The Half-Hearted Queen

by Charlie N Holmberg

Genres: Dark Fantasy; Romantic Fantasy; Dark Romance

Synopsis

In this spellbinding dark fantasy from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Charlie N. Holmberg that concludes the Shattered King duology, Nym must escape the clutches of her captors and find her way back to Renn even as forbidden love, magic, and secrets collide with the weight of the crown and the war between kingdoms.

Nym never told Prince Renn she loved him. And now, as a captive and political pawn to the ruthless King Nicosia, Nym finds herself guarding more than her forbidden feelings for Renn as the kingdoms of Cansere and Sesta clash and the bloodshed of war rages. Nym’s connection to Renn is more than just romantic—it’s magical, and King Nicosia will stop at nothing to find Renn’s weakness and claim the kingdoms as his.

Now Nym must find a way to escape the cruel and twisted fate of imprisonment as she faces the unimaginable horrors and dangerous secrets hidden within King Nicosia’s palace walls. With the succession of kings on the line and a dangerous prophecy unfolding, Prince Renn faces his own impossible choice. The future of the throne hinges on a political alliance that means forsaking his love for Nym. If he can’t fulfill his destiny and unite the kingdoms, King Nicosia will destroy them all.

Release date: March 3, 2026

Publisher: 47North

Print pages: 379

Content advisory: This book contains themes of and references to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; PTSD; and war and violence. It may not be suitable for all readers.

Sample

Chapter 1 I never told Renn I loved him. The fact haunted me as I sat in the hold of a Sestan ship, rocking back and forth on cold ocean waves as I sailed north into our enemy’s heartland. It sat heavy in my gut as I waited for Adoel Nicosia, king of Sesta, to lose his patience with me and slice my throat. Though I supposed throwing me overboard would save him the mess. I’d tried to throw myself overboard already. I had so little opportunity to act, as Nicosia, who had read my mind to discover I was Rove Castle’s healer, had also used a soulbinding on me. He wielded two separate forms of craftlock—something that shouldn’t have been possible. And yet the magic had such a hold on me I couldn’t move more than six feet away from him at any given moment, no matter how I pushed. Weight and momentum had no effect on one’s soul. Earlier in the voyage he’d tried to shift my soulbinding. The moment it unclamped, I’d rushed the starboard side of the ship, but three separate Sestan dragons—soldiers—trounced me.

I was far more afraid of them than I was of the sea. Now I sat in the hold of the massive ship, the wood planks beneath me hard and unpolished, splinters constantly catching my dress and my skin. The scent of a thousand bodies over endless years of sailing clung to every facet of the woodgrain, along with the sharp aroma of urine from soldiers who couldn’t be bothered to climb up the ladder to the main deck and relieve themselves in the ocean. Fish, oil, and sweat 2mixed with my own fear, broken up by the faintest whiff of the sea when it came through the grating in the ceiling—the only exit from this hell. The grating had lifted, now, letting in ocean breeze and a thick beam of sunlight, better highlighting the half-filled cargo hold, the ropes hanging on the walls, two spare cannons, and now, three monsters staring at me. Don’t let them see your fear, I reminded myself. Though surely the dog could smell it. The mastiff growled as I met its eyes. It was a burly, overmuscled creature with an underbite and pigeoned feet, incredibly well trained. Again, no matter how hard I pulled on the binding, the dog didn’t budge. If the anchor in the magic came down to the weight of souls, mine was apparently lacking. The second beast was a Sestan dragon, also overly muscled and with an underbite. He couldn’t care less about me. He lingered by the ladder in sunlight I hadn’t touched for days, hand on the hilt of a dagger in case I proved feral. Much longer in this hold, and I would be. But the worst of them crouched right in front of me. Eyes cold as ice, chin sharp and spotted with black facial hair matching that slicked back on his head. Fur lined King Adoel Nicosia’s cloak and the tops of his boots, because the farther north we sailed, the colder it became. Give me Rove’s dungeon. Give me the end of Prince Adrinn’s knife, or Queen Winvrin’s ire. Give me a hard winter and dead beehives. Anything but him. If the gods heard my pleas for help, they did not answer. “You’ve had a little time to think.” The king’s Sestan accent curled sweet as honeycomb, the tassels of his violet cincture brushing the floor. “Would you like to talk?” I had plenty of things I’d like to tell the king, but I kept them to myself. The one gift Queen Winvrin had bestowed upon me was a better ability to stay silent. 3 I stared at the mastiff, preferring its gaze. The king couldn’t read my mind further, as I’d built a wall in my lumis, around the entirety of it, back in Speth. I’d built it of ethereal basalt, dark and thick. I was no mindreader, but the mind was part of the body, and the body was the lumis. I’d taken a shot in the dark, and so far, it seemed to be paying off, blocking him from reading my past, my present, and my secrets. King Nicosia had seen the wall, because in addition to using soulbinding and mindreading, he was, somehow, also a healer. “I don’t think he’ll hurt you,” Ursa, my dead sister, murmured from within the same space. “He needs you too much.” I tried to dowse on myself, to further strengthen that wall in my lumis as I had done again and again during the long hours of this endless journey, but the king’s hand whipped out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to stay present, to look at him. I’d rather touch a snake. “None of that.” The honey slipped from his voice. “Are you truly so loyal to the dead? I am your king now, Nym Tallowax. Your loyalty belongs to me.” I inhaled sharply through my nose as a sudden pain rang out from my upper arm, like something had struck me. Set my jaw. Another phantom pain? King Nicosia had made no move against me, nor had his guards or his dog. I feared I knew its source, but I couldn’t think of that now. Even with the wall, I feared dwelling on anything that would give this bastard what he wanted. He’d been hounding me for answers for seven days. Eight days since I healed Renn. Since I gave him half my heart and rebuilt his lumis into something even I, so familiar with it, could never have imagined. Seven days since Renn burned with light, since Sten called him gods-touched. Seven days since I met King Nicosia. Since he learned who I was and abducted me. Six since I’d been dragged onto this ship. 4 How much longer until the King of Dragons lost interest and killed me? Would he do it quickly, or slowly? Despite the chill, a new bead of sweat ran down the dip of my spine. Adoel Nicosia frowned. “You try my patience—” “Where is Princess Eden?” My voice crackled as it passed my lips, I’d used it so little. Even communicating with Ursa, I never spoke above a whisper. His expression didn’t change. “Whatever do you mean?” I glared at him before moving my vision, again, to the mastiff. It looked at me like I was dinner. I’d never seen such hatred in an animal before. I dug deep, past the fear and anguish, to anger. It was so much easier to be angry. “If you want me to cooperate, Your Majesty, then perhaps you should do the same.” Perhaps Queen Winvrin hadn’t schooled me as well as I thought. And now her head rotted on a pike at Rove Castle. But I knew Princess Eden had embarked on this same ship. I’d glimpsed her on the deck, before they dragged me into the hold. Kari, a brothel owner in Rove, had told me she’d been captured. I feared for her, for what they might do to her, and yet I found myself relieved she was alive. Renn, too, lived. I . . . felt him. Even now, I felt him. I felt him between the hard beats of my weak heart and in the pain still radiating from my arm. 

And that was something King Nicosia could never, ever know. He sighed. “She is well, of course. She is a guest on this ship.” I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “Be careful, Nym,” Ursa warned. But Nicosia pressed. “And what is the dear princess to you?” I shook my head. “She is my queen, now. I live to serve her.” He chuckled. “For someone who lived in the castle, you misunderstand your own laws.” Oh, I knew them. Princess Eden could only become queen if she married, and even then, only if she wanted the title. Which made Renn 5king. He became king of the whole of Cansere the night Sestan dragons murdered his father, mother, and brother. The Sestan king regarded me with curiosity, never taking his foul hand from my face. Waited a beat before saying, “Sesta is a refuge for people like you. For people like us. I’ll take off your chains and set you free; all I ask is to know how you did it. I know about the draft for doctors and healers by your late queen. She even sent requests into Sesta. But no one could heal her decrepit son. Until you. I want to understand you, Nym. Do you not see how your knowledge could benefit mankind as a whole? Sestan and Canseren both?” I bit my tongue. Some freedom I have, bound in the bottom of this ship. But even if I were treated as nobility on this ship, I would say nothing. Not after the brief exchange we’d had in Speth. If I understood anything, it was that King Nicosia could not be trusted. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten in three days. Nicosia didn’t move, but I could taste his magic in the back of my throat. He was trying to read me, trying to pierce my mind and hear me like he could others. I’d learned the difference with him, between mindreading and dowsing. When he listened to my thoughts, his face grew tight, his brow furrowed in concentration, his green eyes sharp. When he dowsed, his face went slack, his eyes unfocused. He dug into my mind, and then switched to my lumis, trying to get past my wall. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. All three forms of craftlock. Such a thing should have been impossible. Yet I’d been waiting for this moment. Prepared for it. All craftlock required touch to work, and I’d realized touch worked two ways. This time, without lifting my hands, I let my vision unfocus and dowsed into his lumis, the ethereal space that represented his physical body. What I saw shocked me. A great black wall, just like mine. Something felt oddly familiar about it—not visually, not because it matched mine, but— 6 My connection broke immediately, sending my consciousness crashing back into the hold of after the brief exchange we’d had in Speth. If I understood anything, it was that King Nicosia could not be trusted. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten in three days. Nicosia didn’t move, but I could taste his magic in the back of my throat. He was trying to read me, trying to pierce my mind and hear me like he could others. I’d learned the difference with him, between mindreading and dowsing. When he listened to my thoughts, his face grew tight, his brow furrowed in concentration, his green eyes sharp. When he dowsed, his face went slack, his eyes unfocused. He dug into my mind, and then switched to my lumis, trying to get past my wall. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. All three forms of craftlock. Such a thing should have been impossible. Yet I’d been waiting for this moment. Prepared for it. All craftlock required touch to work, and I’d realized touch worked two ways. This time, without lifting my hands, I let my vision unfocus and dowsed into his lumis, the ethereal space that represented his physical body. What I saw shocked me. A great black wall, just like mine. Something felt oddly familiar about it—not visually, not because it matched mine, but— 6 My connection broke immediately, sending my consciousness crashing back into the hold of the ship. The king had whipped his hand back, breaking our connection. “None of that, my dear.” He smiled, but his voice cut like a razor. “But thank you kindly for the idea.” He stayed a step ahead of me. He knew I could slip into his lumis as well. Copied my wall. But he’d yet to penetrate mine. He’d yet to see the crenellated puzzle of my lumis, built like merlons on a tower. Hadn’t seen the green blocks of my sister, given to me so I might live while she perished. Hadn’t beheld the shadowy stains across all of it, from when I had died, only to be pulled back to the living by her. I supposed if Renn was gods-touched, I was death-touched. What a pair we made. Most critically, King Nicosia had yet to witness the merlon of my heart half-shaped with translucent blocks, something like frosted glass. Pieces of magic I’d created, tied off, and used to make myself whole. Pieces I had to feed magic into on a regular basis, for they faded a little every day. But the addition of those new pieces of myself was not the only change my lumis had undergone: Fine filaments of gold, the same gold that had burned so brilliantly in Renn’s own lumis, threaded through my heart merlon like vines of ivy—slender, lovely, and damning, should King Nicosia ever lay eyes on them. My arm still ached from the blow I never received. My pulse sped from something, a battle, perhaps, that I didn’t fight. For a week, I’d felt things in my heart and my body that I did not and could not experience. They could only be from him: the king who possessed the other half of my heart, literally and figuratively. I feared what that meant for us. But for now, I still had a chance. We still had a chance. “Why?” I asked, looking into King Nicosia’s eyes and finding little there. “Why are you doing this? Why attack Cansere? What do you want?” 7 Our countries had been peaceable for centuries. Dyadic continents separated only by a narrow strait. So similar, yet so very different. No one had expected the unprovoked attack on Rove. The capital had fallen in a single night. The corner of King Nicosia’s mouth ticked upward. “Perhaps, my dear Nym, if you share with me, I’ll share with you.” Lie. I knew it for a lie. Everything he said was lies. The manner in which the Sestan king prodded at me, pleaded, threatened . . . the man seemed obsessed with Cansere’s king. Most wouldn’t even recognize Renn Reshua Noblewight because he’d spent most of his life as an invalid indoors, chained to a bed in much the same way I was chained to this gods-forsaken mastiff. So you’re the one who undid all my hard work, King Nicosia had said to me behind the thicket in Speth, my dress damp with snow. I had theories, but they seemed so far-fetched, so impossible . . . I swallowed my retorts, my questions, my curses. I refused to speak. I had a habit of letting my tongue get me in trouble, and I could not risk that here. Not with Renn in the balance. Even Ursa remained silent. King Nicosia gave me a tight-lipped smile and stood. “Your choices, Nym. All consequences come from your choices.” He brushed off his slacks. “I’ll feed you when you’re willing to trade for it.” And he left me alone in the bottom of his ship. King Nicosia proved a man of his word. I did not receive even water for the rest of the day, nor the next, though that night Rolys, god of the skies, opened the sky to rain and sleet, much of which fell through the grated door and into the hold. The mastiff growled at me when I pulled on our soulbinding, which did not allow me to get more than six feet from it, to lap water off the floor, but the beast did not attack me. Well trained, that one. 8 I’d rather starve in this hold than spend another minute with Adoel Nicosia, so I supposed it worked out for the better. The next day I began to feel delirious with thirst, and my stomach had cramped into a hard lead ball within me. I slept a lot, hiding away from the ache of physical need, though upon one waking—somewhere midmorning, I presumed—I felt a distant fullness in my stomach. I’d ingested nothing—I was starving. I’d lost weight and continued to do so, my ribs more defined when I felt them through my dress. And yet for a few hours, I felt a distant fullness that was not my own, which only lent to my building theory about my split heart. I never told Renn I loved him. Three times he’d confessed to me, and I’d failed to reciprocate. What if I never got the chance? I spent much of my time—how much, I wasn’t sure—in a state of half-consciousness, lost in the realm between wakefulness and sleep, often dipping into the latter. When I woke again, evening light poured through the open hatch. I jolted to alertness, surrounded by water, thinking at first that I’d been thrown overboard or that I was hallucinating. But there were puddles of water all around me. I pressed my palms to the ship’s wooden floor and drank, only to spit it out again. Seawater. “Don’t let him kill you,” Ursa pleaded silently, hidden behind the basalt wall of my lumis. “It isn’t worth it.” Isn’t it? I wondered, but Ursa could not read my thoughts, even if I wanted her to. I felt Renn, still: guilt that belonged neither to me nor Ursa winding up through me like poisoned thorns— I finally recognized the hold and noticed King Nicosia standing over me, looking tired, the way a parent looks tired at the end of a long day in a house full of children. He had one hand propped on his hip. One of his soldiers came forward with a waterskin and handed it to me. I snatched it from him before he could change his mind, drinking greedily, water running down my chin and joining my half-soaked 9dress. My stomach cramped, forcing me to pause, but I held on to that bladder with both hands, nails digging in, protecting it like a mangy cur. “I’m happy to feed you, as well. The best of foods,” King Nicosia offered. “I realize I’ve been unfair to you. Here I want your cooperation, your trust, and I treat you like an animal.” He gestured weakly to the mastiff. “Perhaps we could talk over dinner.” I said nothing, but the king retreated, snapping his fingers as he did, and the mastiff took off after him. My leash stretched to its limits within a few steps, forcing me to rise and follow. I stumbled on my feet, clutching the waterskin, and blearily climbed up the slanted ladder after the dog. The evening light seemed overbright to my eyes, and I winced, shielding them as I peered out to the ocean. Was that land out in the distance? A glacier? I’d only heard of them, never seen— Princess Eden. I stumbled as I spied her near the port side, hands on the railing, wearing a scarlet dress cut in Sestan fashion, her cloak billowing in the wind, her long bronze hair tangling over it. No ropes, no chains, but someone had fastened a heavy iron collar around her neck like she was an ox to be hitched. If she tried to jump, that collar would sink her to the bottom of Salm’s restless sea. Her pale face, sunburned, turned toward me. Eden’s eyes widened in recognition, lips parted, but that damn mastiff dragged me after its owner, who stepped inside one of the two ship’s cabins. I prayed the other one belonged to Princess Eden. At least it looked like she was eating. The door slammed shut behind me, stealing my view of her and making me aware of my own shivering. The winter chill clung to my wet dress, and by the time Nicosia secured me in the cabin, my teeth were chattering. Not all the shaking came from the cold. “Sorry about that.” He tilted his head toward my clothes and moved to a small cupboard above his bed and pulled out a slim dress. Handed it to me. “We couldn’t get you to wake by normal means.” 10 So the water hadn’t come from sea waves, but from a bucket. “Then perhaps you should have had a change of heart before dehydration nearly killed me,” I spat, my voice coarse, embracing my shield of anger. I could heal away the edges of thirst, but no amount of magic could create water in my blood or food in my stomach. He grinned. “So she does speak.” I took the dress, eager to be warm. I hadn’t been warm in ten days. However, the king did not leave the room. “Are you modest, then?” He sounded genuinely curious. “I know the Noblewights like to have their way with their servants. I wasn’t sure if you were among the . . . favored.” I wanted to growl like the mastiff heeling at my ankles, but resisted. He was not entirely wrong. Prince Adrinn had . . . partaken . . . of many women at the castle, and I imagined elsewhere, too. And now his head, too, rotted on a spike in Rove. Take care of my brother. His final words to me. I felt the distance between Renn and I so acutely I shuddered. The Sestan king turned around. “Quickly, if you would.” I did not trust him. I trusted myself alone with very few men, especially if I were to undress. But I would be miserable remaining in my soaked clothes, even if I dowsed to keep illness at bay, so turning my back, I stripped as swiftly as possible, glaring at the cabin door, daring a soldier or crewman to come through. I even had to strip off my shift, making me feel doubly exposed. The dress fit snugly, even with my weight loss, but the rich fabric had some give to it. I could not fasten the dress myself, but I refused to ask for help, so I did as many buttons as I could, bending my wrists and shoulders at odd angles, hiding those I couldn’t reach with tangled hair that, unkempt as it was, reached a hand’s length past my waist. I paused, staring down at the dress. Simple, modest, and white, its hem hit my big toe, too long for for my frame. Canseren style. I knew this dress. It took me only a moment to place it. 11 Eden. Princess Eden had worn this before. It was cut to her measurements. I shivered, considering what situation Renn’s sister had found herself in to have to discard this dress. She’d seemed hale enough on the deck, but I knew personally that looks could deceive. I hadn’t heard her scream, or any foul language regarding her person on the tongues of sailors. I hoped for the best. I might lose my mind if I didn’t. The king turned around before I gave him any indication of my state of dress, and he grinned at me in a way that made me feel covered in oil. “I thought that might suit you.” I did not ask why he had the princess’s gown. A casual servant in the castle likely would not have noticed it. And I could not let him think I was close to the royal family . . . or what was left of it. Relief, and I daresay a bit of elation, sparked in my chest. Something muted, like I was reading a story, but not truly feeling the sensations for myself. I pressed my hand to my breastbone, then drank more from the water bladder to hide the sudden shift in emotion. What, Renn? I wondered. Had he discovered a strategy against Sesta? Had he recruited new soldiers, or obtained useful information? I couldn’t know where he’d ended up after my capture, but the sensations I received made it feel like he was fighting back, or at least trying to. He felt like the other end of a dream. I’d never wake up without him. A knock came at the door. I stepped aside—even a king’s cabin on a ship was small—and a crewman came in carrying a wooden tray with strange foods on it. Sestan foods, with sauces and fried patties and a strange fluffy grain. He set it down on the small table in the room, bowed, and left. “Sit.” King Nicosia gestured to the chair nearest me. “I’m not going to poison you.” Of course he wouldn’t, unless he wanted his precious information to die with me. So I sat and started eating without invitation. The king watched me for a full minute before taking a seat and serving himself in 12a more dignified manner. I didn’t care. I was not here to impress him, nor to help him. “Why are you so mistrusting of me, Miss Tallowax?” he asked, that honeycomb sweetness returning. I’d had plenty of time to ruminate on the best way to answer his questions, and I’d practiced with Ursa as well. I could not be silent forever. That might indict me more than words would. “Because you burned down my home and captured me against my will. What kind of a question is that?” I easily could have been born and raised in Rove, for all he knew. Though with the draft, he could figure I’d come from afar. He nodded. “I do apologize. My army got a little . . . out of hand. The general has been disciplined.” Liar, I thought, and ate bland grain and tart sauce. “And you lived in the castle?” I bided my time before answering, glad to have the excuse of chewing food to mull over my responses. “I served there.” “Served Prince Renn.” “I served anyone who needed healing.” I took a long drink from the bladder, swallowing its last drops. The king offered me wine, but I did not accept it. The last thing I wanted was inebriation. Not when I had so much to protect. “The Noblewights, the servants, the livestock.” “And what’s so special about you, hm?” he asked. “Why you over the many others who’d come for the same position?” I shrugged. “I guess I’m fast. I’d be happy to demonstrate.” Demonstrating would mean hurting him first, but I need not explain that. The way the king’s lip turned up, he understood my meaning. “You are not a very . . . demure servant, are you?” I set down my fork. “Why should I be?” I asked around a mouthful of meat. I swallowed, letting genuine frustration leak into my voice. “I was hired against my will and forced to take unpaid work for nobility who didn’t give a pig’s backside about me, my family, or my people. Nobility who would have killed me for the craft had their precious baby not fallen ill.” He reached across the table to touch my hand. Outwardly, it would seem a sign of comfort, but I knew what he wanted. Knew that focus in his eyes. He was trying to read me again, dive into my thoughts. But my basalt wall held firm. He released me a moment later. “Why won’t you let me understand you? Truly understand you. Surely you do not despise the craft of mindreading, when you yourself have experienced so much prejudice against your own.” I glowered at him. “My thoughts and memories are mine. I do not wish to share them with anyone.” “Not even your family? Your husband?” I frowned. “No.” All the better if he thought me married. The half-heart connection aside, if King Nicosia understood how Renn and I felt about each other, he could still use me against him. My own guilt twisted in my gut. Renn had already lost so much. If I’d grasped the chill of death clinging to the castle, if I’d been able to save Adrinn in time . . . how might these events have transpired differently? King Nicosia leaned back then, folding his arms, studying me. I glanced at the mastiff, wondering if I could possibly grab the beast by the collar and haul it overboard with me. Would the dog sink and drown me with him, or would he swim and keep us afloat? I could swim decently, but not for long. Not in the icy waves of Salm’s Rest. As the king watched me, his smile slowly faded. “Well. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other better.” He slid the wine toward me. “Tell me about yourself.” Full, I pushed back from the table as much as the small cabin would allow me. “You first. Please.” He chuckled. “Such heartless disrespect for chivalry you have, Miss Tallowax. It surprises me, the way women are treated in Cansere. I wouldn’t think you’d have the opportunity to develop it as you have.” 14 My stomach churned, trying to remember what to do with the food I’d given it. I dowsed to soothe it, only to have the king’s toe hook around a leg of my chair and jerk me forward. “None of that.” “I feel sick,” I shot back. “I was deprived for five days and just gorged. Of course I feel sick.” “Then I suggest you drink something. Slowly this time.” I met his eyes, staring, waiting for my stomach to settle. Did not touch the wine. Sighing, he handed me a new waterskin. I sipped at it contents, then pulled it away and sniffed. “You’re rather smart,” he offered. “You son of a whore.” My tongue started to thicken in my mouth. He’d put something in the water. He shrugged. “You’ll be easier cargo this way. Don’t take it personally.” I absolutely did, even as my body went slack in the chair and teetered over. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t slip away and let him beat down my carefully placed wall. The moment I hit the floor, I dowsed, my lumis tipping and shifting as I tried to focus on where the drug made the stones of my crenellated wall slick. Tried to clear as much as I could before— “Wake up, Nym,” Ursa whispered. “It’s been too long. He’s going to try to fight his way in.” I blearily opened my eyes. I lay in the hold again, soulbound to the mastiff. I could feel the tether linked somewhere behind my breastbone. My heart beat weakly, sickly. I hadn’t been able to refuel the magic holding it together. “Be quiet,” she urged. My body weighed a thousand pounds. Closing my eyes, I tried to keep my breathing even and slipped into my lumis. It shimmered 15before my eyes, the way a hot road shimmers with summer heat. I fed the pieces of my heart first, steadying it. Then, leaning against the basalt wall, I pulled magic into me, demanding extra through Ursa, and bade the wall grow thicker, harder. Imagined it forming a sphere beneath the floor, guarding my lumis from all sides, even the unseen. As much as I could before he drugged me again. I had to stay ahead of him. King Nicosia may have had all three forms of craftlock, but I had a second healer within me. I prayed to Alm, god over healing, that it would be enough. A flicker of worry, deep in my chest. Like the scent of an oncoming storm. Renn, I thought, and pushed myself harder, channeling as much magic as I could. I heard approaching footsteps as my consciousness slipped again. You will not have him, I promised, and sank into the black. ...