Slowly, I step through the open door—
And stop.
I’m in someone’s bedchambers. A maid stands alongside the bed, remnants of a dropped breakfast tray scattered around her feet.
Lying in the bed is a man I know, but hardly recognize.
I last saw Arliss Vale over two years ago, before he was too sick to leave his home. He looks like a completely different person now. Tall and skinny, with yellow-tinted, sagging skin. His once dark hair is faded to white and thinning.
He’s aged decades over the course of just two years. Despite how old and frail he looks, the most concerning aspect of his appearance are his eyes: brown, glassy, and wide open; and his chest: perfectly still.
He’s dead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A VICIOUS GIRL
The once great, now late Arliss Vale is among the stars. Or burning in hell.
The entire mountain knows Arliss has been slowly sinking toward death for years. What they don’t know: someone helped drag him under. With poison.
The decurio have their theories, but my eyes are firmly fixed on his son—Opheran bastard Kaidren Vale.
Where did Bastard Vale learn the skills of leadership? According to my sources, it wasn’t at a Virdeian academy.
What makes him a man of honor? Certainly not hiding his status as an isha until it suited him.
Did Bastard Vale murder his father? Did he lie to us all about being an isha? Let’s just say, you can change your name and don Honorate robes, but once a bastard, always a bastard.
Fondly,
Shadow Queen
A gloved hand clamps over my mouth. His arm curls around my waist, yanking me against the heat of his body.
I shriek. It’s muffled, and all I’ve accomplished is tasting the leather of his gloves.
His arm slides up until his fingers curl around my throat and squeeze.
My legs flail as I scramble to recall his instructions.
First, I need him to release me.
I claw, raking the hand at my throat with my nails. His gloves absorb most of the impact, and his grip remains as firm as ever.
Next plan. I drive my elbow back, into the soft spot on his side.
He doesn’t release me, but he grunts. Good. It hurt. So, I do it again. And again. Enough that he switches tactics, grabbing for my swinging arm and unlatching his hold around my waist.
I stomp my foot on his, hard as I can. It draws a hiss. The fingers locked around my throat loosen.
I scramble free, taking deep gasps of air. He’s taller than me. Faster than me. I have no weapons. To escape, I need to incapacitate him.
My foot kicks out, slamming into his knee. It buckles, and I kick him again, this time right in the groin.
Flynn falls to his knees. I rear back to strike him across the face, but he snatches my wrist. “I think that was more than enough, Mira.” His voice is strained, but he gives me a small grin. “Good job.”
I’m out of breath, and my heart is still racing. “Thanks.” I hold out a hand.
