“Casualties?” Father barked, drawing more attention from the crowd.
“None, Your Majesty, but…” The guard backed away from the fury emanating from my father.
“Butwhat?”
Far off, a bird’s shrill cry rang out. Not the cinderhawk from before. This was smaller, high-pitched, and urgent. A scattering of birds erupted from the orchard above the village.
“They’ve stolen all the children,” the guard hissed.
Father’s voice grew tight with what anyone else would think was anger. I recognized fear.
“Triple the guard,” he bellowed, waving his arms in the air. “Search the woods, the surrounding villages, the roads leading south. I want those children found and the rebels executed at dawn.”
A scream pierced through the crowd. Mae’s face twisted as she crumpled to the ground. “They’re gone. The children are gone!”
The villagers erupted. People scattered, shrieking out in terror. Guards shouted through the cries of dismay.
The man stood again at the edge of the crowd, his cinderhawk on his shoulder.
Watchingme.
The noise around us fell away as the promise in his stare sunk into me.
With a nod, he turned and vanished into the uproar.
The wall I’d built between duty and desire cracked straight down the middle.
As I started to go to Mae, Father’s hand shot out, latching onto my upper arm with enough force to make me wince.
“Stay where you are,” he said. “We must present unity in crisis.”
Since that day in the garden, I’d been the perfect daughter, the perfect princess. I’d worn this wretched mask and played my part in this horrifying ceremony.
I would not force myself to pretend any longer.
“No,” I snarled.
Father’s eyes widened. “Amarissa?—”
I yanked my arm from his grasp and leaped offthe platform, pushing past startled elders and villagers, not caring about the whispers erupting around me.
I dropped to my knees in front of Mae, gathering her into my arms.
“My poor boy,” she sobbed into my shoulder. “Leo’s been taken by the rebels.”
“We’ll get him back. I swear.”
My father’s gaze burned into my spine, promising consequences I couldn’t imagine. I’d publicly defied him. I’d chosen compassion over ceremony. A friend over a crown.
There would be a price to pay for my defiance.
But as Mae’s tears soaked through my robe, I vowed I would gladly pay it.
3
AMARISSA
The enormous open room where we held the Ball of Remembrance glittered like a crown jewel, all gold leaf and crystal chandeliers throwing prismatic light across the marble floor. It was a celebration of wealth while the village below still smelled of burned flesh. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
