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PROLOGUE

Oralia

Once, I found this place beautiful.

The vast and endless blue sky.

The dappled sunlight through the branches of the orchards.

The river of gold reflected from the castle, threading through the kingdom like veins.

But now the light hurt my eyes, burning my skin until I wanted to scream. My hands itched to destroy everything before me—to turn it all to ash.

“Welcome home, Lia,” Typhon, the Golden King, murmured, skin bright in the sun.

My knees buckled. I caught myself in the deep green grass with splayed hands, and I heaved. Acid swam through my veins, and I welcomed the tears as they spilled over, swallowing back the bile as I pressed my lips to the tops of his gilded boots before lowering my forehead to the ground.

The scent of wildflowers filled my nose, cloying in its sweetness. The gurgle of a stream rang in my ears, the neighing of the horses in the stables. It turned my stomach even as a warm breeze skittered across my skin, catching on my hair and swirling the strands around my face.

Power throbbed within my chest, rushing through my blood, desperate for a way out. I grit my teeth, finding some vestige of control from the weeks of training before my power could seep through my pores and shatter all our plans. Another whimper slipped through my lips, and someone shushed me. A ribbon of light spilled across the back of my white gloves as my adopted father lowered to a knee.

“You are home, and you are safe.”

Another sob wrenched its way up my throat. Typhon could not have been more wrong. My home was through the forest, into a wall of mist, and across a vast river one could not swim. My home was a castle made of bones and a city full of souls. My home was in the arms of a god who had ruled the kingdom of the dead with ice in his heart and sorrow in his soul—though not any longer. I was anything but safe in this kingdom with Typhon, but then again…

Neither was he.