Page 5

HRAKAN

M y stallion’s long legs make quick work of the barren wastes of Hrak, hooves thundering against the rocky soil as we near Sylsip’s border. The nature goddess’ touch grows more apparent with every second, the verdant greens of the forest border teeming with cacophonous wildlife.

Dyrda’s lands are everything that mine aren’t. Her people seek her out from all over Heska, seek out the nourishment of her fertile soils and the fattened deer that roam all over.

Hrak is empty, save the small oasis my keep is settled in. My people are few, and keep to themselves despite their loyal nature.

Everyone else in Heska fears me. Fears death.

They would prefer the gilded, toxic whispers of Sola to my truths and their own.

Rage grows in me again, swelling to a crescendo of pounding blood in my ears. How could I have let this happen?

For centuries, I scoffed at the curse, at the idea that anyone fitting the narrow requirements bound to the chalice would ever appear.

A female perfect for me in every way… except she’d be one of Sola’s chosen. A silver tongue. Everything I hated, and everything I’d want. A fated mate, a rarity, and one impossible to deny.

And yet— and yet.

Kyrie exists. Kyrie drank from the cursed chalice, bringing the curse to fruition.

And I had to kill her to save her, binding her soul to mine through more than our marriage—and now she will hate me forever for my own wicked lies, my own omissions.

I will be doomed to love her for the rest of our immortal lives, suffering pain the likes of which I thought I’d never feel again. Love .

My upper lip curls in disgust.

A blast of humid, herb-scented air washes against my skin, and my mount throws his head back, snorting as it hits him, too. Rife with magic, with Dyrda’s wild brand, the air itself seems to curl around us, a welcoming hand.

I loosen the reins, letting him take the lead, his legs stretching out ever longer as his stride quickens. I can feel his yearning for it, for life and nature.

So unlike all I have to offer. No wonder Kyrie doesn’t love me anymore. I doubt she ever will again, if she even ever did. She didn’t know me, not the real me, just some facsimile of who I pretended to be.

I called her a liar, but I am the one most guilty of that.

I close my eyes, and a vision of her stretched out beneath me—eyes wide and lips parted—rocks me to my core.

If only things were different. But they’re not, and I have work to do—to protect Kyrie and what’s left of the Fae—and Heska herself.

I’ve lived with my selfish desires long enough. I will not dishonor myself with them any longer.

Duty will be my armor now, justice the sword at my back.