Inside the cold cell, Ares delivered his judgment. He used her full name to do it, the way a court seals a sentence, and then he drew his sword and there was one swift motion and the first life of Averifa Sheram came to an end.
Her consciousness went out slowly, in red petals falling through the dark, and as it went she made a final and entirely desperate plea. She prayed that Ares would know suffering without end. She prayed, too — if such a thing could be granted, if anything at all was listening in that place — that she would be sent back.
With her last breath she swore she would never love that man again.
Then, in those last fleeting moments, she was given something beautiful and false. Ares was there in front of her, and he was speaking gently, and the illusion was so kind that she wished with everything left in her that the dream would go on forever. She knew what it was. A final vision. The mind offering the dying woman the one thing the world never had.
Her eyes shot open. She was alive.
Confused, she put a hand to her own neck, remembering the sharp finality of the blade, and a voice she knew far too well spoke her nickname.
"Rifa."
It was Ares. Seeing him sparked a rage so deep-seated it seemed to come up out of the floor.
"Why," she said, "are you calling me that? Now? You never once called me that. Not in our entire miserable life together."
The darkness closed. The voice came again, familiar, saying the same small name.
"Rifa."
With a jolt her eyes flew open.
A woman was leaning over her with a worried face.
"What's the matter with you?"
Averifa could not speak. She was looking at her mother.
This, whatever it was, was not the eternal punishment she had been expecting. She turned her head and took in the room — the ornate ceiling, the tall windows, the pattern of the carpet — and recognition hit her like cold water. She knew this place. She knew it instantly. It was Nozenleaf's castle, the very castle she had visited relentlessly after first falling for Ares, the one she had haunted like a girl possessed. She could never forget a single corner of it as long as she existed.
Then she caught her own reflection, and a much younger version of herself looked back.
The impossible truth came down on her with overwhelming force. She had traveled back into the past. She had been given a second chance.
"Are you all right?"
A man with an eye patch was watching her with polite concern, and she recognized him at once. Ares's father. The powerful Duke of Nozenleaf.
The whole scene arranged itself into horrifying sense. She was in Nozenleaf's castle. Her mother was beside her. Outside the windows, it was snowing.
This was the exact moment her engagement to Ares had been decided. This was the hour that sealed her fate.
"Ares has just returned, as it happens," the Duke said. He seemed mildly surprised by his own news. "Unusual. He always seemed to go out of his way to avoid you." He smiled at her, entirely pleased. "It's the perfect opportunity. We may as well finalize the engagement while he's here."
Panic took Averifa by the throat.
"Mother," she said, "we're going home. Now."
Her mother looked at her as though she had begun speaking a foreign language. "We came all this way for this meeting."
Averifa did not have time to explain, and could not have explained. She only knew that she had to be out of this castle before Ares walked into the room. She bowed to the Duke, hastily and far too low.
"Forgive me. Please excuse me."
And she ran.
She would not waste this. Going down the corridor, with the snow coming past the windows and her heart going like a hammer, Averifa made herself a solemn vow.
This time she would not be driven mad by something like love. She had no ambitions left. Her one goal was a quiet life, well clear of every entanglement of her past.
At home, with firm resolve, she sat down and drafted a formal letter to the Duke of Nozenleaf. She apologized sincerely for her rudeness the other day. She humbly requested that their engagement be officially annulled.
She sealed it and called for her attendant.
"Feely."
He came promptly, as he always did. She held the letter out.
"Take this to the Duke. Immediately."
"Of course, my lady." He took it, and then, before withdrawing, he lifted a cloak from the chair and settled it gently over her shoulders. "You've been traveling all day without rest. You should sleep."
She thanked him. But she watched him a moment longer than she needed to, because there was something in the way he stood there that said he was holding something back.
Before she could ask what it was, another figure appeared in the doorway.
Her mother looked at her daughter for a long moment.
"You've only just got home," she said. "Sit down."
Her expression was firm, and it left no room at all for argument.
"You owe me a serious explanation," she said, "for this sudden change of heart."