Epilogue

“Please forgive me. It was an error in judgment.” I collapse onto the polished blue floor and lower my head in shame.

“I don’t think you’re sorry. You’re lucky I even let you in here. My father would have you executed if he knew about this.” The Prince of Balthia gazes down at me with a cold, hostile scowl.

His name is Cecil, and he’s a young, skinny noble with pristine skin and eyes blue like sapphires. His sleek blond hair traces down his cheeks, framing his elegant, vulpine face. He possesses an air of refinement that even the nobles of Sa’arre would fail to match.

And he’s the same noble that Soren told me to trick.

Long ago, I sent him the cursed bloodglass necklace. I framed it as a gift but didn’t sign my name. Now, I’ve returned for it. I need it back, and coming here to the Balthian palace means risking my life.

“Please, I was simply doing the bidding of my master!”

“Soren?” Cecil’s voice grows quiet.

“Yes. Do you know him?” My eyes widen as I look up.

“Of course. It’s his necklace. He used it to communicate with me.”

I don’t know what dark plans Soren had for this young, innocent prince, but I’m relieved to see he’s unharmed. In fact, the way he speaks of my master sounds almost…affectionate.

“Soren is no longer with us. He’s been assassinated.”

“What?!”

“He was killed by a knight from Elrus. Some of Soren’s power may still reside in that necklace. I seek to continue his work, and that’s why I’ve come for it.”

“I see…” He pulls the pendant from around his neck and holds it out toward me. “Take it then. I have great respect for him. He helped me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”

I stare at the heavy red gemstone as it swings from side to side like a hypnotic pendulum. I can’t believe what I’m hearing…what happened between Soren and this young man? I suppose it isn’t my place to ask. I should simply be grateful for the prince’s generosity.

“Thank you, m’lord. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Golden sun rains down on the dunes, bathing the desolate expanse in unforgiving heat.

Here in the shadow of a grand cavern, we’re safe from its scorching fury.

“We appreciate your discretion.” Cyne removes a fistful of gold coins from a pouch.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure doing business.” A bearded man with weathered skin and sharp eyes takes the payment before returning to his caravan stationed outside.

This is our life now—desert hermits in the caves far beyond the walls of Sa’arre. This was the location the incubi designated as a meeting spot in an emergency, and it’s where we set up camp after they disappeared from the palace.

All bonded partners of the incubi left the city and moved here under the cover of darkness. Save for me, they’ve maintained their brands, which means their owners are still out there somewhere and may return for them.

Life in this wasteland isn’t easy though. We left the city carrying as much gold as we possibly could. We might be far from Sa’arre, but coin is still king in this desert.

We receive a monthly delivery from black market smugglers who’ve sworn to keep our location a secret. They bring food and other necessities, and in exchange, we pay them handsomely. There are more than a dozen of us out here, and we’ve created our own version of the Sa’arrian palace here in these interconnected caverns.