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This is my own fault.

I made a conscious choice to work with Calysian. I chose to take him to bed, chose to wake up in his arms, chose to trust him with my life.

If anyone is to blame for the crack in my heart, it’s me.

I tighten my hands on the wooden fence, forcing my breathing to slow. It’s fine. I’m not in love with him. He’s simply the first man to keep his promises, the first man to see beyond my face andcareabout who I am as a woman. Of course that would be a novelty for someone like me. Of course it would lead me to believe there was something deeper between us.

Besides, even if therewassomething deeper, it wouldn’t matter. Calysian will always choose his grimoires.

And I will always choose to betray him.

As if my thought has conjured it, Asinia’s pigeon lands on the fence in front of me. With a sigh, I gently ease the note free, reading Asinia’s careful handwriting.

Even after all this time, it takes me only a few moments to break the code.

We are on the way. Everything is arranged. You know what to do.

My stomach swims, but I reply, sending the pigeon on its way.

“Madinia.”

I jolt, whirl, and press my back against the fence. I know better than to be lost in my own thoughts out here alone.

I’m so busy berating myself, it takes me a moment to recognize the girl standing near the door of the stables.

“Fliora?” My mind spins. She’s covered in mud and dust, her hair tangled, her lips chapped. She looks like she has been traveling since I left her with her aunt Yalanda weeks ago. “What are you doing here?”

Guilt stabs through my chest. I ruined this girl’s life. And I’ve only thought of her a few times since.

“I had to find you. It took a long time. But Eamonn helped.”

A gray dog darts into the stable and plants itself at Fliora’s feet. Eamonn opens his mouth, letting his tongue loll.

And I’d been wondering if he was safe.

“When did you get here? Where are you staying? I’ll get you a room.”

“No. Wait.” Even in this form, Eamonn is somehow able to level me with a hard stare. “This is important.” He turns his head, listening. And then he trots around the field, Fliora shrugs at me and follows his footsteps.

With a sigh, I trail after them, until Eamonn is sure we’re alone. He plants himself on the grass, staring solemnly up at me.

My skin suddenly feels too tight for my body, and there’s a strange fluttering in my stomach.

Fliora sits cross-legged on the grass. “When you left me with my aunt, she was fine for a few days. And then something began to change. She kept leaving, disappearing for hours at a time. Eventually, I followed her.” Fliora chews on her lower lip and plucks a handful of grass, absently running it through her fingers. “She walked into the forest until she came to an…altar. She knelt, bowing her head. And she began to pray aloud.”

I resist the urge to shake her, to demand she gets to the point.

“She began to pray…” I say encouragingly.

Fliora meets my eyes. “I learned my aunt worships someone who wants to hurt you.”

“Someone who—I don’t understand.”

Fliora holds out a flask. “I know. That’s why I stole this. My aunt was planning to use it for one of her clients.”

“Someone who wanted to remember their past life,” I guess, my mind showing me that kitchen, the blightflower petals, the vials.

Fliora smirks. “The woman is convinced she was once a queen. Why is it that no one ever thinks they might have been a maid in their past life?”