He could be my witch. He could give me my heart back once and for all if I became his. If I am his, he could command me to do anything he wanted. He could command me to stay with him when I don’t want to. He could command me to believe his every word. To smile, to kiss him. He could starve me, force me to fight.

he is a witch, the hunger laughs. and magic is a terrible temptation.

My heart. My heart.

I want to trust him. But I can’t.

I’ve learned the hardest way that I can’t trust anyone but myself with my freedom.

I look up at him, the wind whipping my hair around my face, and smile with the last tears I will ever shed for him. For me.

“Af-balfera,” I say. “Ansenme kei-inora.”

24

24

The Heart
and the Bone

Walking away from the bridge in that moment is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder than leaving Crav and Peligli. Harder than walking into the palace when I was introduced to the court for the first time. Harder than parting from Y’shennria for the last time. My legs are ballasted with granite, marble, the heaviest stones in the world slowing me down, pulling me back.

I put one boot in front of the other until the cobblestone of the bridge fades and the gravel of the palace replaces it.

A normal girl, an innocent girl, would cry inconsolably after leaving behind the only person she’s ever loved. But me? My eyes are dry after just two tears.

I am used to leaving people behind by now.

you are better off alone.

I walk up the palace steps and down the hall to Varia’s apartments, my chin held high. The palace is in disarray, the guards sprawling around every corner in some attempt to prepare the palace for a valkerax attack. Yorl and I approach the Serpent Wing just as someone is coming out—someone in a high-backed red velvet dress and her mousy curls in a single braid.

Fione turns from closing the doors and our eyes meet. She approaches like a true archduchess of Cavanos—her back ramrod straight and her face perfectly neutral.

“Lady Zera.” She inclines her head. There’s no fear in her, not of the valkerax, or of me—or at least none that I can see. She’s either learning to hide it or ignoring it. I make a full bow—the last one I’ll probably ever have to make, to any noble, ever again, under this beautiful white marble ceiling. All of Y’shennria’s training goes into it.

“Your Grace,” I say. “You’re looking ravishing, as usual. Did you get new makeup, or is it all that unconditional love? I must admit, I’m a little jealous.”