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cleared her throat. "Don't give me that look. You don't understand."
    "I do understand." Raluca crossed the small distance between them and held her hand out
    to her.
    Needing to feel comfort, Retta took Raluca's hand and then gasped as a spike of hotness
    tore through her. It ripped her from this room out into a lightless void that was searing and
    frightening. She heard winds howling in her ears as something whipped against her body.
    She held her hand up to protect her eyes as a sudden light pierced the darkness.
    No longer in the manor, she found herself in the small cottage where she'd taken refuge with
    Velkan after their families had learned of their marriage. His family had disowned him and
    her father had vowed to see Velkan dead. And it'd been her father who'd found them first.
    Completely disembodied, she stood in the corner where she could watch Velkan , who was
    kneeling beside her comatose body. Because they were in hiding, he didn't wear the armor
    of a warrior. He was dressed in a simple tunic and hose. To her utter shock, there were
    tears in his eyes as he held her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. She'd never seen him
    look so vulnerable.
    "I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered, lowering her hand from his face. " Raluca will see
    you safe for me. Please don't be angry that I'm leaving you. It's the only way I know to free
    you to live the life you deserve." He rose up so that his lips were only an inch above her own.
    "I love you, Esperetta .' Always." And then he pressed his lips to hers before he tore away
    with a growl.
    Still, she saw the lone tear that slid from the corner of his eye, down his whiskered cheek.
    He brushed it away before he turned and opened the door to their cottage.
     
    There before him was her father with his army. Dressed in armor, her father wore no helm to
    cover his stern, chiseled features. His long black hair brushed his shoulders as he narrowed
    his black eyes on her husband. She winced at the rage that contorted her father's face.
    Never once had she seen this side of him. To her, her father had only been loving and
    indulgent. Kind. Velkan drew his sword and stood there as if to take all of them on.
    "You're outnumbered, boy," her father snarled. "Is this how you would die?"
    "In battle, aye. It's what I prefer." Velkan glanced back over his shoulder. "But you promised
    me that you'd allow my servants to take Esperetta home for a proper burial. Do you still
    swear it?"
    Her father's lip curled before he nodded.
    Velkan planted the blade of his sword into the ground beside his foot. "Then I surrender to
    your…" he paused before he said, "mercy," from between gritted teeth.
    Two of her father's men dismounted before they came to take Velkan . As soon as they held
    him, her father slid from his horse. He came forward with an angry swagger.
    "She's dead," Velkan spat, trying to free himself. "Leave her in peace."
    Her father scoffed as he entered the cottage and moved to stand beside her. Retta held her
    breath as she saw the pain that darkened his brow. His lips quivered ever so slightly as he
    looked down on her body. He lifted his hand to press it against her mouth and nose so that
    he could hold them closed.
    "I told you," Velkan said, his voice rife with anger. "She's dead."
    Her father jerked the dagger from his waist as he turned on Velkan with a fierce curse.
    "She's nothing but a Danesti whore." And then her father plunged the dagger straight into
    her heart.
    Velkan let loose a cry so anguished that it made every hair on her body stand up as he
    shook off the men who held him and grabbed his sword. Before he could pull it free, two
    arrows were shot into his back—one striking his shoulder, the other to the left of his spine.
    Velkan stumbled to the side, and when he failed to go down, another arrow was shot into his
    leg. He cried out, reaching for the fallen sword. Until another arrow was embedded into his
    forearm.
    "Don't kill him!" her father roared.