Blood and desire

One: T

dea's

long since become myth and shadow in my mind. The wind whispered through the narrow streets, carrying the scent of rain-soaked stone, damp horses, and the acrid tang of burning tallow from the mar

yond the sensation of being torn away, of cold arms lifting me from warmth, of a voiceâ€"perhaps my mother’s, perhaps the gods’â€"calling my name into the void. I had been sent away, hidden in the halls

esilient. I had learned the art of survival in the courts of strangers, had watched queens smile with lips painted in honeyed poison, had learned that a well-placed silence could be as dead

. Not for re

du

marr

that did not

er’s house hung from its towers, their sigils snapping in the windâ€"a wolf’s head, its jaws parted in a silent snarl, its teeth stil

h its own breath, its own rhythm. Merchants shouted the last of their bargains before the storm broke, their voices rising above the murmur of passing nobles and weary travelers. The clatter of hooves echoed through the

, I wished I

yed, unbidden, to the one

ia

was a warrior now, a sword forged in fire, the kingdom’s shield and executioner. The soft edges of childhood had been burned away, leaving only steel and shadow in their wake. I had not seen him sin

hest, as if to quiet the

Isolde. To serve yo

ods were

was thick wi