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Chapter One

Annora

Thirty days without Jasce. Thirty days without the sun. Thirty days with my heart aching.

Ever since Aleksander and Asha ripped me from Jasce’s arms, I have been unable to think of anything else.

They have stolen my joy, crushed it beneath their boots like discarded seashells.

The worst part is, they don’t care—not when they walk around, reveling in their perceived victory at Sharhavva. Thousands of men from House of Silver died when Asha attacked House of Crimson, but she doesn’t even mourn them.

How can she be so callous toward death?

She’s not the sister I once knew. She’s someone different now—someone corrupt, a twisted reflection in a shattered mirror.

I need to see Jasce, need to embrace him.

The gods help me!

He’s so far away, and I’m stuck in Bakva.

This fortress doesn’t feel like home anymore. Not with Asha’s betrayal and Emerin still missing.

I reach for my seashell pendant and squeeze my fingers around it as I move to the window and stare out at the clear winter day. Unfortunately, the winters in Bakva aren’t much different from the summers. The days are still cruelly hot, and the nights are painfully cold.

If Jasce were here, he would wrap his muscular arms around me, and I would nestle against his chest. Then, I’d feel warm again—instead of this resentment festering inside me.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

Desperate for peace, I close my eyes, imagining the sound of Jasce’s voice, and for a moment, the ache in my chest eases, replaced by a flicker of hope and a promise of a future where we are together again.

But how can I make that my reality when I’m trapped here? I can’t even wander too far from Aleksander because of the magical bond.

How I wish I could run and never look back.

Frustration flares through me as I stare down at the silver bracelet on my wrist. It’s been there ever since Aleksander tricked me inside of The Hollow.

When I returned to Bakva with Asha and Aleksander, I spent days in the library, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls, searching for a way to sever the magical bond, but I didn’t find anything.

Nobody can even kill Aleksander. Not without killing me.

Curse this bond.

Curse him!

The door swings open, and I glance up as Aleksander steps into my bedchamber, carrying the book about crimson magic that he gave me in Sharhavva.

I reach for my veil and pull it on, not wanting him to stare at me and judge me.

He looks the same as he always does—arrogant and proud—and sadly, he resembles his older brother. He has the same black hair, bronzed skin, and dark eyes, but he lacks everything good about Jasce, everything honorable.

I scan Aleksander, noticing the absence of any visible weapons. If I didn’t know the true depths of his cunning and ambition, I might mistake him for an innocent lord, but I know better now.

There’s nothing innocent about this man!

Everything is his fault. Being separated from Jasce. Being stuck in Bakva. Watching Asha change more and more every day.

She’s not the sister she once was. She’s bitter, and she looks painfully like our grandfather.

And now, my mother has disappeared too.

I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t greet me upon my return to Bakva, but as the days dragged on, I realized she was simply gone—vanished without a trace or word.

When I tried to ask Asha what happened to our mother, she just gave me a cold, indifferent look.

Aleksander steps closer and holds the book out to me. “I want you to summon the Phoenix.”

Summon the Phoenix?

He’s gone mad.

I frown at him. “I don’t know how to summon it.”

The lines near his mouth tighten, and his eyes narrow. “You are the only one who can summon it. It listens to you.”

“I cannot do it,” I say, trying to thread resolve into my words.

His mouth tightens even more. “You have to. We need the Phoenix’s power.”

We?

Who is we ?

Him and Asha?

Bile rises in my throat as I lace my hands together. “For what purpose?”

Instead of answering me, he folds his arms and speaks in a voice heavy with impatience. “Open the book, Annora.”

Maybe if I refuse to summon the Phoenix, he won’t be able to control that facet of my magic. It’s a small hope, but I cling to it anyway as I place the book on the table beside my chair. “I cannot do something I have never been taught to do.”

“You will.” In three long strides, he closes the space between us, grabs my arm, and yanks me to my feet.

I twist my arm, trying to break free from his iron grip, but his fingers only dig deeper into my skin. “Let go.”

Pain shoots through my arm as he squeezes. “Stop fighting me.”

My heart pounds as I thrash harder, but the more I struggle, the tighter his grip becomes.

“I said stop,” he says through his teeth.

Instead of listening, I ram my knee upward, aiming between his legs, but he blocks me with his thigh. Then, before I can blink, he spins me around and pins my arms behind my back.

“You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

“You’re hurting me,” I say as his grip tightens even more.

“Then, stop fighting me.”

I sigh in defeat as he drags me from the room, through the corridor, and to the fourth door on the left. There, he holds onto me with one hand and, with the other, he shoves the door open.

My heart seizes the moment I spot Emerin. She sits on the bed with her hands folded in her lap.

Her copper hair hangs down her back in a long, neat braid, and torchlight shimmers in her eyes—one stormy gray and the other silver.

She lifts her head, and our eyes meet. The spark of defiance I’ve always loved about her still burns there.

“Emerin.” I try to lunge forward, to reach her, to protect her, but Aleksander yanks me against him.

“You will summon the Phoenix, Annora,” he says, his words sharper than a blade pressed against my throat. “Or your sister will not eat today.”

Icy dread curls around my chest. “I will try to summon the Phoenix, but you must let her go first.”

“You will not be making demands of me.” He whips me around and pulls me from the room. “You will do as I say, and if you do it well, I will feed your sister.”

No. No. No!

He pushes me back into my bedchamber. “Go and get the book.”

Fire roars through me as I walk across the room, grab the book, and snap it open.

“Now,” Aleksander says, “open it and summon your Phoenix.”

I glare at him. “I don’t know how to summon it.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how? You’ve done it before.”

“I don’t know how I did it before,” I try to explain. “It just happened.”

Aleksander slams his hand down on the table next to me, making me jump. “That’s not good enough, Annora. You need to figure it out.” His eyes flash, and for a moment, I think he might strike me. Instead, he turns on his heel and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I hurry to the door, open it, and peer into the empty corridor. When I don’t spot anyone, I rush to Emerin’s door, but when I try to open it, it doesn’t give.

Desperate to reach her, to comfort her, to make sure she’s safe, I try again and again, but the door still doesn’t budge.

Please.

Help me!

I squeeze my eyes shut, needing Olah, the god of all Tarrobane, to answer my prayers. Unfortunately, nothing happens, and the door doesn’t open.

“Emerin,” I say in a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen to you.”

Her footsteps shuffle against the marble floor, and I can almost picture her on the other side, her hand pressed against the door. “I’m all right, Annora.”

No, she’s not.

She’s just being brave.

“I’m going to get you out of there. I promise.” If it’s the last thing I do, I will rescue Emerin.

How can Aleksander be so cruel? Starving Emerin to force me to do what he wants? It’s a level of cruelty I never thought possible. Not even from him.

Asha…

I’ll go to her. She’ll rescue Emerin.