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Chapters (64)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  6. Pronunciation Guide
  7. Prologue
  8. Part One
  9. One
  10. Two
  11. Three
  12. Four
  13. Five
  14. Six
  15. Seven
  16. Eight
  17. Nine
  18. Ten
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Part Two
  23. Fourteen
  24. Fifteen
  25. Sixteen
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Twenty
  30. Twenty-One
  31. Twenty-Two
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. Part Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Part Four
  47. Thirty-Six
  48. Thirty-Seven
  49. Thirty-Eight
  50. Thirty-Nine
  51. Forty
  52. Forty-One
  53. Forty-Two
  54. Forty-Three
  55. Forty-Four
  56. Forty-Five
  57. Forty-Six
  58. Forty-Seven
  59. Epilogue
  60. Excerpt from The Sun and Its Shade
  61. The Night and Its Moon Playlist
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. About the Author
  64. Back Cover

She had no eyes through which to see herself, but from the way Millicent and the healer spoke, she knew her supple cheeks had become gaunt and sallow. They’d commented in hushed, harried tones over how her tanned skin was chalky and clammy. Even her hair, they said, had become dull and limp.

Nox had nothing to do but think and sleep and think and sleep and think and sleep. Her mind dwelled on how it hadn’t been until after her succubus powers had manifested that suddenly she’d “learned” everything about the day Amaris had ridden off with an armed northern assassin. Millicent had told her Amaris had been abducted and led her to believe the girl was being held in the north. The lie was so elegant. So simple.

No one had ever told her how much loathing tasted like molded fruit and rotten meat. The putrid flavors swirled in the back of her throat as Millicent’s tales festered within her. The world’s best lies, after all, are composed from truths. She’d been groomed to hear such a lie, and she hated herself for it. She’d been too thirsty for knowledge. Her need for answers and tangible solutions had opened her up to a beautiful deception.

The anger of her manipulation burned hotter than her fever. She despised how blinded she’d been. Of course, given the craftiness of Millicent’s motives, Nox had been willing to gather forces. How else could the Madame have possibly convinced Nox to create her small army? Nox had known that Millicent wanted the power all along, but it had been presented as a shared need for conquest. It was a brilliant lie in its effective subtlety. Nox would amass the troops for a sham, and Millicent would swoop in to use what she had collected.

Nox had become a murderer. She’d justified every still-warm body, every botched mission, every corpse carried from her rooms. Everything she’d done had been for justice, for liberation, for love.

Millicent had been the marionette all along.

If she’d never been purchased by the Madame, taken in the stead of the deposit paid for Amaris, she never would have been touched by a man. She would have lived her life without knowing the dark curse that lurked within her womanhood for any male who dare come near her.

Her anger grew as her mind would meditate on nothing else, trapped in a cycle composed only of sleep, wake, think, hate, plan, repeat.