me.
My mind rewound to the conversation we’d had outside of the abandoned house. When the pouring rain had slammed into us while we waited for Kost and Oz to deem the decrepit manor safe. As cold as the night had been, the conversation had been worse. I’d told him to let me die if fate willed it so. Because I had feared exactly this: a world of darkness, beautiful as it may be, where my beloved beasts couldn’t be reached. A horrid and painful reminder of what I could no longer have, a sealed door in the backdrop of my mind.
Inhaling deeply, I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the memory to fade. My death was a lifetime away. Another problem for another time. But Noc’s? I peeled my eyes open and glanced upward at him. The dark veins framing his eyes throbbed beneath his pale skin. His cheeks were sallow, breaths ragged. My anam-cara was holding on, but just barely.
If we didn’t find this beast, it wouldn’t be me lost to the world. It’d be him.
Twenty-One
The Frozen Prince
30 years ago
Rain hammered against the freshly laid soil at my feet. Dark splotches bloomed, and water turned dirt to mud. It was a simple grave, just as Bowen would have wanted. Though it was risky to bury him in Iero Sanctum, the hallowed grounds just outside of Wilheim’s walls on the banks of Luma Lake, it was the right thing to do. Roughly the size of a small town, the cemetery housed the majority of deceased Wilheimians. The silver fencing enclosing the space gleamed in the rain, water droplets tracing the etchings of flowers climbing up the bars. Willow trees manned the corners, their branches heavy with strands that kissed the ground. A few rosebushes clambered against tombstones, but it was too cold for buds to bloom. In the spring, it would be almost beautiful.
If Bowen’s family ever questioned his absence, perhaps they’d think to look here first. At least then they could find solace. My gaze flickered to the granite headstone, etched with nothing more than his name and the measly number of years that made up his life. He’d died too soon. I’d killed him, just like all the others.
My hands curled into fists. My curse had claimed so many. It wasn’t just Amira. It was anyone, everyone I loved. Other brothers-in-arms during the war with Rhyne. A few other assassins I’d grown close to over the years. Now Bowen. Only my parents had been spared, likely out of obligation the High Priestess felt toward the royal family. It was her duty to protect and guide us. She’d turned her back on me but wouldn’t condemn them to the same fate. They’d died anyway, some years after my death, and were buried in the crypt beneath the castle. Far out of my reach.
Behind me, a man cleared his throat. “We should be going.”
I didn’t bother to turn and face him. Kostya had been tasked with following me here, ensuring my identity remained intact. Not as if the ring had ever failed. Glancing at my hand, I stared at the scaled band and emerald stone that was imbued with magic. So long as it remained on my finger, my shock-white hair would stay inky black. My blue eyes, dark and unreadable. But more than that, its glamour prevented people from even questioning my appearance. If something caught their eye, if they felt my face matched too closely with that of their deceased prince, they’d suddenly find themselves distracted or thinking of something entirely different. Even so, I’d stayed out of the public eye to be safe. Until now.
The rain grew heavier, and I shook my head. “Just a few more minutes.”
Kostya came up beside me and placed a gloved hand on my shoulder. Streams of water coursed down the angles of his face. Shadows bloomed between us, a small offering of comfort. I glanced at them before meeting his somber green gaze. We weren’t exactly close. We’d worked a few jobs together, but he’d always been the one to distance himself, pulling away at every opportunity. He couldn’t have known about the extent of my curse—I’d only just discovered it—but perhaps his detachment had been for the best. It had saved him from me.
With a sigh, I turned back to Bowen’s grave. “You didn’t have to come.”
Kostya’s grip softened. “Talmage insisted someone join you. We’re so close to the capital.” He nodded to the affronting walls a short distance away,