Page 1 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

PROLOGUE

ANASTASIA, AGE SIX

Approximately twenty-four years ago…

“Quickly, Stasia!”

The world blurred through sleepy eyes, and the hem of my nightgown was so itchy and tight that my stumbling feet couldn’t move fast enough to keep up.

Did I fall asleep during the movie?

“Mamma?” I croaked as she tightened her grip on my hand, dragging me behind her. When she glanced down at me, her usually bright blue eyes were so wide I could see the whites even in the dark.

“Shhh, älskling. Quiet!”

“Mamma?” I breathed again, my voice wobbling like my knees when I stepped onstage for my recital.

She jerked her head over her shoulder at the sound of something breaking, and my belly squeezed so hard I thought I might cry. Like on that roller coaster last summer, except this feeling wasn’t fun.

Something was wrong.

So, so wrong.

I knew it when she spun and scooped me into her arms, running around the corner before dropping me onto the carpet. She slowed only long enough to close the door and click the lock into place before her hands began to glow white.

Did she put a charm on the door?

I didn’t get to ask. She yanked on my arm so hard it hurt, hauling me through our bedroom toward her armoire. She threw open the doors and scooped me into her arms again. Her eyes glimmered like she was about to cry, and I pressed my hand to her cheek.

“Mamma, why are you sad?”

“I love you so much, baby. Do you remember what I told you?”

I nodded, and she did the same.

“Promise me, lilla vän. Promise me you’ll never tell a soul.”

“You’re scaring me, Mamma.”

“I know, baby, but you have to promise me. Now, Stasia.”

“I promise,” I whispered as I started to cry, my voice so soft I could barely hear it.

“Good. Now I need you to be very quiet.”

She’d barely gotten the words out when a deafening bang made our door shudder, dust raining from the cottage ceiling. Her hand clamped over my mouth before I could cry out, and she dropped me into the armoire, stuffing me behind her clothes.

“Don’t make a sound, baby. Not a sound, no matter what happens, okay? And do not come out until Auntie comes for you. Do you hear me?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t remember how to talk as she stacked shoes and boxes in front of my knees.

“I love you so much, Princess.”

I wanted to say it back, but I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come as she pulled the clothes across my face and closed me inside.

There was a crack, I realized. A tiny gap between the two doors, where painted flowers peeled away from the old wood.

A crack wide enough for me to glimpse the room as Mamma vanished toward the bed. Wide enough for me to see our bedroom door fly open. The crash was so loud my ears ached, and my hands flew up to cover them.