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her bottomless dark eyes. Now, in the lamplight, I could detect tiny flecks of amber in the deep brown depths that I hadn’t noticed outside.
    Her lips parted slightly with unspoken words. I was close enough that I could count the smattering of freckles on her nose. They weren’t sun-kissed freckles. There was no chance for that. Not in this life.
    She stared back at me, her stare fixing dead center on my chest. An alarm went off in my head, warning me that something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t as it should be.
    â€œYou . . .” My voice faded as I struggled with an idea that couldn’t be possible.
    â€œWhat?” She lifted her chin, her expression mild, unaffected, her eyes now looking directly at me.
    Through me.
    My heart hammered in my ears as I slowly lifted a hand between us. Not touching, but simply putting it out there with all the stealth of a hunting predator. “You should have knocked.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy?” I echoed like I was testing the word, tasting it. This close, her body radiated a warmth that settled into the pores of my exposed skin. “Are you really so bold you don’t . . .” My voice constricted into that strangled hoarseness again. I looked down at myself and then back up to her face again. Still no reaction on her part. She folded her hands in front of her, the fingers laced. She wasn’t this bold. No. She was something else.
    I took her hand. She started at the sensation of my callused fingers on her softer skin. My pulse jumped and skittered at the base of my throat, but I ignored it, placing her chilled hand, palm flat, against my bare chest. Her fingers spread wide, each one a burning imprint.
    She made a choked, mewling sound.
    â€œBecause”—my voice scratched out of me—“I’m naked.”
    Fire scored her cheeks. It was the blush I expected when she first walked into the room.
    Now she knew.
    But she hadn’t known before.
    She gasped, tugging her hand. I held it against me for a moment before letting go. She pulled away as though stung. I stepped toward her, this time waving a hand before her face.
    â€œStop that,” she snapped, sensing the air stirring in front of her. Only sensing though. Not seeing. She swatted at my hand, stopping when her back hit the door.
    â€œYou—” My voice broke off and I dropped my arm.
    She shook her head fiercely. Her eyes gleamed, panic moving over her features. She reached for the door latch at her hip, ready to flee.
    But it was too late. I knew. And I said it.
    â€œYou can’t see.”

SIX
Luna
    T HE EXACT MOMENT of the eclipse, as darkness descended on the land, I entered the world. No one was paying much attention to my arrival in that moment except, of course, my mother, and the servants attending her. Even my father didn’t know, already off fighting the mad crowds banging for entry at the gates, unaware that there was nothing he could do to stop the dark tide from rolling in.
    But beyond that night, beyond my birth, the people ushering me into this world did not know that I lacked sight. There would have been no way for them to know then. Especially not with the distraction of thousands of dark dwellers breaking through theground and swarming like ants over the land. Such a distraction made it easy to ignore the birth of a princess.
    Perla, the wet nurse standing by at my birth, fled with me before I, too, was slaughtered. Sivo, one of my father’s royal guards, found us in a corridor. A mercenary in his earlier years, a warrior at heart, he reacted quickly, leading Perla from the castle. Together, they escaped through the melee of the capital and made it across the country to the secluded tower Sivo had discovered with my father all those years ago.
    My father had turned the tower into his private retreat, stocking it with supplies, enjoying its isolation and that no one knew of its existence. According to Sivo, he didn’t