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In unison, the sinister soldiers and the prince approach us.

I grip the edges of my skirt to hide my trembling fingers.

A vicious smile creeps along Emyr’s face.

“You’re hard to track down,” Emyr sneers.

His voice is so harsh in comparison to the quiet boy that I grew up with.

His soft features have been replaced by cruel, calculating glances, while a large sword rests in his left hand.

His shadows twirl along the blade, as if they were one in the same.

“What are you doing, Emyr?” Cahir bellows. “You’re our friend.”

Emyr straightens, tilting his nose up, as if Cahir is a nuisance. “A good soldier follows orders,” Emyr retorts. The notion sounds as if it is just verbatim for him now. Perhaps it’s the lie he tells himself to justify the evil he’s committing.

With a growl, Cahir crosses the yard and punches Emyr squarely in the jaw. His head snaps to the right, a small pool of blood dripping down the cut on his chin. “A coward hides behind orders,” Cahir seethes. “You’re unworthy of the throne and a disgrace to your title.”

“Thank you for that glowing recommendation, old friend,” Emyr deadpans. “I’ll be sure to pass your kind words along to my father.”

Cahir spits in Emyr’s face, shoving him. “You betrayed my friendship and Maeva’s trust. From this day on, you are nothing to me. You disgust me. I hope you rot,” he growls.

Emyr bares his teeth, his shadows swirling like a tempest, as Cahir broadens his stance.

“Boys, that’s enough,” Papa orders, hiding one hand behind his back.

Cahir hesitates, nostrils flaring as he stares down Emyr. “Cahir,” Papa warns. “Come.” With a growl, Cahir stalks back to where we stand.

Straightening his stance, Emyr glances between each of us with a furrowed expression. “Where’s Riona hiding?”

My eyes narrow into slits as I frown at the prince. “She’s dead,” I say through gritted teeth. “Your fire wielders collapsed a beam atop her.”

Emyr looks at me directly for the first time since he showed up.

For a moment, I thought I saw a tinge of sadness cross his face.

But it’s quickly gone as he clears his throat.

“Well,” he sneers, shattering the last part of my heart, “one less casualty to clean up.” His men laugh cruelly, as if the fact of my mother’s death is something to find humorous.

“Son, this isn’t you,” Papa reasons. “You’re kind and compassionate, but your father has used those things against you in order to deceive you.”

Emyr hesitates, glancing at his soldiers. His clenched jaw doesn’t ease, but his eyes convey a softness beneath to the prince I once knew. Papa must recognize it too, because it gives him the courage to continue, “It’s not too late to make the right choice and stop this madness.”

Emyr’s nostrils flare as he straightens his stance, tightening his grip on his sword. “This is the only path for me, Your Highness.”

Papa nods solemnly. “I see,” Papa replies. “Do what you must.”

Emyr’s glassy gaze meets mine, and I can’t help that, despite everything, my heart yearns for him. I shake my head, mouthing “No.”

Disregarding me, he raises his sword, pointing it in our direction. “Kill the king and the prince,” he chokes out. “The princess comes with us.”

As the soldiers approach, Papa whispers, “Remember what I said.”

Just as one comes within an arm’s reach, Papa doesn’t flinch or cower.

He stands proud and tall. The soldier reaches for my arm, but Papa pushes me out of their grasp.

“RUN!” he yells. Then, in the blink of an eye, Papa’s hidden hand is revealed as he drives a knife straight into the jugular of the unsuspecting soldier.

As Papa removes the blade, hot blood spurts from the wound, splattering along my dress.

Cahir’s shadows roll from him in small waves as he pins a soldier nearest to him to the ground.

I watch as Cahir thrusts a blade into the fire wielder’s chest. “That’s for my mother,” he seethes, twisting the blade a quarter turn, “and that’s for the rest of us.

” Then, my brother pulls the blade away swiftly, the sound of ripping flesh forces a small whimper to escape from my lips.

As if noticing me for the first time, Cahir angrily gestures toward the woods. “Maeva, run!”

I want to listen and obey, but I can’t find the will to move. I’m frozen in shock at the horror unfolding before my eyes. The bloodshed, the violence… It’s too much.

As stars dance in my vision, a hand grabs my wrist, pulling me out of my shock immediately.

I leverage my attacker’s weight against them, rolling them over my shoulder, just as Papa had taught me.

Emyr hits the ground before me with a thud.

With a shocked expression, the prince groans, attempting to roll over.

Instead, I kick him in the gut as hard as I can, causing him to gasp.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me,” I growl, moving away from the prince.

Looking at the woods, I don’t hesitate this time when my father yells, “Go now, Maevriana, and don’t look back.

” I run as fast as my legs can carry me toward the treeline that has darkened with a strange mist. The once lush trees transform before my eyes into rotting corpses of their former selves as their undergrowth becomes gnarled.

I should keep running, but as I reach the edge, my curiosity gets the better of me, and I look back at my burning house. The scene is brutal as Cahir fights soldiers, while my Papa… No… my Papa is kneeling with Emyr’s sword pointed to his chest.

I backtrack toward the burning house, screaming, “Emyr, don’t!

” However, from this distance, he doesn’t hear me.

“Emyr, don’t do this to me!” Papa is saying something to Emyr, which gives him a brief pause.

Then, Emyr shakes his head and plunges the sword through the Malvorian king’s chest…

and my Papa disappears like ashes in the wind.

My strong, resilient parents are gone… never to return.

I stop running as my chest heaves rapidly.

“PAPA!” I scream. My shriek catches Emyr’s attention.

His eyes soften for the briefest of moments.

I stumble back a step, clenching my fists as I bare my teeth at the prince.

“You MURDERER!” I spit. A strange expression lights Emyr’s features as his shadows curl around him.

Then, he shakes his head and sprints up the hill in my direction.

The hairs on the nape of my neck raise as I flee once more to the woods. My knees are weak as I try to gulp down air in order to keep my body moving. I don’t look back as I dodge roots and limbs. The thumping of my heart roars in my ears, as he shouts after me.

Don’t look back.

Don’t stop.

My lungs ache from the exertion, but I force my body to move, even as it threatens to give into the horrid cramps plaguing my sides.

I won’t give in.

Not now… Not until I’m free of him.

“Maeva, please,” Emyr’s voice echoes through the expanse behind me.

“I just want to talk!” He sounds far away, but I refuse a glance back, in case it’s a trick.

My body begs for reprieve, but I ignore the pain, though I won’t be able to keep this up for much longer.

I need to find somewhere to hide… but where?

Suddenly, a large fallen tree comes into view, forcing me to jump over it.

My landing is quite clumsy as I stumble through a patch of brambles, the sharp thorns slicing and cutting everywhere they touch.

I curse, standing up to find a grove of trees with deep hollows hidden beneath their bases.

One in particular is hidden behind enormous gnarled roots.

However, the small opening could potentially allow me to slide within and hide until Emyr is gone.

I duck inside, burying my head into my chest.

“Siorai, save me,” I pray.

A few minutes later, Emyr bursts through the bramble, slowly walking around the grove, whistling. “Maeva,” he hums. I hold my breath, hoping that he doesn’t spot the opening of the hollow behind the bramble. Every thud of his boots in sync with my panicking heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“I know you’re here, Rosey,” he growls.

His whistles grow louder as he circles the tree that I’m hidden beneath. I close my eyes, praying that Siorai won’t allow him to find me. “Come out, Maeva,” he croons.

I neither make a sound, nor lift my head, afraid to see him standing before me. I’d be a fool to reveal myself now. No, I just have to wait until he’s moved on, so I can find a way to go back for Cahir.

My legs are numb against me as I listen to Emyr’s taunts and his loud steps as he weaves between the grove. After several moments, the footsteps slowly disappear and his whistle grows distant.

Did he leave?

Did Siorai hide me, after all?

I lift my head, finding no shadow of Emyr before me.

I stay hidden for several more minutes until I’m certain that he’s no longer in the grove.

With a sigh of relief, I climb out from the tiny opening.

My hands reach for purchase on the ground before me when it connects with something like cold steel.

My eyes widen as I find my hand on top of a black, armored boot.

I swallow thickly as my gaze travels up until I meet his glowing eyes.

“There you are,” Emyr purrs, wickedly.

I release a scream that rattles the stars as he drags me out of the hollow.

“Emyr, stop!” I plead, tugging against his hold.

Emyr’s fingers feel as though they’re bruising my skin from how tightly he grips me.

“Emyr, you’re hurting me!” He ignores me as he hastily walks us through the woods.

His eyes are locked on the path ahead as the muscles in his jaw ticks.

This isn’t my Emyr.

My Emyr wouldn’t do this.

Yet, it is him and he’s changed.

“What happened to you?” I whisper.