I offered my husband a saccharine smile that felt more like swallowing a bitter potion. “You are so thoughtful.”

What I wanted to say was that he was controlling, but with the dark cloud that clung to him, I didn’t want to risk another bruise decorating my face. Priestess Anara would only say I deserved them all for failing to bear children, and I was tired of hearing how much I was failing at something I had little desire to do.

“I mean it, Assyria. Do not leave the house. You are too important to me.” The wood floor creaked as Vagach shifted closer to me. I suppressed the urge to take a step back.

I sighed, then offered him a nod. “I will remain here.”

“Thank you.” He reached out to touch me, and I flinched, regretting the move instantly. He clenched his jaw but continued forward, grasping the hem of the veil and lifting it. The way he kissed me was vile, and the pungent alcohol on his breath made me want to gag. My lips did not purse against his, and too much time passed before he pulled away.

I stood there, stiff and holding my breath, until the door to the room slammed shut behind them. Only when I no longer heard their footsteps did I relax.

The urgency with which Vagach and Priestess Anara departed left me more curious than anything, and I needed to know what was happening. After all, who would travel so far south in such large numbers?

A small smile turned up the corners of my mouth as an idea sparked in my mind. I’d use my magic to make a temporary escape from the house and satisfy my curiosity. A sense of giddiness filled me as I crafted a quick plan. These small moments of rebellion were what I lived for, and with how reckless I already was with my life, why should I deny myself the opportunity to taste freedom, if only for a few precious moments?

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2

From the wardrobe in our sleeping chamber, I pulled pants, a tunic, and boots, shoving the former into the shoes to hide them from view. I’d need them to sneak out once I unleashed my magic.

Tucking them under my arm, I snuck from the bedroom and down the hall to the prayer room at the rear of the house. The door creaked when I opened it, and I winced, hoping that no one had heard it. On the opposite end, an altar waited, with a wicked knife resting beside a small bowl, and the lone window cast a judgmental rectangle of light on the floor. I tucked my stolen clothes behind the door, then closed it and strode toward the kitchen.

On the long dining table, a basket of fruit beckoned me to take one of the shiny green apples. They were my favorite, especially if they were as tart as the bright one I plucked from it promised to be. The door on the opposite end of the space led to the gardens, and I hurried toward it, curiosity driving my movements. A sense of aliveness buzzed through me for the first time in a long time. From the size of the visitors’ traveling party to my husband’s anxious departure, something big was happening.

The fresh summer air caressed my face as I exited the house, and the sun beat overhead, warming what little skin showed in my dress. Hoofbeats no longer pounded the road, though harsh voices drifted from the center square, faint enough that I was unable to make out a single word.

As I traipsed through the rows of roses, I surveyed the garden for any sign of the groundskeeper. I spotted him tending to the fruit trees that stood between the house and wild bushes.

“Olrus!” I cried out, offering him a wave. He lowered his shears and offered me a kind, sympathetic smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling too. Olrus was old, even for a Demon, and he’d served the three previous Kormánzó before my husband claimed the title from his father. He was also no stranger to Vagach’s abuse, though he was powerless to help me. We’d bonded years ago over our love of plants, and he tried his best to revive the rare roses that I’d let fall to ruin.

“Assyria,” he greeted me, cardinal eyes drifting to my cheekbone before landing on my grin. “Praying at home today?”

“Thank the Fates,” I sighed, and he released a low chuckle. I glanced around us to ensure we were alone, then dropped my voice. “Do you know who those riders were?”

Olrus shook his head, then wiped the sweat on his brow with the back of his sleeve. “I was already here when I heard the hoofbeats. Figured if it was important, Kormánzó Vagach would fetch me.”

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked in a rush.

Olrus closed his eyes for a moment as if he was bracing himself for what he knew I would ask. “You want to sneak out.”

“Only for a little while. If Vagach comes home early, can you distract him? Please?” I wasn’t above begging, not when a momentary reprieve from this place was within reach and the potential to slip into the crowd unnoticed was so high.

He glanced at the sun, and I followed his attention. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to know,” I pleaded, turning the apple over between my palms.

“One hour. But if Vagach returns in the next ten minutes, I can’t promise that I can keep him occupied that long. You know how risky this is.” The old Demon was right, but what was Vagach going to do if he caught me sneaking out? Kill me? That was honestly a welcome outcome.

“Thank you,” I breathed, flattening the apple and my hands over my heart.

“Best hurry now,” he chided, opening his shears, though the pinch of his eyebrows spoke to how much he truly worried for me.

“One hour,” I repeated, then strode back toward the house. Wisteria climbed over one side of the exterior, competing with ivy for space on the stone. It gave the home a peaceful, almost serene atmosphere. The irony nearly made me laugh.

I bit into the tart apple as I reentered, savoring the juices and letting them drip down my chin before swiping them away. The halls were quiet save for my crunching, and once the door to the prayer room creaked as I opened and shut it, I breathed a sigh of relief. Tossing the half-eaten fruit beside the offering bowl, I got to work.

Burgundy eyes meant that I had a special, unique power in addition to my ability to manipulate shadows. Anyone who knew me in Stryi believed my gift from the Giver had never manifested—that was intentional. My mother had warned me at the young age of one hundred and twenty that should anyone discover my abilities, I would be endlessly exploited and my life would no longer be my own.

Unfortunately, her prediction came to pass regardless of the truth of my magic being known.

Stripping out of my modest attire, I pulled on the pants, then shimmied the tunic over my head and tucked it in. I shoved my feet into the boots that were far too large. To anyone watching, I looked comical, drowning in male’s clothing. But it was necessary for my trip to the village center.

Closing my eyes, I tuned into the shadows swirling in the center of my chest, pulling on the threads to weave myself a new body. In my mind’s eye, I pictured a painfully average male Demon, with crimson eyes, short hair, and medium build. The clothes grew snug across my chest and shoulders, the hem of the pants lifted from the ground, and my toes pressed against the end of the boots. When the form was complete, I opened my eyes, turning my hands over and noticing the hair that adorned the backs of them and decorated my forearms. I ran one over my scalp, finding the hair cropped close instead of a single long braid down my back.

I couldn’t smother the grin that broke out across my face. Minutes ticked by too quickly, and with my short timeframe, every second counted. Creeping to the window, I cracked it open and listened for any sign that Olrus was nearby. Despite our friendship, he didn’t know what my true power was.

No one still alive did.