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Dacre had done far worse than defy him. He had helped me escape. I had been his enemy. I represented the thing he hated most. I was a threat to everything he stood for. And still, he had chosen me. Even after the betrayal, after learning my true identity, after every reason I had given him to turn away, he had protected me. He had given me the most dangerous weapon of all. Hope.
“What are you doing here?” I pleaded, raw with disbelief. “I’m here for you, Nyra,” he murmured the only name he had ever known me by. Micah.