Emily POV

I sat in the corner of the tavern, my third ale warming in my hand. The liquid sloshed slightly as my fingers trembled, not from the alcohol but from the rage that had been simmering in my chest for months.

The scar on my finger throbbed. It always did when I thought about her.

Selene.

The bitch who’d stolen everything from me without even trying.

I pressed down on the scar, welcoming the sharp pain. Remembering the cold fury in Sylvester’s eyes as he’d held the knife to my ...