Prologue
Gemma, once queen of the Cadrik, leaned lazily in the open palace window, her gaze drifting to the courtyard where her fair-haired foster son played. The sunlight caught in his golden hair as he dashed after a scrappy pup, his laughter carrying on the breeze. One day, he would grow tall, strong—taller than her even. He would stride confidently down the old paths of magic, leading their adopted island into greatness. What she had failed to achieve, this boy would conquer. She saw it in every graceful, stumbling step he took. A smile tugged at her lips. Yes, there was so much promise in him, a boy young enough to be her grandson, yet filled with potential she could already sense would surpass her own.
He tripped over his own feet, and Gemma instinctively reached for him, her heart catching, even though she knew she was too far to stop his fall. But the boy righted himself with surprising quickness, laughter bubbling out of him as he gave the dog a playful chase. Pride swelled within her. His balance was as sharp as his wit, as keen as his ever-growing curiosity.
For a moment, another face flickered across her memory—a face twisted in its final agony, a grimace frozen in death as her dagger slid free. Rian, her son. He had been promising too. The demon that tore through the valley city of Caslo, summoned by Rian’s Blood, had exacted her revenge on those accursed dwarves. The image was still vivid: the gateway to the Veil of Memories and Valla opening. That doorway would have allowed an army of demons to pour into this world, destroying anyone in her way. She had lived for revenge then, and revenge alone.
But time had softened her. Ten years away from her homeland had taught her more than vengeance ever could—humility, patience...and something like love. The boy playing in the courtyard, willed to her by Norda, a Cadrik soldier’s wife, had cracked open her cold heart. He was not hers by blood, but he was hers in every way that mattered.
Most of her tribe had stayed across the waters, but a few loyal Cadrik had followed her into exile. The human Rock Corps soldiers had claimed the Cadrik women as wives, eager to bind themselves to their willowy frames and fierce eyes. Monogamy had never been the Cadrik way—it was a human practice, after all—but it surprised her how quickly the women accepted those chains once children tied them to their marriages. The offspring of these unions inherited the swiftness and ambition of the Cadrik, as well as their gifts for walking the old paths of spirit. And this boy, her son now, was the finest of them all.
But Norda had given her more than just an heir on her deathbed. She had reignited the flame of ambition that Gemma had once thought snuffed out.
“Mother!”
The boy’s voice pulled her back to the present. He ran toward her, his cheeks flushed from exertion and the kiss of the sun. Two bright flames burned in his fair skin, and his eyes sparkled with intelligence far beyond his nine years.
“Are you ready to come in, lad?” she called from her perch, already knowing the answer.
He bounded up to the windowsill, his blue eyes locking onto hers with fierce affection. He didn’t see the wrinkles around her eyes or the gray strands in her hair as flaws. He loved her all the more for the wisdom they represented. He told her so every day. He was such a serious child, far too grown for his years, reminding her of her other son—the one she had spared.
“Yes,” he replied eagerly, his voice still high with the sweetness of childhood. “I’m starving! We’ve been out so long.”
“Hunger is good,” she murmured, more to herself than him.
“What was that, Mother?”
“Nothing, darling,” she smiled, shifting stiffly in her seat. “Just cursing these old bones for moving slower than I’d like.”
He grabbed her hand, tugging at her sleeve with the playful force of youth, listing all the dishes he would have the cooks prepare for them. His enthusiasm was infectious, and she couldn’t help but chuckle as he prattled on, his voice full of life and energy.
An insatiable child, she thought, her heart full. And perhaps, one day, insatiable in ambition as well.
