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Black horses surged through the thick trunks of the forest. White frothed against their bits, their riders leaning low in the saddles. Bridles gleamed with polished gems and silver adornments.
Tingles spread from my scalp to the tips of my toes.
Zuriel hadn’t been lying. The royal hunters were here.
The couple screamed, white magic exploding from their hands in an attempt to shield themselves against the oncoming group.
One horse reared, his scream echoing through the clearing. His rider gripped his long, black mane, mouth set into a firm, furious line.
My hand flew to my throat. My vision tu
Iron gray hair. Scarred brow. Eyes like a glacier.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t coerce my feet into unsticking from the ground. Horror had pieced my toes to the soft grass beneath my feet.
No. No. No. Please no. It can’t be him…
The lake shimmered beside him. But to me, it was a mirror shattering. A thousand shards of my fate. Glittering. Falling. Too late to catch.
After all this time, I finally knew who my mate was.
The male who haunted countless visions. Who drove me to drug my mind into silence.
The male the Goddess cursed to be mine.
The Issaraeth.
And so the breaking began.
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