PROLOGUE: IVAN – PRAGUE (TWO YEARS AGO)
“Where is he?” Elena’s blue eyes scanned the crowd. “He said he would be here.”
We huddled together for warmth. Elena tucked her gloved hands inside my sleeves. Outside, a storm battered the ancient city with bitter fury. Wind whipped rain and hail into the glass of the station building. A shiver twisted through Elena’s body, but I didn’t know if it was from the cold or because of what we were about to do.
My chest tightened. He should be here by now. He said he had everything planned. If we can’t—
“There he is.” Elena’s face lit up as Dorien pushed through the crowds of tourists and commuters huddled around the ticket booths and bracing themselves for the dash to the exposed platforms. His black wool coat flapped around his long legs, and the end of his silk scarf trailed behind him like a ribbon of crimson blood. He darted a glance over his shoulder before pulling an envelope from the pocket of his coat and pressing it into my frozen fingers.
“I had to empty my account to get these, and promise him backstage tickets to future Broken Muse shows, but it was worth it,” Dorien’s grey eyes twinkled. “Who knew the finest document forger in the world is an angry Czech mobster ex-cellist Broken Muse fan?”
That twinkle unnerved me. I knew even given the seriousness of the situation, part of Dorien loved this – sneaking around the ancient city, making shady deals on the black market for fake passports. It was pure theatre, and Dorien’s whole life was a performance.
But he was also my friend, and he’d taken a huge risk for us, for Elena. I took the proffered envelope and slid it into my coat pocket. “What about you?”
“For once, this isn’t about me.” Dorien reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a mobile phone, a couple of tickets, and a stack of Euros. “This will get you to St. Petersburg. You’ll need to exchange the money somewhere. You’ve got visas in the passports, so you shouldn’t be asked any questions. I don’t care where you head after that – just make it somewhere far, far away from her. Stay on the move until I can sort things on this end. The phone is a burner and I’m the only one who has the number. Call me when you get there, let me know you’re safe, then ditch the phone, too.”
“Why Russia?” Elena’s lip trembled. “I want to go home to Romania.”
“You know that’s the first place she’ll look.” Dorien folded my fingers over the tickets. “First, we get you away. Then Titus and I will expose her for the monster she is. Once we’ve got your money and she can no longer hurt you, you can go wherever you want.”
I met his eyes. A hundred unspoken things passed between us. I’d been all over the world with this guy. I’d seen him at his absolute worst, and until today I’d never felt as if I knew him at all. He certainly hadn’t known me. These tickets were more than just scraps of paper – they spoke of the depth of Dorien’s friendship, of the way he took the pain of others and bore it on his own shoulders, weaving it into his music as if he hoped he could heal the world.
I swallowed. “I cannot thank you—”
“Don’t.” He cut me off. “Don’t you dare fucking thank me.”
I thought of everything Dorien was giving up by putting me on this train. We were only a week into our most successful tour yet – if we didn’t perform in Bratislava tomorrow night, we’d be on the hook with our promoter for a ton of money. Not to mention our pissed-off fans. And Madame Usher… I shuddered to think about what punishment she’d dream up for him after she discovered he helped us flee.
Elena squared my hand, pulling me back to myself. As much as I loved Dorien in this moment, it paled in comparison to what I felt for her. Elena was my sunshine, my reason for breathing. The gifts of the Zână flowed from her, and it was my job to protect her. Now I knew Madame Usher’s plans for her, I felt in my bones that we had to do this.
We’d been prisoners of Manderley since we were eight years old. The things we’d endured at the hands of that woman still made my skin crawl… and we’d survived it all in the name of a better life. But a respite from her torment would never come. I could live in the shadows – I’d been there all my life – but Elena was made of warmth and sunlight. Locking her away would see her wither and rot. It would break Elena, and watching her break would kill me.
We had no choice. We had to go.
Dorien must’ve sensed what I was thinking, because he smiled his sad, stormy smile. “I’m sorry, my friend. I thought things could be different for us.”
I thought so, too. When Dorien blew into my life like a storm breaking against the shore, I dared to dream of something more for Elena. Now, he may be the only way to save her. I looked into that impish half-smile of his, and for the first time in my life, I felt what it meant to trust someone.
A whistle blew. The crowd of passengers surged toward the platform. Dorien gave me a nudge. I squeezed Elena’s hand. With a last nod to Dorien, I dragged her into the fray.
Elena and I fought our way through the crowd to the waiting train. We stepped on board, ducking and weaving through people until we found our seats. I slid my violin case into the luggage rack, and Elena clutched a backpack with all our money and a few clothes hastily thrown inside. My heart hammered against my chest so loud I was sure the conductor would hear it and kick us off.
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