Not even a week had passed, and he was already wreaking havoc throughout the palace.


My parents had summoned my stepbrother from miles east of Nyreas to "babysit" me while they sailed off on yet another overseas vacation—as if they needed one. All they ever did was sit around looking perfect and call it ruling a kingdom. No wonder Nyreas hadn't seen any real progress in years.


I'd never met my stepbrother before. Never even heard his name spoken or whispered. I didn't know he existed until two days ago, when he showed up at the palace gates wearing clothes so atrocious that no royalty would be caught wearing them, along with dark shades in the middle of winter. Hard to believe he was related to us. Everything about him felt wrong.


Desmond was the most deceitful creature I'd ever encountered, and I'd grown up in a palace full of courtiers. What kind of royalty can't even maintain their appearance? My parents were obsessed with image, yet they'd brought this thing into our home and expected him to watch over me when he couldn't even take care of himself.


Except he didn't watch me at all—that much became clear immediately. The man paid me no attention whatsoever. I snuck out twice in one day, walked right past him in the corridor, and he didn't even glance up. Before Desmond arrived, I'd managed to escape exactly once while my parents were home—it lasted five minutes before the guards dragged me back from less than halfway across the front courtyard. But the whole atmosphere of the palace shifted the moment he stepped through those gates. Servants whispered in corners and fell silent when I passed.


On the fifth night, I woke to voices outside my door. The darkness in my room felt heavier than usual. Something was wrong—I knew it instantly. That primal instinct that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Through the heavy wooden door, I could hear Desmond's low murmur, his distinctive gravelly tone unmistakable, and other voices I didn't recognize. Unfamiliar voices. As quietly as I could, my bare feet silent on the cold floors, and pressed my ear to the wood, heart hammering.


"I've dealt with the parents. I'm certain they won't return."


"The girl?" the stranger asked.


"Soon," Desmond replied.


My heart stopped. What did he do to my parents? Whatever it was, I didn't want to stick around to meet the same fate. I didn't pack. Didn't leave a note. I grabbed my cloak, climbed out of my window using the rose trellis, and ran.


"Please, he's going to kill me." My voice cracked as I begged them to let me through. The head guard signaled the others to back down and unlocked the gate. I slipped through the opening, then shot him a glance, silently thanking him.


I ran north, toward the lands I'd only heard stories about—the Vikings' lands, where my fate might be worse than if I'd stayed at the palace. I couldn't bring myself to care. Whatever Desmond planned for me, I knew one thing:


I will not let my family's name be erased from the books this easily.