Prologue
Reflected within the fragments of a shattered mirror were the silhouettes of two individuals joined as one, their forms pale and trembling. The man’s hand reached out from the shadows, grasping her blood-red hair.
“Lysithea,” he called in a hiss. “Wake up.”
Contrary to his brute grip, his voice was low and sweet as honey, the very same that had bewitched and tormented her through countless nights. With a gasp of air, Lysithea stirred from her fleeting dreams, struggling to open her eyes.
“Terran, please. That’s enough!”
At the sound of her choked sob, the man only let out a curt laugh. In a sudden movement, he reclaimed his position atop her nude body. The dim light painted his form with sharp shadows that highlighted his immaculate muscles.
“Please, no,” she whispered, her head shaking in refusal as she tried to push him away.
But her escape attempt was futile.
Her outstretched hand was swiftly captured and pinned to the bed. Terran then lowered himself onto her, his lips capturing hers, determined to inhale each and every whimper she made. When she began to murmur, begging him to let her sleep, his tongue forced its way between her lips, swallowing her pleas.
Once more, she was set to be devoured.
“Have you reached your limit already?”
His brass-colored eyes gazed down at her, flickering faintly in the darkness. Lysithea managed a weak nod.
How many times had it been today alone?
She had long since lost count. All she knew was that they had started at daylight, but with the heavy curtain drawn, she couldn’t even tell whether it was now day or night. The only light came from a flickering lantern, its flame reflected off the broken mirrors lining the room's walls.
Lysithea yearned for fresh air, to bathe in the light of the sun, but escape was beyond her reach. She could only suffer in the relentless pleasure, held captive by his commanding hands. Like a doll, she was explored, bent over, spread open, penetrated, rocked back and forth, and brought repeatedly to the brink of losing her sense of self, all according to his insatiable desires.
“No more,” she managed to breathe out. “Please.”
Her earnest plea had him draw back slightly, gazing down at the disheveled creature she had become. In what new way could he ravage her this time? What novel approach would he take to consume her? His eyes sparkled with a predatory anticipation that observed her flesh like an obsession.
Yet Lysithea met his gaze with unflinching resolve.
This was the man of her nightmares, one she could not escape whether she was awake or asleep. In fact, before he had woken her, she had been weeping in her dreams, unable to escape his shadow that clung to her with the tenacity of a bulldog clamping down on its victim. After all this time, she feared that she had gone half-mad.
“I won’t wake you anymore,” he murmured, nipping gently at the nape of her neck so as to elicit a mutinous moan from her. “Just let go. Clear your mind of all else.”
Every teasing graze of his teeth sent shivers through her. She trembled under his touch, and despite her fear of the pain that was soon to come, she couldn’t help but notice the wetness between her thighs.
Despite it all, she desired him.
While he had hurt Lysithea just as much as he had thrilled her and wounded her trust while pleasuring her body, she yearned for him all the same. Even now, when she wanted nothing more than rest, she would do anything to have him, even kill.
Terran’s hand came to rest over her unfocused eyes, ushering in a darkness deeper than the night itself. As his rigid manhood pressed once more against her entrance, she bit her lip and swallowed the shriek that built up in her chest, yearning to be free. She was destined to lose herself again at this point, but she no longer cared.
In an inky darkness shrouded with countless lies, Lysithea was once more making love, yearning for that climax that would wipe away the rest of the world, even if just for a few seconds.
1
She could barely see her hand in front of her face because of the blizzard.
Desperately clutching her woolen coat, Lysithea exhaled ragged breaths that came out in little puffs of smoke. The wind whistled through the cheap material, cutting down to her bones. Despite her stiff gloves, her fingers had gone numb long ago. Yet she still managed to keep a hold of the reins.
“Come on, just a bit further.”
She soothed her black steed, urging it forward. Up until now, the horse had trudged through the snow-laden landscape for hours on end without a single complaint. However, it seemed to have finally reached its limit, coming to an abrupt halt with a defiant snort.
“Please, no. You must keep moving!” Lysithea implored softly, patting its slender neck, but the horse paid her no heed.
Lysithea gritted her teeth. The curses she uttered under her breath carried away on the wind. The broker had claimed she could rely on the animal to get her to her destination. She should have known better than to trust a broker’s words.
Irresponsible bastards.
With a deep sigh, she reluctantly dismounted, leaving the immobile creature behind as she moved forward on her own. The snow reached her knees and quickly soaked through her boots. As she plowed ahead, she pulled her hat tight around her ears.
The snow had been a relentless enemy during the two months since Lysithea had fled the capital and started heading north. Given how she had grown up in a warmer climate, winter was already torture, and these neverending blizzards only compounded her agony.
As the sensation in her toes gave way to pinpricks and then a painful numbness that crawled up her feet, Lysithea glanced back. The black horse had vanished. She could only imagine that it had seen its chance at freedom and taken off.
Loyalty?
Her sneer gave way to a painful realization: she was no different from the horse at the moment. She was seeking a second chance at life by leaving everything else behind.
With eyes squinted against the onslaught of snow, Lysithea continued forward. She needed to reach her destination before nightfall.
* * *
Rising alone over a desolate snowy expanse, the three-story manor gave the impression that it had braved the unrelenting cold for eons. It might have even been a living creature, slumbering in wait for a spring that would never come.
She decided that it was because of the curtains.
With each gust of the fierce storm, all of the manor’s windows trembled in unison. The wind even managed to squeeze between the frames, stirring the dark crimson curtains and creating the illusion of a great beast breathing in and out.
Lysithea stood transfixed, the cold temporarily forgotten, as she gazed up at the majestic building. Just as she was about to continue trudging on, something caught her eye. A distinct shadow in the last window on the second floor.
A person?
Shaking off her stupor, Lysithea pushed through the snow drifts in front of the grand house and opened the door. The old hinges groaned, and a flurry of snowflakes followed her as she stepped inside. Pulling the door shut behind her, the wind ceased in an instant. The white of the outside world was replaced with a dim interior equally devoid of warmth. Lysithea set down the heavy bag, flexing her stiff fingers as she looked around.
The inside of the manor was massive, the first-floor hall more than amply sized to host a small banquet. An elegant symmetrical staircase stretched upwards from the center, its graceful curves marred only by a thick layer of rust along its iron handrail.
Lysithea lifted her gaze, imagining the ballroom aglow with chandelier light and festive revelry. She wondered when this abandoned manor had seen its height of life. Gazing about, her eyes stopped on the landing of the second floor where a man was standing, watching her from his elevated perch.
He held himself with the ease of a gentleman, yet nothing about him spoke of elegance or aristocracy. His casual brown vest and rolled-up shirt sleeves suggested he would look more at ease working a dock than attending a ball. It was not only his clothing that gave this impression but his solid arms and robust build.
Despite his rough appearance, he seemed pleasant enough at first glance.
“Lysithea.”
His quiet voice resonated softly through the empty room. He descended the stairs, stopping a few paces before her. Up close, his chiseled face harmonized perfectly with his powerful physique. He had thick brows, a straight nose, and a decidedly masculine jawline. His face seemed to gather the traits of all the handsome men she had seen before, bringing them together in a harmonious blend.
Above all else, Lysithea found herself fixated on the brass-colored irises that stood in stark contrast to his black hair. She imagined they might shimmer with gold flecks when caught in the right light.
The man smiled faintly down at her from his towering statue, seemingly pleased with her cautious demeanor.
“Lysithea Hilennaire del Arman?”
When arranging for him to be her next broker, they had agreed to call each other by their full names. The foreign syllables of his name slipped tentatively from her lips.
“Terran… Cardas.”
A brief silence filled with mutual appraisal passed between them. He was the first to break the tension with a small chuckle.
“Well, it would appear that you have found the right place.”
An exhale of relief was all that she could give in reply. The end of her arduous journey was finally coming into view.
Terran Cardas.
The last broker in a chain of others that she had hired to help her escape. Soon, he too would be nothing but a memory from a chapter in her life she was desperately trying to escape.
* * *
Terran led her to the room she would be staying in, expertly navigating the labyrinth of hallways with Lysithea following close behind. From her position behind him, she could fully appreciate his physique, his well-defined muscles visible even beneath his homespun cotton shirt. Before her imagination could venture further, Terran interrupted her thoughts.
“Why did you walk?”
“What?”
Glancing back at her, he asked with a hint of intrigue, “Did you not have a horse? Surely the last broker must have given you one. You don’t seem to have fallen off either, so I’m curious what happened on your way here.”
“Oh, the horse,” she said, caught off guard. “I left it behind.”
“You left it?”
“Yes, it refused to move, so I just continued on foot through the snow.”
Terran nodded as if a missing piece had fallen into place.
“I see. It must have heard them.”
“It must have heard what?”
“The wolves,” he said with an almost feral smile. “Smart animal, that horse of yours. There’s a pack of them roaming nearby. I imagine it sensed them and knew better than to go any further.”
Lysithea’s violet eyes blinked in bewilderment.
“Wait, I was never told about wolves! Are you saying I walked right through their territory?”
“Well, I don’t know if I would consider this their territory, but they certainly cross through here from time to time.”
“So, I tempted fate today?” she asked. “That’s what you’re telling me?”
“If anything, fate seems to favor you.” Terran’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “After all, you were lucky to survive two months ago as well, right?”
“Don’t make light of someone skirting death,” she retorted, incredulous at his audacity to bring up such a traumatizing event. “You might have been holed up here, all safe and sound, but I’ve been fighting for my life out there. First when I escaped the capital, and now when I unknowingly avoided being mauled to death by wolves.”
“That is no different from anyone,” he said. “Everyone is doing what they can to stay alive.”
His nonchalant dismissal of the matter left Lysithea seething. These brokers were all infuriatingly unreliable. They had no reason to give her their best effort, though. After all, she had no choice but to rely on such men. However, of all the ones she had encountered, this man’s demeanor was by far the worst. If he was so arrogant before she even paid him, she worried how he might change after she no longer held gold over his head.
“This way.”
Lysithea’s room was at the western end of the second floor. It was the very room where she had seen someone in the window. She figured that he must have been readying it for her arrival. It was all well and good that he had gotten things in order for her, but while the room boasted a modest fireplace, bed, wardrobe, and small table, it was smaller than she had expected.
Lysithea hesitated at the threshold.
“Is this a servant’s room? Isn’t there something larger?”
“All the bedrooms are about this size, but if you prefer, you can sleep on the sofa in the banquet hall.”
“I’ll pass, thank you.”
Reluctantly entering the room, Lysithea walked over to the window and drew the curtains. The heavy velvet drapes completely obscured the white window pane, blocking out all but a sliver of faint light.
“Do you prefer the dark?”
“There’s nothing to gain from being conspicuous. I am supposed to be in hiding, after all.”
“Is that so?” Terran set down her luggage and crossed the room. Even as she still held the curtains, attempting to adjust them, he nonchalantly reached around her from behind. His hands grasped the fabric just above hers, and he pulled the curtains back open.
“Still, I’d recommend leaving them open this much. Just a handbreadth or so won’t hurt.”
Bright light spilled in again, causing Lysithea to squint.
His arm brushed her shoulder, and she could feel his broad chest against her back. She paused, unsure what he was playing at.
“Why would you leave them parted?” she asked, ignoring the awkward position she found herself in.
“Because if they’re drawn all the way, you can’t see anything. I always find it helpful to know where my enemies are.”
“But if I’m spotted—”
“You can’t run away either way,” he said, his breath hot on her neck. “We are in the middle of nowhere. Where would you seek escape? With the wolves?”
Lysithea turned around, looking up at him in alarm. Suspicion rose in her violet eyes, her eyebrows coming together in concern.
“What do you mean I can’t run away?”
“Exactly what I said.”
A chill swept over her. It might have just been a gust of wind squeaking its way between the window panes, yet a part of her wanted to demand an explanation. However, her lips wouldn’t part. His arms, still encircling her as he held the curtain open, felt like a prison.
“I heard an interesting story a few days ago,” Terran said as he slowly withdrew, leaving her feeling strangely cold without his body against her. “It’s a bit long-winded, though, so why don’t you unpack first?”
“If it’s important, I’d like to know now,” Lysithea insisted. “Why else would you bring it up?”
“We’ll talk over dinner.”
Lysithea watched his broad back as he left the room, his heavy footsteps fading as he strode down the corridor.
What an insolent bastard!
Far from being the reassuring presence he was meant to be, the man had left her with more worries than when she had arrived.
Returning to the table, she began to unpack her belongings but paused, startled as she looked down at her hands. She had gripped the curtains so tightly when he approached her from behind that red patterns were imprinted on her palms.
Lysithea let out a hollow laugh.
Was she safer here than outside, or had she only managed to leap from one struggle into another?
* * *
The dining hall was located to the east of the staircase on the first floor.
Dressed in more comfortable clothes, Lysithea arrived first and sat alone at the long dining table. From the connected kitchen, light spilled into the dining hall, accompanied by the clinking of pans and plates.
Up to this point, the culinary skills of the brokers responsible for her meals had been uniformly disappointing. Not that she could complain. The contract she had with them necessitated only survival. There were no clauses related to dining pleasure. Besides, two months of fleeing had significantly tarnished her once-refined palate. Herring or trout, fish was now just fish; lark or quail, bird was bird. Salt had replaced the role of delicate spices used to enhance flavors.
She no longer lived to enjoy food; she simply ate to live.
The clattering sounds from the kitchen ceased as a shadow eclipsed the light spilling out into the dining hall. While Lysithea steeled herself at the empty table, determined not to get her hopes up, Terran’s approaching footsteps suddenly came to a stop. Turning in curiosity, she found herself meeting his gaze. He stood there, silently holding a tray full of dishes, those golden eyes of his seeming to leap with flames as he openly stared at her.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I was just surprised, is all.”
Lysithea glanced down at her feet, half-expecting to find a mouse scurrying about. What else could have caused him to pause in shock?
As she looked up from the dusty floor, Terran said, “Seeing you like this, it’s really impossible to ignore that you are indeed an aristocratic lady.”
His gaze lingered on her rose-red hair before he turned his attention back to the dishes and set them on the table.
Lysithea self-consciously brushed back the luxurious locks that cascaded down to her waist. She had kept her hair hidden under a hat whenever she was out and about, knowing she would have been instantly recognized otherwise.
In the kingdom’s high society, there wasn’t a single soul who didn’t know her name. She was Lysithea Hilennaire del Arman, the youngest daughter of Marquess Arman, a beauty with crimson hair more magnificent than all the rubies and roses in the kingdom. However, to become famous in high society was to become the talk of the town as well. Her hair had earned her the nickname “The Scarlet Maiden.”
During her narrow escape, her once-proud nickname had become a haunting moniker that followed her, seeking to ensnare her at the first misstep.
“And therein lies the problem. I am an aristocrat,” Lysithea murmured with a cynical edge.
“Why didn’t you just stop?” Terran asked, settling into his seat with a relieved sigh. “Being an aristocrat, I mean.”
“Don’t speak so lightly about things you know nothing about,” she snapped.
“Why? What’s stopping you?”
Lysithea stared at the bland soup, stale bread, and a tough-looking piece of meat before her. It was a stark and uninspiring meal. Not that she was the least bit surprised.
“I was betrothed to Prince Jade,” she explained, attempting to cut into the overcooked meat.
“That’s the reason you couldn’t join the revolution?”
“Of course.” She spoke with a haughty tone as if she were addressing someone so uneducated that she had to connect all the pieces for him, even the most obvious ones. “It would’ve been an unthinkable betrayal to my parents.”
“I see. And how are your betrothed and parents doing these days?”
Lysithea glared at Terran, her violet eyes wide with indignation.
It was common knowledge that during the revolution that had erupted two months earlier, all members of the royal family and aristocratic class had been purged. Lysithea was the sole survivor of the Arman family, while Prince Jade, her betrothed, had been executed at the guillotine.
“Must you provoke me?”
Her calm voice belied the reservoir of anger lurking beneath her seething words. Terran observed her smoldering violet eyes with interest before replying.
“I’m simply curious to learn more about who you are,” he replied as though everything about their meeting was normal.
“It doesn’t matter who I am, does it? We’re connected by a transaction, nothing more. I’ll be leaving for the port in a few days, after which we shall never see each other again.”
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Terran remarked, setting down his bread with a look of regret. “As I understand it, you’ve come all this way, narrowly escaping death at every turn, all because the port beyond these snowfields is one of the few not plagued with ice. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” she said with a hint of hesitation. She feared that he was leading up to a devastating blow.
Her previously failed attempt to reach lands beyond these borders had left her with only one option: to stow away to the Duchy of Landus where her aunt resided. But as it was the dead of winter, nearly all the ports were frozen over. Only a few remained open for scant food supply runs, offering her only hope of escape.
“It’s freezing,” Terran said, apropos of nothing.
“What do you mean?” Lysithea asked in bewilderment. “What’s freezing?”
“The sea is freezing over,” he said, motioning with his arm to the window. “This winter has proven much harsher than previous years. I estimate that in about three days, the ships still at the port will be locked in by ice.”
Lysithea stared blankly at Terran, who continued eating as if he had said all that needed to be said.
She slammed down her fork and knife, shaking the heavy table with her impatience.
“If that’s the case, now’s not the time to be sitting here eating.”
“You’re saying that we should head to the port? Now?”
“Of course!” Lysithea exclaimed. “We must go before it is truly too late!”
Her sense of urgency deflected right off Terran, who laughed lightly as if she had just made a joke.
“If there were any way, do you really think I would have kept this from you?”
“What is stopping us from departing right this instant?”
“The horse.” Terran gestured toward her with his fork, poking her heart with his words while at the same time prodding a slice of meat with his knife. “Seeing as you left your faithless steed behind, we only have one between us. And before you say that you will depart on your own, you don’t know the way. We could always ride double, I suppose, but the horse would no doubt collapse before the day is out. And walking to the port is out of the question. It’s a three-day journey by horse.”
As he broke down her various options, Lysithea desperately tried to find a solution.
“You could ride to a nearby inn,” she said, struggling to come up with something, “and procure another horse. Or you could—”
“It would take me a day to reach an inn, so two days for the round trip and three more for both of us to reach the port. That’s five days in total. By then, you wouldn’t be able to sail, but you might walk across the frozen sea if you’re feeling particularly brave. Or suicidal.”
Lysithea felt the strength drain from her body as she bit her lip. After all the time and money spent, after surviving so many hardships to get here, she found herself trapped once more. Her self-pity evaporated quickly under the steamy ire that she held for the man before her.
“Why are you only telling me this now? I could’ve gone out to find a horse if I had known earlier.”
Terran shook his head, unperturbed by her resentful gaze.
“With a blizzard like the one we are having now, it would’ve been madness to venture outside,” he said and then snorted in disbelief. “You know, you’re not the only one suffering. I now find myself in quite the predicament as well.”
“What could possibly cause you difficulty? My prolonged presence here?” A barking laugh erupted from Lysithea’s throat. “I assure you, I will cause you no trouble.”
“That is easy enough for you to say, but there’s something that you do not know. Something far more dreadful than a winter storm.”
“Nothing could be worse than being trapped here for even a day longer,” she said with a deep sigh that rattled through her chest. “But tell me, what is this terrible news?”
“It’s more of a rumor, so perhaps I shouldn’t bother you with it.” Terran tapped the edge of the table, this time actually looking hesitant. “I heard it from a friend who’s with the revolutionaries.”
Having lost her appetite, Lysithea was absentmindedly tearing a piece of bread into smaller and smaller chunks with a numb expression. Her lack of response was enough to spur him on.
“You see, they don’t know how many aristocrats have fled like you. And seeing as it’s been some time since the revolution began, they are finding it hard to track them down.”
“So what?” Lysithea asked with little hope after all she had been through. “Are they going to leave us alone then?”
“No,” he replied, his voice calm but booming in the empty hall. “On the contrary, the leaders of the revolution have decided to take a different course of action.”
“Different course of action?”
“In their pursuit of aristocrats, they have come to the conclusion that hiring a few specialists would prove much more effective than relying on a hundred aimless revolutionaries.”
Lysithea sat up straight at this.
“Specialists?”
“It would be more accurate to call them hired assassins. Rumor is that they have even recruited the Phantom.”
Her breath caught in her chest.
The Phantom was the most notorious assassin in the kingdom. Though she knew little about the mysterious figure other than his moniker, she was personally acquainted with his popularity among the aristocrats.
“Ask for a finger, and they’ll bring you one with the ring still on it,” Prince Jade said back before the world had collapsed around them. “Presented in a leather case, no less!”
Recalling the severed appendage sitting on a silk pillow, Lysithea felt sick. If such a formidable mercenary was truly hunting down aristocrats, he would eventually catch her scent.
“Are you not hungry?”
Startled by Terran’s voice, she looked up to find him leisurely smiling with not a trace of worry on his face. His ease only fueled her frustration.
“How can I focus on food after learning that the Phantom may soon be after me?”
“It hurts my pride as a cook to hear you say that,” he grumbled, but Lysithea pushed her plate away nonetheless. “Like I said, it’s just a rumor about the assassins. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“I’m sorry, but I simply can’t eat after hearing that.”
“Fine, but I hope you don’t come to regret it later. I have no intention of getting up in the middle of the night to prepare you another meal.”
“I would never make such an impolite request,” she said. Another thought came to her. What if she were discovered in the middle of the night? She would not even know where to find Terran in this massive manor. “Where is your room, by the way?”
“Next to yours.”
He laughed at her silent horror, apparently finding her reaction amusing.
“Why the dreadful face? Isn’t it better to have me close by? If a murderer comes crashing in, I might just end up saving your life.”
“I didn’t realize you had such a kind heart,” she said sarcastically, dropping her head into her hands.
Seeing as she was not going to eat, Terran rose from his seat and deftly cleared the plates, casting sidelong glances at her. When he bent down to grab her dishes, he paused, his lips nearly colliding with her ear.
“There should be no issues tonight so long as you behave yourself.”
Lysithea flinched, pulling away from him.
“What do you mean by ‘behave’? You can’t believe I plan to seduce you!”
“What are you talking about?” He smirked as though she had fallen right into the trap he had set. “I just mean don’t wake me up. I’d like to get some good sleep for a change.”
“I have no reason to seek you out.”
“Let’s hope not.”
Lysithea looked up at the man standing over her. At that moment, he seemed like a mountain. With such power, he could offer her faithful protection, yet if he harbored any ill will, there could be nothing more dangerous.
“Terran, about what you said earlier in the room,” Lysithea said, hoping desperately for a faint ray of hope or even a distraction. “You mentioned an interesting story you heard a few days ago. What was it about?”