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years and the soul-chilling armor of her father’s twisted spell, then they were all lost. Her father would rule and Elden would become another Abyss.
     
    H AVING BEEN “ PERMITTED ” time enough for a meal, she found herself in the great hall, perhaps half an hour later, able to feel hundreds of eyes on her—as she had the day she’d landed frail and disoriented on the marble floor. But when she raised her head in stiff pride, ready to stare down the audience, she saw only emptiness. “Who is watching?”
    The Lord of the Black Castle turned from where he’d put one booted foot on the steps that led to the throne colored the same eponymous shade, as hard and lacking in ornamentation as the man himself. “The residents,” he said, as if that were self-evident.
    “The residents?” she pushed, fighting the urge to hug her arms around herself. “From the Abyss?” Legend said that despite the pitiless task that was his nightly duty, theGuardian was always pure of heart. In this ancient legend she’d placed her faith, but if he allowed the putrid souls destined for the Abyss to linger above…
    “Of course not.” A grim stare that raised every tiny hair on her body. “There are other souls who are drawn to the Black Castle.”
    “Why?”
    “They come and they do not leave.” An answer that told her she was trying his patience with her questions. “The Black Castle welcomes them.”
    Liliana felt a glimmer of understanding, wondered if she might have more allies than she believed.
    “You will tell the tale now.” It was an order as he took his seat on the throne.
    Hairs still standing up in alarm, she nonetheless put her hands on her hips and said, “It would be easier if I didn’t have to shout, my lord!” He sat high and remote, an arrogant emperor.
    He gestured her forward. “You may sit at my feet.”
    Dropping them from her hips, Liliana fisted her hands by her sides, her entire body rigid. Sit at his feet? Like an animal? No. If her father hadn’t broken her after a lifetime, then the Guardian of the Abyss surely would not! But when she would’ve opened her mouth, given voice to her fury, she felt ghostly fingers on her lips, almost heard a whisper in her ear.
    The shock of it cut through her conditioned response, tempered her rage, made her think.
    Looking up into the face of the dark lord who’d commanded her, she saw impatience, saw, too, a quicksilver anticipation. “Is it an honor, my lord?” she asked, realization shimmering a golden rain through her veins. “To sit below your throne?”
    “You ask strange questions, Liliana.” It was the firsttime he’d said her name, and it felt akin to a spell on its own, wrapping her in tendrils of black that gleamed with bright green highlights. “This throne is only for the Guardian. Any imposter who dares sit here will die a terrible death.”
    And so it was a great honor for her to be allowed so close.
    Keeping that in mind, she swallowed her pride and climbed the steps to the throne—but instead of taking a seat at his feet, for that she couldn’t do, not for anyone, she perched herself several feet away, so she could turn and face him. “Once upon a time,” she began, her blood thunder in her veins—because it could all end now, with a single misstep—“there was a land called Elden.”
    Whispers rolling around the room, ghostly murmurs gaining in volume.
    “Quiet!” The lord cut the air with a slicing hand.
    Silence reigned.
    “Continue.”
    Curiosity about the ghostly residents danced nimble and quick through her veins, but she kept it in check. First, she must discover if the Abyss had saved the last heir—or if it had consumed him. “This land, this Elden, it was a place of grace and wonder. Its people grew old at so slow a pace that some called them immortal, but they were not true immortals, for they could die, but only after hundreds of years of life, of learning.
    “Because of their great love of this last, they were