Veil of Shadows

Preface

The wind cut through the cemetery like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. I stood at the edge of my father's grave, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, trying to feel anything other than the icy numbness creeping through me. The sky above was a flat, oppressive gray, the kind that swallowed the light and left everything dull and lifeless. Fitting, I thought, for the day Vincenzo Moretti was laid to rest.

My father's coffin, polished and pristine, seemed out of place against the cold, unyielding earth. He would have hated it, being so vulnerable, so exposed. But in death, even he could not escape the inevitable. The man who had commanded armies with a single look, who had ruled this city with an iron fist, was now just a body being lowered into the ground. No amount of power could change that.

I hadn't cried. The tears wouldn't come, locked deep inside me like a secret I couldn't afford to reveal. In our world, grief was a luxury, and I wasn't about to give these people—these vultures circling around me—any more reason to doubt my strength. They were here for the spectacle, to see how the daughter of a king would react when her kingdom began to crumble.

The priest's voice droned on, reciting prayers I barely heard. His words were nothing more than a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in my mind. Around me, the men in black suits offered their hollow condolences, their eyes hard and calculating, already plotting their next moves. They weren't here to mourn Vincenzo Moretti; they were here to assess the situation, to see who would rise and who would fall.

I felt their stares, the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. But I didn't acknowledge them. I had learned long ago that trust was a currency spent only once, and mine was bankrupt. In this world, you kept your cards close to your chest, and your emotions even closer.

As the final words were spoken and the coffin disappeared beneath the earth, I allowed myself to lift my gaze, scanning the crowd with cold detachment. Familiar faces blurred into one, their expressions of sorrow nothing more than masks they wore for the occasion. But then, in the distance, someone caught my eye.

He stood at the back, half-hidden in the shadows of a towering oak tree, his dark coat blending into the gloom. My breath caught in my throat as recognition hit me like a blow. Lucas Thorne. The man I had once loved—and the man I had vowed never to see again.

His eyes met mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The weight of the past crashed over me, pulling me under, drowning me in memories I had fought so hard to forget. He was a ghost from a life I thought I'd left behind, and yet here he was, standing in the shadows, watching me bury my father.

I forced myself to look away, to turn my back on him as I had before. But even as I walked away from the grave, the cold knot of dread in my stomach told me that this time, there would be no escaping him.

Not now. Not ever.