It still tore out his heart when she didn’t make a sound.
As he opened the door to leave, new sunlight painted the walls around him. The light did nothing to warm him, though. Because as dawn broke, something inside of him did, too.
Chapter 1
Vera
Mortise
Three Weeks Later
Vera’s toe caught the edge of a cobblestone and she pitched forward, the dagger she’d stolen from Tariq clenched painfully in her hand. Her heart pounded erratically as her stride hitched, but she managed to keep running.
She couldn’t afford to fall.
Tariq was chasing her, and she didn’t want to imagine what he would do if he caught her.
Though it was full dark, the streets of Krid were overrun with men, women, and children. Glowing lanterns and roaring bonfires lit the night, illuminating purple flags that fluttered overhead. The flags were decorations for a two-week holiday Salim had mentioned when they’d first arrived in the dirty Mortisian city. Laughter boomed as people celebrated the Dawn of Eyrinthia, and their festive mood created a horrible juxtaposition to the terror and guilt rushing through Vera’s body.
She shouldn’t have left Clare. Salim might kill her for attacking him with the garrote. At the very least, the mercenary leader would punish her. And they’d learned over the past few weeks just how cruel Salim could be.
“Out of my way!” Tariq’s snarl was swallowed nearly at once in the roar of the crowd. Even still, the sound of his voice—closer than before—shot her veins with ice. Her stomach churned as she dodged around a hulking man who shot her an irritated glare, but she didn’t slow.
Her lungs burned and sweat slicked her skin as she darted around a corner. This street was narrower, but just as crowded. Light spilled out of open doors, the taverns, shops, and homes all open to the night. Unfamiliar spices tickled her nose. Men and women hawked food and wares, drums beat and flutes trilled, and the foreign words of the Mortisian language swam around her. No one paid her more than a passing glance, and for once Vera was grateful for the indifferent crowds that choked the sprawling Mortisian city; getting lost in the sea of strangers might be her only chance of survival.
Her wrists stung as the rope binding them rubbed against her raw flesh. She hadn’t even had time to cut her bonds. She’d known the moment she’d run out of the inn that Clare’s stalemate would only last so long. That someone would chase after her.
Even before she’d heard him, she knew it would be Tariq. The mercenary had taken a horrible interest in her from the beginning. He’d been the one to abduct her during the ambush on the road, and he’d sought out any excuse to touch her ever since. His dark eyes had wandered her body freely, making his desire only too clear. She didn’t think she’d ever forget waking up during the night, shivering on the cold ground of the mercenary camp, only to find him staring at her. The mere memory made her skin prickle and her stomach roil. Tariq would follow her relentlessly, and he wouldn’t make her death easy, fast, or painless.
A growl vibrated behind Vera, and fear blasted through her. Tariq was gaining.
Adrenaline propelled her forward, but the shock to her exhausted body was taking its toll. Her strength was flagging. Every footfall brought a burst of pain. Blood pooled beneath the soles of her aching feet, and after weeks of having only enough food to survive, her entire body shook. She wouldn’t be able to run much longer. Unless she changed tactics, Tariq would catch her.
Panic sliced through her chest. She looked around wildly for a place to hide. Her first thought was the tavern on her left. It was brightly lit and full of people. She could try to hide among them.
But Tariq might expect that.
On her right, the darkened mouth of a narrow alley waited.
She hesitated for only a split second before diving into the alley.
The cramped space was rank with the stench of rotten food and worse, but she didn’t worry about what might lurk in the shadows; not when she knew exactly what kind of evil pursued her.
She tripped on some debris and nearly went down among a pile of splintered crates, but managed to catch herself against a large barrel. Pain flashed up her arm from the hit, but she ignored that as she scrambled behind a set of barrels and crouched down, her back against the cold brick wall of the alley.
Her lungs heaved for air and her knuckles screamed as she strangled the dagger in her hands.
If she was fated to die tonight, she swore she would take him with her.
The music and laughter from the nearby street drifted over her, the only sound other than her low and stuttered breaths. Then curt footsteps entered the alley.
Tariq.
Vera hunched lower behind the barrels, her stomach clenching painfully as she pinched her eyes closed.
Venn’s face was all she could see. His half-grin. His piercing eyes.
I’m sorry.
