“Get her to the transport ship, now,” Darai commanded.

She was vaguely aware of hands hauling her to her feet, pulling her away from Zahn.

“NO!” Nor screamed, desperation coursing through her as she fought to stay with him.

But the soldiers were already lifting his body, taking it away, a sea of darkness converging on him as someone took Nor’s cloak and drew it over his handsome face. He could have been sleeping, the way he’d looked so many times when Nor rolled over in their bed to find him beside her each morning.

“NO!” she screamed again. “Don’t touch him! Don’t you dare touch him!”

But the person holding her back was too strong. A distant part of her mind recognized her captor as Breck, the giantess who had been standing guard as she’d issued her demands to Androma.

Androma, Arachnid...none of it mattered in this moment.

“Nor,” another voice said. Valen was before her, blood on his own face, his expression full of pain.

“Make them stop,” she begged him through sobs. “Compel them, right now. Make them bring him back.”

Valen had tears running down his own cheeks as he took her hand. “I’m so sorry, Nor. He’s...he’s gone.”

Then someone was guiding her away, her gait heavy as lead as she walked, one foot in front of the other, toward the waiting transport ship. She couldn’t breathe with this emptiness in her chest, as if someone had stolen her heart right out of it.

“Come on,” Valen said. He was limping along beside her, wheezing as he continued to hold her hand in his. Darai flanked her other side, shoving onlookers away.

Gradually, the crowd began to part, the smoke still casting a haze across the streets. Nor was led onto the waiting ship and strapped into a seat. She stared blankly ahead as the transport rumbled beneath her and took flight.

“She’s in shock,” Darai’s voice said, again from so far away.

“Hurry,” Valen urged. “We have to get her away from here.” He coughed, and as Nor’s vision waned, she caught a glimpse of his face, his nostrils dripping fresh blood.

She retreated deep into her mind as the transport soared toward Averia, the seat beside her cold and empty.

Nor Solis sat with her back against the cool stones of the tower, her forehead pressed against her knees. She was fifteen years old, and tomorrow, at her coronation, the people of Xen Ptera would see her not as a princess, but bow to her instead as their queen.

She’d hoped to find silence here, instead of the howling winds. They knocked at the tower windows, beckoning her to stand and peer down at her dying world.

“Save me,” Xen Ptera whispered with the wind.