Excerpt from Ash’s Journal - November 29, 4-1892

  Dahlia is many things, but she’s not a killer. If threatened, she may defend herself, but she doesn’t want to cause harm unless in self-defense. Even then, I think she’d find it difficult to kill solely in defense of herself. Over the years, I tried to break her hesitation to kill, but I had little luck.

  Every time she killed her prey in the forests surrounding Firen—rabbits, deer, and fowls—she hesitated, no matter how often I made her kill them. She despises taking a life—even if it is the right thing to do. When we stumbled upon an injured deer, it took me an hour to convince her to track it down and put it out of its misery. She cried as she stalked the deer to its final resting place. She cried as she brought the regal creature down. She even cried as she skinned it. Pathetic, really, but that’s just how she is.

  Forrest was the same way. Her eldest brother puts on a tough fa?ade, but he and Dahlia share a sensitive nature. She is most like Forrest, but I can’t help but see a little of each of her siblings in her at times. Dahlia looks like Camellia—pretty, with her wide, green eyes and heart-shaped face. She has Heather’s attitude, though—her defiance. They both have such an incredible ability to get under my skin. But Dahlia’s heart is as golden as Ashford’s—I have no doubt they’d both give up their lives for those they care about.

  Dahlia

  Just days after the assault on Firen, when the city was well on its way to recovery, I returned to Portia’s office one morning to get back to work. The walk across Firen was calm, and all was quiet. Few were out this time of morning when the sun hadn’t fully risen over the mountains in the distance. Still, I sensed no danger in the air.

  Strange, considering I always had an Imm shadow following me. It seemed today they had other plans—plans that didn’t involve watching me.

  As I entered Portia’s large warehouse, I greeted some of the workers there before heading to Portia’s office down the long hallway at the back of the building. My soft footfalls sounded muted on the hard stone floor, so I could hear Portia and Max speaking behind the closed, heavy wooden door as I approached.

  But when I pushed open the door, their conversation stopped in an instant, the sudden hush in the office making me stop in the doorway to observe the pair.

  They’d been talking about me—that much was obvious.

  I looked down at Portia, where she was seated behind her large desk, noting the green apple sitting in the same spot that Councilwoman Hastings had left an apple several weeks before when she’d confronted me here. It wasn’t the same apple—couldn’t be—but it was too strange not to point out.

  I gestured to it with casual indifference, “Did that come from Hastings?”

  Portia pressed her lips tightly together as she looked down at the apple, but she didn’t answer.

  She didn’t have to.

  Councilwoman Hastings had been here—recently, too.

  “It’s not like you need to hide it from me. I know the Redmond guards are all on your payroll now. I assumed you were involved in other business with the Predictors,” I stepped forward and snatched the apple from Portia’s desk before slumping in the chair beside Max and taking a crisp bite of it.

  The apple was more sour than sweet—not at all to my taste—but I ate it anyway.

  I continued, mouth still full, “Seems only natural that Hastings would stop by.”

  Portia eyed my mouth as I chewed, and I knew she had something she was dying to say about my poor manners, but she kept her opinion to herself and instead asked her usual, most-pressing question, “What have you learned about the Reaper?”

  So predictable.

  “You didn’t even greet me this time,” I took another bite of the apple, chewed, and swallowed before asking, “Why? Is Hastings still trying to get rid of him?”

  “Everyone is trying to get rid of him,” Portia hissed before pressing her fingertips to her forehead and calming her tone, “The Imms came yesterday too—they threatened us.”

  “Oh?” I feigned disinterest and turned to look at Max, “Sounds scary. Did you stand up to them this time, or did you two lose your nerve without me around?”

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  Max gave me a pointed look as he ran his fingers through his neat beard, “Not everyone has Imm blood to protect them, Dee. We can’t afford to stand up to them.”

  I snorted a laugh, “My Imm blood will probably be the death of me, not protection.”

  “Enough,” Portia cut in with a sigh, “This is becoming more urgent. The city was attacked, Dahlia. It's not just about the money now. We need you to find the Rea—”

  “For the last time, NO!” I snapped, sitting up straighter in my chair, “I’m not going after the Reaper. I’m not telling anyone when he decides to visit me—which he hasn’t done lately, by the way, because the Imms are stalking my every move. I’m not seducing him. I’m done. And if you want to tell the Imms that I’m a Halfling, I’ll be sure to tell them just how useful I was to you and your business over the years. I'm sure they'll love to know you'd been harboring a fugitive for seven years.”

  It was a gamble to threaten Portia like this, but I was inspired by a concern Mathy had mentioned to me recently. She was worried about her own family's welfare if the Imms ever discovered my heritage. We’d both decided to pretend she was oblivious to my bloodline.

  But I’d turn on Portia in a heartbeat if she dared to turn me in.

  Portia stared at me, jaw working as she gritted her teeth. She was furious but trying not to let me see it. Eventually, she gritted out, “You’re useless to me, then.”

  I felt my brows rise. Her conclusion seemed a little harsh, considering how much I'd done for her and her business.

  “Mother,” Max cut in with a sigh, “You said—”

  “I said I’d give her a chance to comply!” Portia gestured wildly to me, “But she is impossible! Even you must see that through whatever hold she has on you, Max!”

  Max furrowed his dark brows and looked over to me, holding my gaze for a long moment before asking, “You’re serious? You will side with the Reaper? You choose him over us—like we mean nothing to you?”

  “I’m not siding with anyone,” I clarified as I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged on the chair. “I’m neutral—not getting involved.”

  “You’re already involved,” Max scowled.

  “That’s enough.” Portia’s voice was mild now as she rose to stand behind her desk. “I have the Imms and the Predictors breathing down my neck, Dahlia. All anyone wants is for the Reaper to be gone. If you can’t make that happen, then I have no further need for your employment. You bring too much risk—risk we can't afford.”

  I laughed in disbelief, “You’re firing me? I push back on one issue—stand up for myself one time—and you fire me for it?”

  Portia shook her head, “If you aren’t willing to help, at least I can tell the Imms that you don’t work for me anymore. Maybe that will stop them from breathing down my neck for information.”

  I felt like I couldn't breathe. I'd spent seven years working for the Ferros. Now, more than ever, without my father around, I depended on them for money. I'd never had another job. And just like that, it was over.

  The seconds passed as I looked between the Ferros—both wearing identical, determined expressions. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Max sided with his mother over me in her decision to betray me after seven years of service to their family. He was never devoted to me in the way I needed him to be if we were to ever be more than companions.

  But somehow, his failure to take my side still hurt.

  Still, I wasn't about to let them see that hurt.

  I unwrapped my legs, set my feet on the ground, and rose. “So be it, then.”

  Forcing back tears of frustration, I turned to the door and called back in a controlled voice, “I still expect my last payment next week!”

  They didn’t respond.

  Taking deep breaths to steady myself, I made it through the heavy door and partway down the hallway when I heard Max’s heavy footsteps running after me. But I didn’t stop. I continued halfway across the warehouse before he stopped me with a heavy hand on my shoulder.

  I whirled on him, jabbing him hard in the chest as I snarled, letting loose every ounce of my frustration, “Seven years and you never stood up to your mother for me—not once! And now you just let her fire me like this?”

  “This is about our safety,” Max argued, taking my hand and urging, “It won’t change anything between us—I swear it.”

  “There is nothing between us.” I spat the words. “Especially now. You’re pathetic.”

  Yanking my arm away, I started to turn, but he gripped my shoulder to forcefully turn me to face him again and warn, “You can’t just walk away from me—I won’t allow it.”

  “Like you could stop me. I don’t want you, Max—get it through your thick skull!” I pushed him back with just enough force to put a few feet of distance between us.

  “This is about that goddamned Reaper, isn’t it?” Max growled, “I know you’ve been fucking other men behind my back—are you sleeping with him too?”

  “I’ve never—”

  “Like I’m going to believe anything you say,” Max sneered, “Did you think Al wouldn’t tell me about you and Verrin—and Yvan?”

  I felt my eyes widen, and Max chuckled, "Had to fire Yvan for that one—the asshole just wouldn't apologize."

  I hadn't known that, but it explained why Yvan hadn't been around lately.

  I frowned, and Max took a step closer, “What is it about that Reaper that has you so obsessed with him? Why do you risk everything for him?”

  I stared into Max’s brown eyes for a long moment before shaking my head and admitting, “I don’t owe you an answer, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you, Ferro.”

  I was forced to take a step back when Max's handsome face twisted with fury. He turned and punched the wall beside him as he snarled, “That’s not an option, Dahlia!”

  “Max!” Portia called out from her office doorway in a chastising tone, “Enough of this foolishness. You can't force her to stay. Let her go.”

  Max turned to look at his mother, and given how this fight had gone, I half expected him to tell her to fuck off.

  But Max always took his mother’s side.

  With a glare directed at me, Max turned to return to his mother’s side. Choosing her over me, for the last time.