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anyone?”
    She didn’t wait for a response and Erick didn’t offer one. The moment they emerged from the trees Emmeline’s eyes traveled over the flickering candles in the windows. Her stomach lurched. She pressed a palm to her stomach and wiped the feeling away. She had no reason to feel nervous. Erick wouldn’t let anyone gain control of her, nor would she submit to anyone. But would she be able to resist the fire’s pull once she opened herself up to it? With both Mahlon and Prince Weldon, the flames had called to her and she’d lost control of herself. Would she be able to stop herself if that happened again?
    As they neared the palace entrance, the shadowed man moved out from behind a tree. His face remained obscured by darkness and Emmeline wondered if it was coincidence that the overhanging branch shadowed his identity, or if he had positioned himself on purpose. Erick pulled his sword and just as Emmeline prepared to open herself to the flames, a glint off Erick’s sword flashed across the man’s face. Her breath caught in her throat.
    Mahlon.
    Emmeline’s chest constricted and her mind took her back to the carriage where Mahlon had managed to take control of her power, where a small flame had taunted her until its heat slithered into her body. She found herself gasping for air. She wasn’t ready to face Mahlon yet. His control over her still felt so raw.
    “I must speak with His Royal Highness this very night,” a strange voice said.
    Emmeline’s head jerked up and she watched as the man emerged from the shadows. He wasn’t Mahlon, just a messenger. Pulling his bent wrist across his mouth, he gave them a weak smile.
    “ I am Prince Richmond Frederick,” Erick said, although his eyes were on Emmeline, a worried expression pulling at his brow
    The man reached into his pack and pulled out a piece of paper. “Your Highness, I have an urgent letter from Volarcus.” The paper shook in his outstretched hand.
    Erick glanced around and then looked at the man. “Are you alone?”
    “Yes .” The messenger drew his eyebrows together as if confused by Erick’s question.
    Erick sheathed his sword and reached out to take the letter. “Why didn’t you come to front gates?”
    “ Forgive me, Highness,” the messenger uttered, his eyes flicking to the bushes skirting the palace. “I’m afraid I overestimated my strength.”
    The stench of vomit wafted in the air and Emmeline resisted the urge to cover her n ose.
    As if in an attempt to recover his dignity, t he messenger rolled his shoulders back. “The Volarcus scribe found the letter buried under a pile of papers in his office. He claims to have never seen it before, but due to its urgent inscriptions, he requested I bring it to you without further delay.”
    Erick glanced at the paper and then brought his head up sharply. “It’s dated over a month ago,” he said, his displeasure showing in the lowering cadence of his voice.
    The messenger swallowe d and bobbed his head. “Forgive me, Your Grace. The delay is unforgivable. I came as quickly as I was able. I did not stop.”
    Emmeline took a closer look at the messenger. His eyes were streaked with red, his pale brow wet with perspiration. His horse heaved nearby and while its head hung low, it did not graze.
    “ Thank you for your haste,” Erick said. “You are a guest of Dolmerti’s now. You may rest in the palace for as long as you need.”
    Emmeline stiffened. She knew she had no reason to worry about a simple messenger, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread hanging in the air. Knowing her unease was likely because she had mistaken him for Mahlon, she tried to push the feeling away. But what if, while staying in the place, he discovered she was an Incenaga. Would he try to control her? She shook her head. She had the protection of a dozen guards. Even if he tried to get to her, the guards would stop him. But where were the guards now? Why weren’t there any standing outside the