“After leaving his study, I’d curled up under the covers, hating that he was in pain. I hated that we’d fought.
Most women and men who shared a romantic history had difficulties to contend with. Sometimes an ugly breakup. Possibly lies. Maybe a betrayal.
He and I had millennia of bad blood—and murder.
Even if I didn’t dance on the razor’s edge over Jack’s death, I didn’t see how Aric and I could overcome so much to mend the connection we’d once shared.
Or that we even should. The game demands blood. Would I get him killed as well?
Uneasy and alone, I finally drifted off to sleep . . . into a dream so vivid, I knew it was a memory from a previous life. I was the Empress known as Phyta.
“Are you certain the Empress is asleep?” the Magician asks Fauna.
The two Arcana are meeting again, beneath the moonlight—in my garden.
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