Extracting Saldur from the prison tower had been easy enough. The ex-regent offered no resistance and obeyed every whispered command promptly and quietly. Royce had been disappointed, as he was eager for any excuse to correct that particular captive’s behavior. Modina was another matter. He honestly regretted taking her. He simply had no choice. Royce had squeezed her neck with the least amount of pressure and for the shortest interval necessary to drop her painlessly into unconsciousness. He was certain she woke with a terrible headache but suffered no other harm.
Royce studied the warehouses on the far side of the bridge. One had a four-leaf clover painted on its side. That was the place where he had mistakenly killed Merrick’s lover. It had happened back when all three of them had been assassins in the Black Diamond thieves guild. Jade’s tomb. He worried about the message Merrick was sending with his choice of location.
After glancing up again and checking the location of the moon, Royce lit a lantern and stepped into the street. Two nerve-wracking moments later, another light appeared in reply from the far end of the bridge. Merrick was there. And Gwen was with him.
She’s alive!
Royce’s heart leapt. Relief mixed with anxiety. She was so close, yet not close enough. No one else was visible—the Black Diamond were conspicuously absent. Royce had expected members of the thieves’ guild to descend the instant he entered the city. Either Merrick had arranged for safe passage, or they had decided they did not want any part of this transaction.
“Show them.” Merrick’s voice carried on the cool, crisp air.
Royce motioned and Modina and Saldur stepped from the shadows next to him.
“I’ll double your reward for this, Marius,” Saldur shouted. “You’ll be Marquis of Melengar. I’ll—” He cried out in pain as Royce dragged Alverstone along his shoulder blade. The gleaming knife sliced through the regent’s robes and into his skin.
“Did we forget our agreement?” Royce snapped.
Royce looked at Modina, who stood quiet and still. The empress displayed no fear, anger, or malice. She did not struggle. She merely waited.
“Send them across,” Merrick ordered.
“Don’t run, Saldur,” Royce said. “You need to match Gwen’s pace. I’m good at throwing a dagger, and you won’t be out of my range until you reach the bridge’s midpoint. If you pass it before she does, it will be the last step you ever take.”
The captives stepped forward at the same time as Gwen. She wore a heavy wool cloak and boots that were not her own. Tears streamed down her cheeks. With her arms tied behind her back, she could not push away her tangled hair or free her mouth from the gag. They walked toward each other at an agonizingly slow pace.
For Royce, nothing on the face of the world stirred except for the three hostages on the bridge. The prisoners passed at the bridge’s center, exchanging only brief glances. The wind blew harder, throwing the snow and Gwen’s hair askew. Royce’s heart thundered in his chest as she broke into a run. He no longer cared about the others. Saldur could rule all of Elan, so long as he could have Gwen. They would go to Avempartha—leave that very night. The wagon was already filled with supplies and hitched to a strong team. He would take her beyond everyone’s reach. Royce would finally have a place to call home and have a life worth living. Every night he would sleep with Gwen in his arms, knowing he would never need to leave her again. Together they would walk through open fields without Royce having to look over his shoulder. They would have children, and he would delight in watching them grow. Royce would be content to grow old with Gwen at his side.
He was sprinting to her. He did not recall telling his feet to move, yet they raced toward her. As the distance between them closed, Royce threw out his arms to embrace Gwen. Suddenly her eyes widened with shock, then shut tight with anguish. She stiffened and arched her back as the crossbow bolt exited the front of her body. Royce felt a spray of blood.
She fell.
“Gwen!” he screamed.
He slid to his knees and turned her over so they could see each other. Dark blood pooled around her, staining the snow. He cradled Gwen in his arms, pulled her to him, and brushed the hair from her face. Royce’s hands shook as he cut her restraints. He pulled away the gag, which was soaked in blood.
She coughed. “Roy-Roy-ce.” She struggled to speak. “Roy-ce… my love…”
“Shh,” he told her. “It will be all right. I’ll find a doctor. I’ll take care of you. We’re going to get married right away. No more waiting. I swear it!”
“No.” She shook her head in his hands. “I don’t… need a doctor.”
Royce wiped the blood from her mouth and supported her head as her eyes fought for focus.
Her hand twitched as she tried to lift it toward his face. “Don’t cry,” she said.
Royce had not been aware that he was until that moment. Tears ran down his cheeks and fell to her face, mixing with the thin line of blood that trickled from the side of her mouth.
This cannot be happening, his mind screamed. We are going away together. The wagon is ready!
He shook and shuddered as if he might break in two.
“Don’t leave me, Gwen. I love you. Please don’t leave me.”
“It’s okay, R-Royce… Don’t you see?”
“No, no—it’s not. It’s not okay! It’s—” His voice broke. He swallowed. “How can this be okay? How can you leaving me alone be all right?”
She jerked in his arms. Her eyes closed and she coughed once more. When her eyes opened again, her chest heaved for breath. A thick gurgling sound came from her throat.
“It’s the fork in your lifeline,” she managed to say, her voice weaker now—only a coarse whisper. “You reached it… The death of the one you love most. Only I was wrong… I was wrong. It wasn’t Hadrian… It was me… It was me all along.”
“Yes,” he cried, kissing her forehead.
“And what did I tell you about that? What did I say? Do you remember?”
“You said… You said that you could die a happy woman if only that were true.”
She looked up at him tenderly, but her eyes lost focus and began to wander. “I can’t see you, Royce. It’s dark. I can’t see in the dark like you can. I’m scared.”
He clenched her hand. “I’m here, Gwen. I’m right beside you.”
“Royce, listen to me. You have to hang on,” she said, her voice suddenly urgent. “Don’t let go. Don’t you dare let go. Do you hear me? Are you listening to me, Royce Melborn? You have to hang on, Royce. Please… give me your hand. Give me your hand!”
He squeezed her hand tighter. “I’m here, Gwen. I have you. I’m not letting go. I’ll never let go.”
“Promise me. You must promise. Please, Royce.”
“I promise,” he told her.
“I love you, Royce. Don’t forget… Don’t let go…”
“I love you.”
“Don’t… let…”
Her body hitched again. She struggled to breathe, stiffened in his arms, and then slowly… gradually… fell limp. Her head tilted backward. Clutching her tightly to his chest, he kissed her face. Gwen was gone and Royce was alone.