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Chapters (61)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. Ashyn: One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Moria: Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Ashyn: Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Moria: Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-one
  24. Twenty-two
  25. Ashyn: Twenty-three
  26. Twenty-four
  27. Twenty-five
  28. Twenty-six
  29. Twenty-seven
  30. Twenty-eight
  31. Twenty-nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Moria: Thirty-one
  34. Thirty-two
  35. Thirty-three
  36. Thirty-four
  37. Thirty-five
  38. Thirty-six
  39. Thirty-seven
  40. Ashyn: Thirty-eight
  41. Thirty-nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-one
  44. Forty-two
  45. Forty-three
  46. Forty-four
  47. Forty-five
  48. Forty-six
  49. Forty-seven
  50. Forty-eight
  51. Forty-nine
  52. Moria: Fifty
  53. Fifty-one
  54. Fifty-two
  55. Fifty-three
  56. Fifty-four
  57. Fifty-five
  58. About the Author
  59. Back Ad
  60. Credits
  61. About the Publisher

She didn’t say, “And look what happened.” Ronan would tell her that the shadow stalkers would have risen even if Tova had been with her that day. He was correct, and yet it was one more small thing that added to the pile of what she’d done wrong, what she felt she’d done wrong.

She looked over at Ronan. “Go. I understand.”

He argued, but it was clear there was no other way out of this quandary. She would not leave without Tova, so she could not leave through the roof. As for Ronan . . .

“I must go,” he said, shifting, his gaze averted. “I know I ought to stay and look after you—”

“I don’t need looking after, Ronan.”

“I still would not leave, if there were no other considerations. But I have . . . responsibilities. In the city. People who need me.”

Who? she wanted to ask. You were exiled to your death. No one would expect you to return. They will have moved on with their lives and . . .

She caught the look in his downcast eyes. The anxiety and the worry, and she realized what he meant.

You have someone there. A girl. You left a girl, a lover, and now she thinks you’re dead, and you’re anxious to get back and show her that you are not.

It made a romantic tale. The young rogue, cheating death, returning to his grieving lover. But in reality . . . ? Ashyn had always known that life did not resemble one of her book stories or Moria’s bard tales, and yet there’d been part of her that hoped it did. The more she saw, the more she realized she was wrong. People made up those stories because it’s what they wanted from their world. A place where goodness, kindness, and honor were rewarded. They were not rewarded. The people of Edgewood could attest to that.

Would Ronan’s lover be waiting for him? There was a tiny part of Ashyn that wanted to point out the futility of that hope and the almost certain disappointment that lay ahead. The same tiny part that realized he had someone, and felt the crush of those words. A tiny part that wondered why he’d not mentioned it, and suspected it was because Ashyn would be more susceptible to his charm and his flirting—and more likely to argue that he deserved a reward—if he did not say he had a lover in the city. That was, she supposed, unfair and rather petty, but she thought it nonetheless before pushing all that aside to say, with conviction.

“Then you should go. If you can find a way to let someone in the city know what has happened . . .”

“I will.”

Thirty-nine

Thirty-nine