Violet’s terror-filled scream pierced the air, urging him to run faster. He shoved past the broken door of his rooms and sprinted across the sitting room. “Violet!”
Roman burst into his bedroom and her tortured screams grew louder. The vacant room stood eerily still, save for Violet’s screams ricocheting off the walls. “Violet?” Roman dove to the ground and peered under the bed.
She lay on her stomach, screaming and sobbing until she noticed him. Her hand reached for him, and her voice trembled. “Are you going to leave me?”
Roman shook his head and wrapped his hand around hers. “Never.”
“Then why did you?” Her words pierced his heart like a well-aimed sword.
Why did you?
Why did you?
Why did you?
Adecayed hand grabbed her from the other side and ripped her away. “No!” he screamedandshot to his feet.
He watched helplessly as a hideous man dragged a dagger across her neck. Roman dove across the bed, but the man vanished. Gathering Violet into his arms, Roman rested his head against hers, and for the first time in years, he wept.
Violet’s death violently tore Roman from the nightmare. His sweat-slicked body stuck to the sheets, and he kicked to untangle himself from the covers.
Every night Roman dreamed of that day, and every night, the nightmares worsened. In the past, he’d woken up before Violet died, but tonight he’d watched his greatest fear unfold. The image of her smooth neck blooming with red and the light draining from her terrified eyes burned itself into his memory.
What if the gods are trying to warn me?
With that grisly thought, he dressed quickly, donned his boots, and glamoured himself invisible. Roman made his way to the compound, taking care not to make noise when he passed the guards.
He stood in front of the Maekins’ cottage and told himself to go home.
In the Tropical Kingdom, homes had large, open vents to cool the interior with fresh air, but iron bars protected the homes from unwanted visitors and animals. Right now, he hated the ingenious design and tried every unbarred window he could reach.
Each locked window chipped away at his hope, until the window to their laundering room slid open without resistance.
Roman hoisted himself onto the sill and quietly climbed inside. He only needed to confirm she was alive and well, then he would leave. He’d not expected her peaceful, sleeping form to calm the raging storm inside him.
Standing beside her bed, watching as she slept, brought him more peace than he’d felt in a year. His fingers twitched, itching to reach out and touch her to make sure this wasn’t another dream.
He spun around at the sound of movement behind him, having forgotten Vivian slept across the room. The other Maekin sister rolled over, mumbled something in her sleep, and fell back into a deep slumber.
I need to leave.
But he couldn’t. Roman eased the dressing table chair to Violet’s beside. After lowering himself onto the worn-out cushion, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching her sleep, but eventually his lids grew heavy. If he fell asleep, he didn’t think his glamour would hold to conceal him.
Then he left, vowing to never return.
Except he did return.
Every night.
* * *
SIX MONTHS LATER
Roman wandered out of the trees and stalked across the shore toward Violet. She looked beautiful with her long hair billowing in the breeze. One day he’d be able to join her without glamour, but for now, he’d resigned to watching her in secret.
After pouring over every book in the palace library, he’d found nothing of use about mate bonds, but he’d not give up until his father forced him to marry Vivian. As it was, he’d already asked his parents to extend their engagement another year. Instead of marrying at twenty-two, they’d marry at twenty-three. His father had said no, but to both his and Roman’s surprise, his mother said yes. The king knew better than to go against his wife, and that was that.
