It was time to make peace with it.

The males chattered and laughed, crossing the fields to the western road leading to the towers. Shining like onyx spears jutting toward the cloud-dusted sky, the rock-hewn sentinels I had stared at longingly while growing up watched over the northern half of the isle.

Now, they were my home.

The smallest of the three square towers was wrapped in too much leafy greenery to glimpse the emerald Rosetta windows, while the two beside it mirrored one another in size.

When we reached the little bridge that gave passage over the creek to the empty courtyard, I stopped to stare up at the giant tower on the left. The tower containing my parlor and our rooms.

He was there. I could sense it.

Crossing the gurgling water, I gathered my skirts away from the pebbles over the drive and willed that tiny spark of hope to return. Urged it to drown out the sadness that somehow felt even more encompassing.

I still had him. My king. It would never be the same, I knew, but perhaps it shouldn’t be.

Perhaps, I thought, nodding to my guard as they bowed and left for the barracks, we could somehow make it even better than before. Perhaps, we could take our hurt and create something so formidable, we would be untouchable to all. Even our enemies.

We could rebuild, as Rorn had said.

The spark returned, and I smiled.

Upstairs, I discovered Rorn was indeed in our rooms. Head bent low, he sat upon the chest at the end of our bed with his hands clasped between his knees.

“I hope you’re hungry.” I frowned when he refused to look at me. “Rorn?”

“Not at all.” His rasped, humorless laugh sank my heart. He lifted a shaking hand to his forehead, then cursed and dropped it. “Bloom, I’m not quite sure how to say this…”

The room swirled, sunlight mixing with shadow.

The basket of wildflowers and chicken pie fell to the floor before the confession could leave his mouth.

“It worked.” Red-rimmed, his gaze rose from the mess I’d made to meet with mine. “She carries my heir.”

PART TWO

TEN

Aster

She looked nothing like me.

It was all I could manage to think upon first glimpsing the slender, raven-haired, and wide-eyed creature.

Nothing.

I didn’t know if that should have concerned or pleased me. Though I supposed I was expected to be pleased. For Rorn’s treachery had indeed not been in vain.

No longer would I need to suffer through the vicious arrival of each cycle. No longer would I need to plead with the healers to find what was broken within me and fix it, only for them to continually tell me it was just the way things were—and for far too many of our kind.