liquid across the floor.

My gaze flicks up, catching the condescending glint in hers.

“Of course.” I relieve her of it—the stem fragile in my grip. One squeeze and it would snap. “Thank you.”

Two full words have never sounded so hollow.

Mersi gives me a curt nod.

I reach into my pocket and withdraw the necklace Aravyn gave me moments before I took her life, the crystal, once clear and scintillating, now black. So black, it has a cosmic pull; as though you could look into it and see your own horizonless oblivion.

I defiled Aravyn’s gift to her daughter—a shame I’ll always bear. Even so, I hold it out, chain bunched in my fist, the jewel swaying back and forth like a morbid pendulum.

Mersi’s gaze darts to the gem with wary curiosity. “For her?”

I nod.

“What does it do?”

Too much.

Too little.

“She’ll look ... different than she does now. Very different. But she’ll be safe to live a normal life. She must never take it off. Do you understand?”

Her eyes widen. “Never?”

“Correct.”

I’m not just hiding her from others, but also from herself.

“Do you intend on telling her about the proph—”

“No,” I snap. “There will be no speak of Gods under this roof. Or anything that might lead her toward the truth.”

No child should be forced to bear that weight.

Mersi’s jaw moves as she appears to chew on her response, staring at the necklace still dangling from my outstretched hand. “With all due respect,” she finally says, “you need to give that to her yourself.”

Blood crackling, I step toward her, jerking my hand forward. “Take the fucking necklace, Mersi. That’s an order.”

Lips clamped into a thin line, she meets my stern gaze, releasing a sharp exhale. “Pushy bastard,” she mutters, snatching the pendant.

I’m swift to pocket my clenched fist while she studies the debased jewel. The chain. Her attention seems to narrow on the clasp—perhaps noticing the color tone is lighter than all the other metal links. “Iron ...”

I nod. “You can remove the anklet I gave you when she arrived. I assume she’s been wearing it day and night?”

“Of course.” Her snippy response is quickly followed by a grave sigh. “I mean yes, High Master.” She dips into a half-hearted curtsey.

“Thank you.”

Spinning, I charge down the hall, barging through silver slants of moonlight.

“You save her, then insist on having nothing to do with her ...”

I halt at the bitter bite to Mersi’s words but keep my stare on the faraway end of the gloomy hall. Keep my hand firmly clasped around the fragile stem of the crystal goblet.

“Eight months since you brought her to the castle, and you’ve not seen her once. You can’t just throw a fractured child at me and wipe your hands of all future obligations.”

Slowly, I turn to meet her wary gaze.

For the first time, I notice the dark smudges beneath her eyes, the disheveled mess of her hair, the lack of color in her cheeks.

“You look tired,” I say, voice lowered to soften its edge. “If you’d like to resume your full-time position in the kitchen, I can find a replacement to step in and tend to the child’s needs.”

Fists swinging at her sides, she stalks forward. “I’m not tired of tending to the child’s needs. I love Orlaith like one of my own. It’s my heart that’s tired,” she chokes out, dashing away a tear.

I clear my throat. “I’ll find someone trustworthy enough to help. But if you’re asking me to be involved, I will not.”

“Stubborn man. She needs more.” Mersi shakes her head, stare beseeching. “There’s death in her eyes that doesn’t blink away. She’s broken, Rhordyn.”

A vicious spark flares in my gut.

I stride forward so fast liquid sloshes over my hand. “You think I don’t know that?” She recoils as I arch over her like a rioting storm cloud heavy with a deluge of self-hatred. “I am herroof—the shadow that dims her light and keeps the world from seeing that mark on her fucking shoulder. Nothing more.”

Mersi drops her stare to the floor. “The nightmares are getting worse.”

I open my mouth; close it ...

When she looks at me again, there’s fire in her eyes. “Sometimes I wish her screams weren’t silent, then maybe you’d notice.”

I notice. Feel her fear in the pit of my soul like a torched tree. It makes me want to rip the fucking world to shreds.

Makes me want to kill.

“I’ve taken to sharing the bed with her so I can hold her through the tremors,” Mersi continues, tone matter of fact.

Sighing, I look at the tower’s door.

I hate that fucking tower. This goblet.

Myself.

“She’s suffering, High Master. And you’re the only one who understands what she went through. What she lost.”

“I want nothing to do with the child.” I spear my gaze at the woman. “Nothing.”

“And when she grows old enough to ask questions?” She waves the necklace at me. “If she realizes you’ve been hiding her from herself? What then?”

I shrug. “She’ll hate me, no doubt.”

At least she’ll have lived.

“And you’re okay with that ...” She speaks slowly, as though choosing her words with care.

“Her hate is the only thing I’ll accept. That, and this,” I hiss, waving the goblet through the air.

Mersi’s gaze drops to her feet, a tension-filled silence strung between us.

“I’ll protect her. Give her the tools to protect herself. I’ll be her fucking storm if I have to. She’ll want for nothing—always. I can do all that without being involved.”

Mersi looks me right in the eye, fierce and brazen. “Everything is nothing if you’re in pieces, High Master. I think that’s something even you can understand.”

She spins on her heel before I have a chance to reply, black skirt swaying as she stalks toward the tower’s entrance, pausing a few steps from the door. Glancing back, her voice is fractured as she says, “She hides beneath furniture. Veers from the sun. Thrashes and digs her nails into my arms when I try to coax her out for a play in the grass.” Her face twists, words sharpen. “She won’t draw or smile or dance like a normal child her age.”

“Mersi—”

“Her tears no longer sparkle like they used to.”

I suck a breath and blow it out, feeling the blood drain from my face.

“I’m no medis, but she seems determined to follow the rest of her family to an early grave.”

The words are a sword through my sternum, and it’s an effort not to fold forward and vomit.

“You don’t wrap a wound without treating it first. It’ll do nothing but fester.” She shakes the necklace at me, pendant swinging. “You can’t protect her from herself.”

With that, she disappears up the tower’s stairwell, the echo of her footsteps attacking me as I chew on her words.

Choke on them.

Mersi’s right, of course. I can’t protect her from herself.

But I can try.