Page 16

“You burn us,” Mama continues as the flames creep higher, “and you break the blood oath that protected you.”

The crawlspace floorboards shudder beneath us, and I clutch Sable tighter, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.

The king scoffs. “Empty threats from dead women.”

Mama’s hard gaze slides past the king and his men until she’s staring at her sister again, and her eyes soften. “For every life . . .”

“Needs a sacrifice,” Aunt River finishes.

The king opens his mouth, but the words are lost as her stake ignites. The scream that tears from her isn’t from fear; it’s pure fury.

A sound like stone splitting open echoes overhead, and when the flames reach Mama’s limbs, the sky screams its anguish.

The king staggers back, shouting orders, but it’s too late. The flames roar higher, feeding on something more substantial than flesh.

Mama’s eyes find me through the smoke. Just once. Giving me a look that begs for me to turn away, and I jolt upright in my bed, heart racing, sweat coating my skin.

CHAPTER 6

• Alessia •

THE DAY PASSES slowly as Mr. Crawly plans another trip to the market.

Everyone seems suspended in time, waiting for orders, waiting for the next miracle crop to burst through the soil. Claudia’s been busy canning tomatoes the whole day, and I’ve been hauling water from the well by hand because the pump is still frozen. My arms are shaking, and frigid water splashes down my legs with every step.

I’m approaching the main house as the drone of engines rips through the quiet fields. I set the buckets down and look toward the gate, raising one filthy hand to shield my eyes from the slowly sinking sun.

It isn’t the truck Mr. Crawly borrowed from our neighbor that always stumbles and coughs. This is way more than one old farm truck thundering up the road. Only one thing comes for us with that sound.

The King’s Guard.

My pulse explodes in my throat, and I take off, abandoning the water buckets. By the time I reach the main house, everyone is wailing and screaming.

“Stand down!” Mr. Crawly shouts, and in my heart, I know there’s only one thing that could incite this kind of reaction.

Please, not Sable. Not her. She’s all I have left.

Please, let me reach her in time.

Darting around the back of the house, I watch the workers scatter in panic. Arlo is trying to fight off a guard who is dragging Angie away from their wailing mother.

My gaze moves over the crowd frantically, catching a flash of Sable’s gold hair among the masses of uniformed men. A guard has her arm wrenched behind her back, her boots leaving trails through the slush as he drags her toward the convoy of trucks.

Her eyes, those sweet, wild, terrified eyes, meet mine, and I see fear has burned away every ounce of weakness. She tries to fight, kick, and claw her way to me, her frail body strong with desperation.

Mr. Crawly stands near the house porch, ashen, useless, his hands twitching by his sides. He says and does nothing because he’s a coward, all while the King’s Guard continues to grab servants, hauling them to the waiting trucks.

“Sable!” My scream tears from my raw throat, but the guard dragging her away doesn’t glance up. “Let her go!” I hurl myself at the lycan guard holding her, shoving with every ounce of strength left in my body, but he barely budges.

“Back off. This doesn’t concern you,” he growls.

“She’s my sister!” I wrench at Sable’s arm, even as every instinct screams at me to run. “She’s just a child. She’s sick. She can’t—”

“Your contract holder failed to pay, and his taxes are overdue. Her debt is property of the Crown now.” The guard’s expression is stoney.

“No! No, please.” My words dissolve into sobs. Sable is thrashing, and the cloak Claudia stitched from a feed sack splits at the seams.

She’s only seventeen.