by K. A. Tucker
“Padlock?” Elisaf asks.
He nods. And then falters. “We will have to move quickly once we leave here, as soldiers will begin scouring the city, if they aren’t already. I will get you to the apothecary and then, if this Gesine is who you think she is, then that is where you and I must part ways.” In the glow of my lantern light, his hazel eyes carry a myriad of emotions I can’t discern. “I haven’t thought clearly since the day you marched into my life, before or after the attack. If I am to take back what is mine, I need all my wits about me.”
I swallow against the ball that swells in my throat. I’m not sure what is more startling—that I’ll be alone in this strange world, or that a man I’ve come to care for deeply is abandoning me at a time when I need him most.
But I’m used to being abandoned by those closest to me, and I’m not about to beg him to stay.
Pausing a moment to listen for passersby, he barrels through, splintering the wood. We step out into an alleyway. The lower streets are deserted, save for the odd figure that darts from one corner to the next. No royal guards sit on horses, no market revelers linger. Yet I feel eyes on us as we move along, silent and hidden within our cloaks.
None would guess that it is their king and the Ybarisan princess, fleeing in the night.
Up ahead, the apothecary is dark, its windows shuttered by thick curtains.
“She said tonight?” Zander stalls in the shadows.
“Yes.” My eyes scour the corners around us, every nerve ending on edge. Movement in an alley catches my attention. A figure in a black cloak. They shift into the cast of the lantern just long enough for me to catch the strands of strawberry-blond hair before shifting back. It’s Bexley. She knew I would be here. After what happened in the square, she can’t be here for my side of our deal. She’s either here to see me off, or to kill me.
The side of the curtain moves.
“There’s someone inside,” I whisper.
“Yes. I saw that.”
As one, we cross the street.
“I will keep an eye out.” Elisaf disappears into another shadow. There are so many to slip into in this world.
We’re four feet from the shop when a click sounds, and the door creaks open an inch.
Disquiet grips me.
Zander slips in first, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword. The surrounding lanterns flare, and I assume it has something to do with his affinity. I’m momentarily envious.
“Shut the door behind you,” a serene female voice says.
I do as instructed, throwing us into darkness.
“I sense the flame burning inside you, King of Islor. You are powerful for an Islorian.”
“As I’m sure you are, even with that collar around your neck, High Priestess,” he says, equally calm.
My eyes frantically search for a hint of what Zander sees.
A faint glow erupts in the room, a ball of light that floats in the air, swelling until it illuminates a woman in a charcoal-gray cloak, with long, inky-black hair and pale-green eyes, just as Kaders described her. A simple gold collar encloses her delicate neck.
“It is unnerving, the unique skills of your kind. It will take time to become accustomed to it, though I will say I am enjoying my newfound freedom in your land.” Her piercing gaze shifts from Zander to me. She bows deeply. “I am Caster Gesine, Your Highness. We knew each other once, but I see now that Wendeline was right, and I am no longer a familiar face. You are Romeria, but not the one who left Ybaris.”
My heart skips a beat as I search the shop for the older woman. I see nothing but walls of shelves lined with jars and mirrors reflecting my face back at me. “Where is Ianca?”
“She is safe outside of Cirilea. The journey here was long and took its toll on her, but she is anxious to meet you. Wendeline said you did not know what you had in your old life.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t believe in any of this.”
“Did Aoife curse me?” Zander interrupts. “Did she weaken my mind by binding my heart to Romeria?”
I clench my teeth against the sting of that question.
Gesine’s green eyes flitter between the two of us. “We can discuss what she did when the time is right. I think you will see soon that it does not matter.”
“You speak in riddles,” he growls.
“It may seem like that.” She nods to my hand. “That ring. Remove it if you will. I would like to get a sense of your power for myself.”
Zander watches me intently as I slip Queen Isla’s ring off my finger. That heady thrum of power begins crawling through my body almost instantly, intensifying with each passing moment.
“Remarkable.” Awe blossoms over Gesine’s face. “It is unpleasant for you?”
“Very.” I don’t know how to describe this sensation. It’s a mix between the prickling, tingling buzz of pins and needles in my limbs, and a surge of adrenaline through my veins.
“That feeling will dull when you learn how to contain it.”
“Thank God for that,” I mutter. In the shadows behind Gesine, I spot an unfamiliar woman’s face staring back at me. I startle, and seeing that it’s a reflection in a mirror, spin around to look behind me. Only Zander is there.
I turn to face the mirror again, my wariness edging in.
I reach up to touch my cheek.
The woman in the reflection does the same.
I touch my nose.
She does the same.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, clutching at my neck as waves of shock engulf me.
The floating orb brightens, shining more light.
I take in the stranger looking back at me, with her angular face, her pale-blue eyes, and her heart-shaped lips. The only similar thing to both of us is the color of our hair. “This isn’t my face.” Or my voice.
“An illusion,” Gesine confirms. “The caster bound that to the ring, as well. To give you some semblance of familiarity, and make the transition into Princess Romeria’s body easier.”
“To help me.” This was Sofie’s version of help, along with the spells to stifle my caster powers. She thought of everything.
“I would suggest you slip the ring back on for now. Until you learn how to contain what stirs inside you, you will not be able to focus on much of anything else, and we have a journey ahead of us.”
Within seconds of the cool gold band encasing my finger again, the purring adrenaline quells. I glance up to see my familiar face in the mirror once again. The one constant that I’ve known all my life.
It’s the only thing I have left.
A single knock sounds on the door, and Elisaf ducks in. “Soldiers are moving in. We have only a moment.”
“We must move with haste, then.” With a sweep of Gesine’s hand, the counter slides aside to reveal a gaping hole beneath and the tip of a ladder.
I push aside my bewilderment at her ability to do that. “The last time I followed an elemental somewhere, she sent me to this godforsaken place and put me in this body.”
Gesine dips her head as if to acknowledge my anxiety. “My only purpose here is to guide you in what already is.”
Do I believe her? I don’t think I have much choice. I can’t stay here, and it’s clear I’m not welcome to follow Zander.
I look to him now.
“The Legion will be waiting for me.” His eyes drift to my mouth, and something unreadable passes. “This is where we part ways, Romeria Watts of New York City.”
“Right.” Where he was once a stranger to me, now I am one to him, regardless of the nights we’ve shared. An ache stirs in my chest, but I set my jaw. “Goodbye.”
His jaw tenses.
“You have misunderstood,” Gesine says. “You both must come.”
“No,” Zander and I counter in unison.
“She is not safe anywhere around me, and we have different paths,” Zander adds quietly.
“Your path is the same and must be taken together. Romeria, I’m sorry, but the old is now destined wit
h the new, and there is no going back. There is only forward.” Her eyes show sympathy.
I nod. I knew as much.
She shifts her attention to Zander. “The seers have seen the end of the blood curse, and it is at the tied hands of the Ybarisan daughter of Aoife and the Islorian son of Malachi. Is that not what you wish?”
“Yes, I have seen it too. So did everyone sitting in that square today. I know what Romeria is, and that is not how I want to change Islor. Not by killing my people.” Bitterness flares in his voice.
Her responding smile is gentle. “That is Aoife’s way, but that is not the only way.”
“And what will you get out of this? Do not tell me you have risked yourself for the sake of Islor.”
Her fingertips skate over her golden collar. “Freedom for my kind, eventually. Perhaps I will see it before my days come to an end. Perhaps not.”
Shouts ring outside. Elisaf steals another glance from the curtain. “We no longer have another option.” He points toward the opening in the floor.
With a deep sigh, Zander nods.
One by one, we climb down the ladder. My boots splash in murky water that smells of sewage. Torches reveal a dank tunnel that leads into darkness.
With another wave of Gesine’s hand, the counter drags itself back into place, hiding our route. Her sleeve falls with the movement, revealing an emblem that shimmers with a golden glow.
I point to it. “What is that?”
“My affinity to Aoife.” She pulls her sleeve up and holds her arm out, allowing me a chance to study the mark—a circle encasing a golden deer that spans the width of her forearm. There are two more circles in a line above it, only smaller, one with a bronze bull, and the other with a silver butterfly. “I have affinities to three elements, though my ties to water are much stronger than the other two.”
“Find the gilded doe,” I whisper. Is this what my father meant? Find Gesine?
“We will take this tunnel to the rookery where there is a skiff waiting to sail us outside the Cirilean border.”
“I must meet my soldiers in Eldred Wood.” Zander’s voice offers no negotiation.
“And then we will head north together, to the Venhorn Mountains.”
Elisaf groans. He’s clearly not fond of that plan.
“You know what lives in those mountains.” Zander gives Gesine a pointed look.
“I do. If we cannot sail to Seacadore, then it is the safest place in Islor for us until Her Highness has been adequately trained.”
Zander turns to me.
I show him my back. I haven’t forgotten that just five minutes ago he had plans to leave me.
His soft sigh carries. “We will get you there. I cannot promise we will stay.”
Gesine presses her lips together and then nods.
“How have you learned to navigate my city so quickly, High Priestess?”
I bite my tongue and refrain from reminding him that it is no longer his city.
“You have more allies than you realize.” Gesine smiles at me. “As do you, Your Highness. Many allies and many who wish to see you as their queen.”
My mind swirls. “Please. No more Highness. No more queen. No more Princess Romeria.” I’ve had enough of it all. “It’s just Romy.”
“Very well, Romy.” She dips. “You will return to this place and bring hope for the people. But we must go now.” A moment later, as if she could sense it coming, wood splinters somewhere above.
We flee Cirilea, the exiled king of Islor and I running side by side.
And yet worlds apart.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sofie’s stomach was a twisted ball of anxiety and fear as she rose to watch the Fate of Fire circle the coffin, his narrowed eyes on the still forms. This was not normal. Malachi never paced in such a way. “Has something happened?”
Malachi traced Romeria’s cheekbone with his lengthy index finger. Even in death, with the token still embedded in her flesh, her body remained perfectly preserved. He refused to allow Sofie to remove it and bury Romeria’s corpse outside beneath the oak tree. “She knows what she must do.”
Sofie’s heart skipped a few beats. “And she will do it?” Romeria would finally claim the immense power radiating inside her to tear the Nulling’s fold? Her hopeful gaze landed on her husband’s face. With the door to the nymphaeum opened, Malachi promised to unite them. Here, or in Islor, it mattered not, if she and Elijah were together.
Malachi’s lips unfurled in a fiendish smile. “Eventually, she must. She will have no other choice.”
Acknowledgments
These last few months spent in another world with Romeria have been thrilling and scary, and I’m so glad I took this chance. The story has brought back my love of writing at a time when I needed it most. Writing is a lonely endeavor and yet no book ever reaches readers’ hands without help. I’d like to thank the following people for their help:
Jennifer Armentrout, for encouraging me to “scratch that itch” and venture back into fantasyland.
Jenn Sommersby, for your talent with this beast and your patience with my many tics. As always, you were a delight to work with.
Chanpreet Singh, for working your magic to catch all the little errors that slip through the cracks.
Hang Le, for nailing this cover (and every cover you tackle for me.)
Nina Grinstead and the team at Valentine PR, for your passion, help, and expertise with spreading the word.
Steph Brown and Justine Wood from the Bookish Box, for giving this book some extra attention through your awesome book subscription box.
Stacey Donaghy of Donaghy Literary Group, for the laughs, the support, and the eagerness (and the angry naked cat GIFs.)
Tami, Sarah, and Amélie, for keeping Tucker’s Troop alive and a fun, safe place to be.
My family, for delivering plates of food to my cave and tolerating me even when my thoughts are on another planet.
About the Author
K.A. Tucker writes captivating stories with an edge.
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She is the internationally bestselling author of the Ten Tiny Breaths, Burying Water and The Simple Wild series, He Will Be My Ruin, Until It Fades, Keep Her Safe, Be the Girl, and Say You Still Love Me. Her books have been featured in national publications including USA Today, Globe & Mail, Suspense Magazine, Publisher's Weekly, Oprah Mag, and First for Women.
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K.A. Tucker currently resides in a quaint town outside of Toronto. Learn more about K.A. Tucker and her books at katuckerbooks.com