The soldiers outside my cabin breathed like a single massive beast—one made of iron and discipline and an Emperor's rage. Their armor clicked, their boots dug into the dirt, their swords whispered against their scabbards as they shifted in anticipation.
A second thud struck the door.
The frame shivered like a frightened animal.
Elian whimpered softly behind me, and I pressed him to my hip, never taking my eyes off the flimsy wooden bar that was pretending to be a lock.
"Aria!"
Darius's voice cut through the night—no longer distant, no longer uncertain. It hit the cabin like a blade.
He was here.
The man who watched me die.
The man who killed for me.
The man whose shadows hunted me even when his hands weren't wrapped around my throat.
I swallowed, the burn of phantom rope tightening around my neck. I touched my throat involuntarily—Elian felt the tremor in my fingers and whispered, "Mama…?"
"I'm here," I murmured, though I wasn't sure if that was true.
