Chapter 12

I know I shouldn’t follow the voice. The corridor is one of the ones I’ve learned to avoid—too quiet, the torches burning with that pale, no‑heat flame that makes the obsidian look wet. The further I go from the bridal suite, the weaker my bond to Lucian feels, like the black rose over my heart is under a layer of gauze. Which is exactly why I’m here. “Just a little farther, child.” The voice is male, old, but not the brittle crack of the Council sessions. It slides along the...