Mo stared at the bloodstained floor, unable to drive the image from his mind.

  The moment the pike had gone through her chest.

  Her scream.

  Her whimper as she collapsed into him.

  The way she bled out in his arms.

  He sank back into his chair and stared into the fireplace, the fire consuming his focus.

  The grandfather clock chimed.

  Mo whipped around toward the door.

  Why hadn’t she returned? It had been over two days. She should have been back yesterday.

  He forced himself to look away from the door and back to the fire.

  What if I really killed her?

  What if it didn’t work this time?

  A sound broke his thoughts.

  He stood and crossed to the door.

  “Anna”

  The door crashed inward.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Imperial guardsmen flooded the cabin.

  “Moshala Lombell.”

  Mo froze. “Yes?” His voice shook.

  The commander stepped forward, an older man with a thick mustache and piercing eyes. He smirked and gestured to his colleague.

  “Cuff him.”

  “What?” Mo protested. “Why?”

  His mind raced. How did they know he was here? How did they know about this place?

  They dragged him outside toward a carriage waiting on the road. He was thrown inside, and the commander joined him as guards took the front and rear compartments.

  The staff knocked. The carriage lurched forward.

  No. No. No.

  Anna would return alone.

  “Why am I being apprehended?” Mo asked, forcing himself to meet the commander’s gaze, then immediately looking away.

  “All in due time, boy,” the man said. “Though I suspect you already know why.”

  Mo’s stomach dropped. Do they know about Anna? About Sten?

  “It’s by order of the court,” the commander continued. “Not the Bureau of Justice and Executions.”

  He smiled thinly. “You’ll learn your charge in the Pit.”

  The Pit.

  No one came back from the Pit.

  “I haven’t done anything,” Mo said, but even he could hear the guilt in his voice.

  The commander laughed. “Of course you haven’t. They’re all innocent there.”

  His laughter made Mo queasy. The cigar smoke finished the job.

  Mo vomited, bright green across the seat and the commander’s boots.

  The staff knocked. The carriage screeched to a halt.

  The commander flung the door open and shoved Mo out. “Have him empty his guts over there. Then clean him up.”

  He pointed at another guard. “You, clean these.”

  As Mo retched, the guard grabbed him. Mo caught sight of a raised club.

  He snatched it and swung once.

  The guard dropped.

  “Stop him!” someone shouted.

  Mo ran.

  The frozen forest tore at his lungs. He tripped, slammed face-first into the ground.

  Footsteps closed in.

  “There you are, you little rat!” a guard shouted, raising his club.

  And then Mo saw her.

  Anna stood at the edge of the trees.

  She wore a black dress he had never seen before. A bow tied in her hair.

  The world didn’t make sense anymore.

  The club came down.

  Darkness.