All Feyla Everbloom wants is to leave her past behind and marry her fiancé, Sedgewick Alverdyne, a mage and the Minister of Magic.
But when a wizard out for revenge threatens the city, Feyla's past reaches out and forces her back into the Healer's G...
The only thing heavier then chains were broken hearts. Feyla lay on the cool floor of the small, bare room she'd been thrown in. She curled her knees to her chest and held her wrists against her heart. The frigid metal of the cuffs dug into her skin but she was too exhausted to be bothered by it. Sandrina and Mydel had been taken elsewhere and she could only hope and pray that they hadn't been killed.
Sedgewick.
A shuddering sob wracked her chest and escaped as a wordless cry. Her eyes stung but her tears had dried up hours ago and left behind the throbbing headache now beating against her temple. Sandrina had been right. Everything she'd tried to fix had only become worse.
Her failures pounded against her to the time of her aching head. Desden was free and close to corrupting his brother. The Magic Ministry had lost its creator and his second-in-command. The Healer's Guild was going up in flames.
Maybe Mother's right. I can't handle anything myself.
Who was she to think that she could be the hero, that she could don a white cloak and stitch up her problems like a wound? She wasn't even capable of saving the man she loved. Her own mother didn't even trust her.
All her life she had fought to prove that she was smart, capable, lovable.
And all she'd done was show everyone the opposite.
Feyla rested her head back on the floor and whimpered tearlessly.
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Mageus's head was pounding.
Puzzles. Magic. Spells. These he pulled to the forefront of his mind. He carved another line of runes into the massive disc in front of him.
Soft hands pressing the book away. Hands tracing the planes of his face, pulling him closer so she could—
Mageus gave a violent shake of his head. He gripped the carving tool in his palm and cut another section of ugly, jagged lines into the essantium. Lines meant for channeling black magic. They marred the rest of his perfect spell, but Carrow has refused to give him the additional time he needed to figure out the true answer to the puzzle instead of crudely filling in the blanks with black magic.
He narrowed his eyes as he reached a particularly delicate section.
Eyes. Deep, blue-green eyes wet with tears. Eyes lidded with longing and desire. Eyes churning like a wild sea.
"I've come to save you."
Mageus snorted. He didn't want saving.
"You're more than a moment..."
No, no, he was not going to think of that sappy—
"...you're my forever."
The tool slipped and Mageus cursed. A useful piece of vocabulary to remember. Stupid phrase, stupid distraction, stupid woman.
