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W alking back to my room, Reign’s words echo in my mind: It’s something you want people to believe so no one ever sees the real you—keeping you at a safe distance . She has no idea who I am, the demon that I am. She wants to believe there is more to me, but there isn’t. I wish so badly I could be what she wants me to be…

I am who I am—the demon, the monster, the darkness… I am every fucked-up shade of black that coats my room, every nightmare, every sin I have committed, every menacing shadow… It’s all me. She needs to understand that.

My actions may be confusing to her. I get it. I am hot one moment, cold the next. Affectionate, then distant. I can’t help it with her. I know I need to distance myself, but there is a part of me that just can’t stay away. We’re like the moon and the night sky, drawn together, destined to be connected. Like the tide that keeps crashing against the shore, I keep coming back to her… over and over again.

The moon is brightest on the darkest nights. We complement each other. I am on the chopping block, and she is the henchman. I can’t rid her from my mind no matter how hard I try. She is beautiful and fierce, smart and cunning, reckless and totally wrong for me. I don’t deserve her. I don’t want to bleed my blackness onto her, smothering her light, dimming her spark. Yet I can’t rid myself of the yearning I feel, a yearning so deep it’s painful.

Once back in my room, I shower quickly, unable to shake the memory of her distress over having to kill the blood wielder without proof. I surely do think for myself, but I always take my orders. I will do it. I will kill the blood wielder, so the job is done, and her conscience is safe, protected. It’s an order I would gladly go against for her.

With that thought, I leave my room to head to hers. Telling her of my intentions may help her rest easier tonight. While walking to her room, I sense someone is close. After turning the corner, I see Vanna. What is she doing coming down this hall? There are only two rooms—one vacant the other my own.

“Prince Lukene, I was just coming to get you,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Not now, Vanna. I’m busy,” I reply, brushing past her.

“I need to talk to you,” she insists, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“Later.” I proceed to walk away.

“As heir to the throne, I insist.” Well, that stops me in my tracks. Halting, I turn to look at her. She is only heir to the throne because she stole it from me. My irritation rolls off me in waves, coating all my features. I flex my fingers at my side before curling my hands into tight fists, so I don’t do anything reckless, like my counterpart.

“Well, my apologies, heir to the throne . By all means… Please, lead the way.” Each word I speak is dripping with sarcasm. Seeing that my tone is pissing her off, a smirk forms on my face. She may be heir to the throne, but it was my birthright, mine first. When she rules, I will serve her as I always have, but I don’t have to be happy about it, nor will I make it easy for her.

She leads me to her favorite sitting room, adorned with oversized gilded mirrors and portraits of herself. Ever the self-absorbed princess. I take a seat on the plush, ginormous couch across from her, a marble coffee table between us.

“What is it, Vanna? Don’t waste my time. What is it that you need?” I say, leaning back on the couch, a bored expression upon my face so she can see how unaffected by her I am.

Vanna picks up the pot of tea and pours two cups full, handing me one. “Here, we will talk over tea…”

“No… No tea. Spill it, so I can get to sleep,” I snap. “I must take Reign to murder someone tomorrow—your orders, remember?”

Vanna grunts in frustration, arm still extended with the tea. “Oh, come on… I had this tea brought in. It’s delicious. Just drink with me while we discuss it. It’s an order.”

I exhale loudly, sitting up with jerky movements to emulate the irritation inside. I snatch the teacup from her hand. It looks like ordinary tea, but the fruity, floral scent intrigues me. Reluctantly, I take a sip. The taste surprises me, and I take another, a bigger gulp, drinking half the cup. I don’t want her to know I am enjoying her specially brought in tea, so I set the rest of it down on the table.

“See. It’s good,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Okay, I drank your damn tea. Now what do you need from—” My words falter. Something isn’t right. My thoughts are spinning—or is it the room.

“What were you saying, Lukene?” Vanna asks, her smile spreading.

My eyes snap to her. “What did you do, Vanna?” I growl, my voice filled with rage. I raise my palm to summon my shadows, but nothing happens. They won’t come.

Vanna laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, Lukene. Tsk, tsk.”

My body grows heavy, and I collapse back onto the couch. Panic surges, heart thundering, sweat beading on my brow. I try to fight, but I’m frozen. My last memory is of Vanna standing over me, her smile malicious, before everything goes dark.

The sun streams brightly into my room as I wake. Rolling over, I glance out the window and notice the sun is already high, nearly midday. The clock on the mantle confirms it. Sitting up, I feel a strange disorientation, like I drank heavily the night before. Trying to recall last night, I come up blank. Nothing. I remember showering, but did I simply fall asleep?

All the hairs stand up on the back of my neck as I break out in a cold sweat. My memory was tampered with. It had to be. This isn’t the first time my memory was messed with. That means it was Vanna or a blood wielder. Vanna is an Infinity with mind magic, and some of the blood wielders here have mind magic as well. I swallow down the tightness that is working its way from my throat to my chest.

A knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts. Odd... my shadows usually alert me when someone is approaching. Getting up, I answer the door.

Reign stands there, her hair pulled back from her beautiful face. She’s wearing a tight tunic top, once again a few buttons undone, and a pair of slacks.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you would be ready,” she says, quickly diverting her eyes.

I realize I’m only wearing my sleeping pants, which are hanging low off my hips. “Ready for what exactly, Reckless?” I say as I reach over and start to button up her tunic, covering her exposed skin.

She scoffs but lets me finish. “Is that always necessary?”

“Yes, always. No one gets to see them. No one.” I open the door wider, letting her in.

“Well, what if I want to show them to someone, Prince?” Defiance laces her tone as she puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head. She’s adorable.

“Go ahead, try to show someone my treasures, and see what happens to them,” I say, stepping closer until I’m right in front of her. “I beg you to do that. I’ll gravely injure them and love every twisted second of it.” I stare into her pools of lavender, with a heated intensity. “Then I’ll have a healer patch them up so I can do it over and over until they beg the gods for death. Then and only then will I grant them that mercy.”

She swallows hard. “I am not yours, Prince.”

Throwing my head back, I laugh loudly, then trail my knuckles down her face before gripping her chin—hard, pulling her in front of my face until our noses almost touch. “But you are, Reckless.” I inhale deeply, savoring her scent. “You are mine .” Her chest begins rising and falling rapidly.

I release her chin and walk to my armoire, grabbing an outfit. “Now, why are you here?”

“We need to head to the blood wielder’s. I was informed by Raymon that we need to leave shortly.” I watch her eyes trail from my head to my toes, taking in my exposed chest and abs.

“I can dress later if you have other plans in mind, Reckless. Because the way those sparkling lavender gems are looking at me…” I grin wickedly.

She clears her throat, though a smirk tugs at her lips. “Your flirting could use some work, Prince. You just seem desperate.”

I pull on my shirt, smiling. “I am desperate… for you.”

She lets out a soft chuckle, a sound like music to my ears. “Are you always such an unashamed charmer?”

“Oh, Reckless, as long as I’m charming you, I’ll always be unashamed.” I drop my pants to change, and she gasps, immediately turning around.

“Does that work on all the ladies, Prince? Your charming words and… nudeness?”

“Hmm, I never tried it before. Never cared for anyone enough to—until you. Is it working?”

“Not at all.” There’s a playful lilt in her voice.

I laugh deeply. “I’m dressed. You can look at me with those innocent eyes.” She turns around to face me, cheeks painted pink.

“Now, onto the important stuff... How do you want to kill the blood wielder? Have you thought about it?” She fidgets, grabbing the bottom of her tunic while biting her bottom lip. It’s distracting me. “Reign?”

“Poison… If I can gather what I need, I can poison them.”

I nod as I put on my boots. “Very well, let’s head to the healer’s supply room.”

Reign has the leather book she took from her childhood home. She has it open to a page with a recipe for The Silent Surrender. She has been making it for the last hour. It’s amazing to watch her work. She is concentrating on making her poison, while I’m transfixed on her every movement. The tucking of a loose strand behind her ear, her grinding leaves, her licking her plump lips—everything she does is like its own little show just for me, and I am standing for an ovation. I don’t want to watch anything else. So, I sit there on the edge of the work bench, intently watching her.

It’s amazing that when Reign is around, I can think of nothing but her. I need to figure out what happened to me last night. I’m trepidatious—not sure if I want to go down that road, but I will.

Reign finally finishes, and she has a vial filled with brown liquid, taking up the entirety of the vessel, like Reign takes up all the spaces in my mind.

We pass through the towering stone wall that encloses the kingdom, leaving behind the safety it offers. There are still many houses outside of the wall, occupied by people who can’t afford housing within the inner circle.

Reign glances around, scoffing. I turn to her as we continue walking and ask, “What is it?”

“It’s crazy to me that those with coppers are protected, but those who have nothing to their name aren’t worth saving,” she replies.

Passing several broken-down houses, I respond, “We save everyone, Reign. Or are you forgetting yesterday?”

The houses become smaller and more rundown as we move farther from the stone wall. “I remember all too well, Prince. You only did it to stop the infection from spreading through the Drifts. That would have been a much bigger problem.” She shakes her head. “This is your kingdom too. All these people, whether they have coins or not, should be behind the wall, protected.”

We walk the rest of the way in silence as I mull over her words. This is my kingdom, my people. All of them, the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. I will keep this in the back of my mind and mull it over later.

We reach the house Raymon told us about just before the sun starts its descent. It’s a run-down cottage on the outer edge of the kingdom, one of the last rings of houses, far from the wall. It is almost as bad as the Drifts, almost. The shutters are hanging off, paint chipped, and there is no glass for the windows. We are crouched behind some bushes, watching. “Go on. Finish the job.” My mouth speaks the words, but that is not what I intended to say. She looks at me with fear and uncertainty in her eyes. I want to comfort her but the words on the tip of my tongue won’t come out. I want to go in and kill the wielder, but I can’t get my legs to move.

“This is your task to complete. We will send you back to the Hollows, or possibly death, if you don’t complete it.”

Her face flushes red with rage at the threat. She leaves me, moving swiftly and carefully toward the house, peering in the windows.

I try to go to her, to tell her that is not what I meant to say, but I can’t. My feet won’t move. My body is locked. Fucking mind magic. I can feel it, the unnatural influence clinging to my mind, but I can’t shake it.

Sometimes when memories are wiped, altered, or planted, you can feel them lingering, just out of reach, like a dream that slips away when you wake. It’s there, on the tip of your tongue, but unattainable. Sometimes, one strong emotion can shatter the mind control. The more I push, the more crippling my fear of Vanna or the king harming Reign becomes. The magic keeps me trapped right here. I can’t get close to the house, no matter how hard I try. All I can do is crouch and pray she completes the task without breaking—or getting hurt.