Netharis sits beside me, smiling as he studies me. Waiting.
The silver thread between Nalena and I pulls taut—and snaps.
She didn’t run.
She couldn’t run.
A scream rings out.
Myscream.
More pain.
Warmth washes over my hands as I grasp at my stomach.
It grows mind-shattering, the pain, and I collapse against the headboard. Everything… for nothing. The severance of our bond leaves me numbed and I dare to glance down.
I cannot feel it.
I cannot feel the demon emerging from my flesh.
But I see it. It’s going to tear me asunder and claim me for the hells.
I lift my gaze, meeting Netharis’ stare.
He stares back, the wicked grin on his face not reaching his eyes.
CHAPTER ONE
Ves
One thousand, two hundred forty-five years
following the evening of Ashdown
Sprinting across the rooftops as fast as my legs will allow, my laughter trails behind me, along with Eve. It’s one of those rare sunny days in Ollora and as summer begins to shift into autumn, I find myself wanting to make the most of days like this one.
I cannot be blamed for today.
If anyone is to blame, it should be Cyran.
Had he not made the mistake of leaving this week’s docking schedule on his desk in plain view, I wouldn’t be here. Alternatively, if he hadn’t dragged me from the library to his office to lecture me about the last time I slipped from the castle without his company, I would have never seen it.
Thus Cyran is to blame.
Twice over.
I can already see his unamused glare and it causes me to laugh harder.
Springing over a small parapet, Eve shouts something behind me but between the wind, my laughter, and the distance between us, her words are lost. It’s easier to traverse Ollora this way. Much easier than fighting through crowded squares and streets.
I may earn a few muttered words and arched brows by those who notice, but to them I’m no one. A nobody with no name, no title, no House, no contract. The city folk may think me a rascal, perhapseven a nuisance—one the North Docks district has come to know over the summer. I tend to perch myself on the same rooftop near the cargo pier to watch.
But there’s one thing Ollorans won’t call me…
Daughter of death.
I am not Netharis’ spawn in this realm. Or at least, I’m not known as such. And gods, is that freeing. I’m sure it’s a matter of time before that changes. Until then, I’m soaking up my freedom like these last warm days of summer.
