Chapter One
The White Light
Coarse strands of rope twist through my fingers as I haul myself even higher up the tower. My fingers thread right through it and I realize the rope hanging from the window isn’t a rope at all but … human hair.
The night wind whips cruelly against me, pushing my small frame against the side of the disintegrating brick wall. My pale locks sting across my cheeks. I clench my jaw and lift my gaze higher to the window with the blinking light. It’s unnatural. The white light burns brightly into the dark sky before fading into nothingness.
I heave another breath as my boots shift against the wall and I pull myself up the ancient tower. Rocks scrape and crumble beneath my every move, falling away with ease. A stinging numbness sets into my thin fingers and I’m starting to wish I had stolen that drunk’s coat before I left the bar.
The way he spoke about the unseen tower miles out of town, the tales he told of the wealth that rests within it, had my feet moving before he’d even slurred a word of warning.
No one’s ever been able to warn me of anything, though. So what if I’m an orphan? So what if I’m not tall enough or strong enough? So what if I’m a girl? So what if I’m too pretty to be taken seriously?
That’s never stopped me before, and it certainly isn’t going to stop me from claiming the prize at the top of this fortress.
Solid brick greets my nails as I dig into the opening of the window. A burning breath stings my lungs. I throw my leg over the ledge and slip inside without a sound.
The light’s gone now. Darkness veils my sight. The long hair that lead me up the tower is tied off on a rusting hook. Next to the hook is something white. Something familiar. Something that makes my skin crawl just looking at it.
A human skull.
I turn away, rejecting the sight of it. My shoulders square and I pull the sword from my belt. The weight of it settles my nerves. It was my father's. Before I was a thief, I was just a pretty little girl with a promising future ahead of her. After my father’s death was when I learned all the things that made me the resilient woman I am today.
His blade helped mold me even without his presence.
Something in the shadows shifts, my gaze sweeps every inch of the dark room.
“You should leave. Now,” a deep voice warns. But he’s too late.
A short dagger glints in the moonlight. I barely have time to see the shine of it before it quickly sinks into my side.
Horrified gasps part my lips and my brows pull together in anger and confusion.
The attacker slips the dagger from my flesh as quickly as it came. My fingers slide slickly across my skin as I press hard against the wound.
Hot blood pools through my fingertips. My heart thrashes in my chest and I just know.
It’s fatal.
Painfully, my jaw clenches as a scarred and twisting face reveals itself to me.
“You should have listened to our little Prince, love.” His gruff voice crawls through the small room. Shadows hide his features from me, but he tilts his head to the corner of the room at the mention ofour little Prince.
I breathe hard before raising my father’s sword with more strength than I intend. I plunge it into the man, railing it through his abdomen. I don’t stop until it’s all the way through his wide body, clinking against the brick wall behind him.
His glossy eyes hold mine, and my lips purse firmly as I hold his stare.
It’s a look that screamsfuck off.It’s a look I usually reserve for clingy boyfriends, but I suppose it works here as well.
Even as I bleed out, I’ll cling to that false sense of strength I always seem to hold.
I don’t have the energy to retrieve the blade from his frame as he sinks to the floor with a solid thud. My vision blurs, my breaths becoming shorter and shorter. It’s an effort just to take shallow gasps of air.
I’ve seen death enter a man's eyes before with a vacant and fearful shine. I’ve seen his life slip through his fingertips.
It won't be long now …
“Get the key,” someone whispers. His voice circles the room.
