The mist had cleared from the sea to expose the high walls of Mysthaven. So high they were they stretched as far as the eye could see, rolling into infinity. But from her chamber, Elena could spot the waves crashing against the rocks below. She'd lost count of the times the thought of jumping from her window and falling hard on those spiky rocks crossed her mind.
"Sometimes, death is a kindness," her father used to say. Was it still a kindness to Andrian, to him and her mother. Death to her was a cruel thief that stole your loved ones without warning. She despised it.
But to some people, the statement could be true. To her and Gabriel, it resonated well with their lives. But no more. The fact that she was all that was left of the Thornhart's disturbed her mind. Mysthaven had no current ruler, and the patriarchal council would stop at nothing to keep a woman miles away from the ancient throne.
