Chapter 1

• Avalon, the capital of the Ravenhelm Empire, welcomed its Emperor home from war.
• For several years, Ravenhelm—the greatest stronghold of human civilization on the continent—had been fighting the united northern clans.
• At last, the enemy had been pushed back.
• It was not a victory in the truest sense of the word. The northern clans had not been destroyed, nor had the war truly ended.
• But to the people of Ravenhelm, it looked like one.
• That was the only thing that mattered to them.
• The entire city was alive with joyful excitement. Crowds gathered along the road to the palace, hoping to catch even the briefest glimpse of their Emperor.
• When the trumpets sounded, Princess Myriella ran for the balcony, wrenching open the door and flying from her chambers.
• She knew Corvo was coming. The Council had received a raven from one of the watchtowers several days ago, bearing word of his return.
• She had been preparing for this moment ever since.
• Myriella nervously twisted the edges of her exquisite cream-colored gown, its fabric embroidered with pearls.
• Her wedding dress.
• She had waited nearly a year for him to return from the war. He had promised that when he came home, they would finally be married.
• Myriella’s heart raced.
• Almost fifteen years.
• That was how long she had waited for this day—for the moment when the boy she had been betrothed to as a child would finally become her husband.
• She had imagined this moment countless times. Sometimes she pictured him riding through the gates beneath the banners of Ravenhelm, the whole city cheering as she descended the palace steps to meet him.
• She had never imagined that she might be afraid of what she would see.
• Then, suddenly, he appeared at the far end of the avenue.
• The crowd erupted.
• People wept openly, throwing crimson rose petals from the upper balconies as they celebrated their Emperor’s victory.
• Myriella froze.
• Emperor Corvo Tar’us rode toward the palace astride a powerful black stallion. His dark hair, the same color as hers, whipped wildly in the wind. The ceremonial armor that had once been magnificent was now battered, dented, and scarred from battle.
• Her heart stumbled.
• Unable to restrain herself, Myriella ran downstairs to meet him.
• By the time she reached the courtyard, she was breathless. The pearl net woven through her black hair had slipped crookedly to one side.
• The entire court had gathered below.
• Some smiled fondly when they saw her excitement. Everyone knew how close they had been since childhood. Everyone knew that the Emperor’s return was supposed to mark not only the end of the war, but the beginning of their marriage.
• But as Corvo approached, a ripple of confusion passed through the ranks of nobles.
• There was someone behind him.
• A woman.
• A northern savage, from the very lands they had been fighting.
• Corvo dismounted without a word and reached back to lift her from the saddle.
• She was small, but curvaceous, with strikingly red hair. Her clothes were made of furs and skins, strangely revealing by the standards of the Imperial court.
• Myriella took an uncertain step forward.
• “Corvo…”
• He turned.
• He looked at her as though he were seeing her for the first time.
• Then he snapped his fingers and pointed toward her.
• “You. This is Ankreta, my woman. Prepare the finest chambers for her.”
• A stunned murmur swept through the court.
• Myriella trembled.
• Tears gathered in her eyes.
• Jenny, her personal maid, opened her mouth in outrage, but Myriella caught her by the elbow.
• Be silent.
• The command was clear in her eyes.
• With trembling legs, Myriella forced herself into an elegant curtsy.
• “As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty. Ankreta will be accommodated in the finest manner.”
• Corvo turned away as though she had already ceased to exist.
• He slipped an arm around Ankreta’s waist and led her toward the palace.
• Myriella stood motionless for a moment before forcing her legs to carry her toward the entrance to her own wing.
• She kept walking until she was safely beyond the nobles’ sight.
• Then she ran.
• The moment she reached her chambers, Myriella slammed the door behind her.
• The wedding gown caught in it.
• A string of pearls snapped, scattering across the floor with a soft, delicate chime.
• Myriella slid down against the door and broke into sobs.
• Corvo had not merely broken his promise to marry her.
• He had returned from war with another woman at his side—and humiliated Myriella before the entire court.
• He had ordered her, as though she were a servant, to care for some northern savage.
• An enemy.
• And Myriella was not merely Corvo’s betrothed.
• She was the niece of the previous Emperor.
• Now she had become the court’s laughingstock, with nowhere to run from the shame.
• She was still a member of the Imperial House.
• There was nowhere she could hide.
• A broken sound escaped her throat.
• She curled in on herself, sobbing helplessly.
• Outside, the last rays of sunset crept into her chambers like thieves.
• They fell across the pearls scattered on the floor, staining each one crimson.
• For the first time in fifteen years, Myriella had no idea what tomorrow would bring.
• The future she had been raised to inherit had vanished in a single afternoon.
• And somewhere beyond her door, the palace was already making room for another woman.