The Crown Prince's palace drowned in a stifling, oppressive gloom.
Clarice sank deeper into restless agitation with each passing day.
Ever since that nameless corpse had been found in the storeroom, the Crown Prince had withdrawn from her completely.
Now Alistair spent every waking hour doggedly piecing together the truth behind that catastrophic fire.
He pushed himself beyond exhaustion, neglecting meals and forsaking sleep, until his health crumbled, leaving him feverish and bedridden for days on end.
Haunted by memories, Alistair dreamed of Josephine night after night.
There she was, snatching him from the brutal hands of palace guards, peeling away his torn, bloodstained robes to dress his wounds with featherlight touches.
The past unfolded in his mind like a heady, dreamlike tr
