SARAPHINA’S POV

I found myself behind the stables, pressed against the weathered wood where no one could see me fall apart. The tears wouldn't stop coming. They poured out of me like I was hemorrhaging, hot and endless and stupid. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it was useless.

From henceforth, you're dead to me, Saraphina Maychild.

His words echoed in my head, each repetition like a fresh knife wound. The way he'd said my full name—cold, formal, like I was ...