And not getting tortured for the rest of my life would definitely be a bonus.
Quickly, I crossed the room and grabbed the skull, hands trembling. It was eerily smooth, as if someone had taken a stone to it in order to brush away the imperfections. For a moment, I stood there in the middle of the hidden library room, clutching an ancient skull to my chest. This was probably one of my worst ideas yet...and that was saying something.
The last thing I wanted to become was my father. Every time he got backed into a corner, he stole or he ran. Often both.
And here I was, repeating his actions.
But I didn’t really have another choice.
The last thing I was going to do was get myself caught. Forhiscrimes.
Suddenly, the door burst open. The wood shattered beneath the force of the guard’s boot. Breath hitching, I stumbled back and hugged the skull to my chest. The guard stormed in, all thick muscular legs and broad chest. His armor undeniably identified him as one of the prince’s personal guards. Glinting golden breastplates stamped with the royal crest—a mountain lion screaming in rage. A matching helmet clung to his face, hiding everything but his eyes. But I’d seen him before. I recognized the way he waltzed into the room as if he were the king himself. It was the same guard who had seized my mother all those years ago.
It was Stavros. The guard who had been tracking me for days.
His golden eyes glinted as he stalked toward me. “There’s nowhere for you to run this time, Aradia Galatas. You’re wanted for crimes of high treason, and the prince demands punishment. Punishment is what he shall get.”
“I didn’t do it,” I whispered.
“Oh yeah?” He narrowed his eyes. “Then, who did?”
I mashed my lips together. As angry as I was at my father—as much as I hated him for abandoning me once again—he was blood. I could never do to him what he’d done to me. I wouldn’t point my finger his way, even if it would save me. Misplaced loyalty...it was going to get me killed one day.
When I didn’t answer, the guard sneered. “That’s what I thought. Now, put down your little skull. You’ve been caught Aradia. No need to make this more difficult than it has to be.”
Hereallythought I would give in that easily.
I met his sneer with one of my own.
And then—because I definitely wasn’t going to be able to smuggle the thing out—I threw the skull right into the guard’s face.
Unfortunately, Stavros was wearing a helmet, so the skull merely shattered when it made contact with the steel. Without even thinking, I snatched another skull from the shelf and stumbled back.
And then the world seemed to…stop.
Time shuddered around me, the guard’s outstretched hand hanging in the air. A strange electricity crackled against my skin and brushed the hair on my arms. The sensation of water flowed across my back. Gasping, I whirled to face the shelf, certain a new enemy had somehow sneaked inside this room. One who could wield magic. The prince’s mage?
But there was nothing before me but the shelves. And the skulls.
Frowning, I reached out to touch the wall behind the skulls. My fingers went straight through. The wood surrounding my hands melted like paint.
What the hell was going on?
Was this some sort of hidden door?
Another passageway! The gods bless this creepy-ass library.
I had no idea what the hell I’d find on the other side, but it had to be better than this. And I wasn’t about to wait around to see what would happen when this weird time-warp thing ended.
With a deep breath, I plunged through the wall.
Sunlight blinded me. The scent of rain and leaves burned away the cloying scent of dust and fear. Leaves crunched beneath my feet. I blinked, trying to make sense of where I was. All around me, trees loomed into a cerulean sky and a carpet of moss spread across the stones beneath my boots. The buzz of insects were a cacophony of terror. I was clearly outside in some sort of forest. Had Itravelledhere?
All my life I’d been taught to fear magic. My father was a big fan of logic, and magic just doesn’t make sense. It didn’t help that the royal family employed the cruelest mages they could find. The things they were capable of would make murderers turn in their graves.
Some feasted on blood. The blood of innocents and children. Magic wasn’t native to the human lands, so mages had to dig into the darkest sources to weave the power they craved. And so I’d been taught to fear it always.
But I wasn’t in the habit of always doing what I was told.
