Page 1 of Point of No Return

Part One

The Reckoning

Chapter One

Charlotte

My mother has always been a master of her art… but not the kind found on canvases or bottled and sold to the highest bidder. She’s cunning, clever. As skilled with her hands as she is with her words. I’ve always respected her for it. A hard fist and a quick tongue- a few of the many things I’ve grown to know her by.

Respect, admiration, resentment.The fine difference between words- normally a fickle, delicate thing. Even more so when it comes to a woman like Eva Orlova.

“Charlotte.” The smile is dripping from her voice as she pets a hand down my hair. “Why don’t you give our guest a proper greeting?”

I nearly scoff- nearly- butI know better.

Never have I respected my mother more than I do now. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for. I underestimated just how much. My eyes flicker over the man who just strolled through our front door. Round belly, silver hair, stern face, and harsh features. I recognize him immediately. The expensive, richly colored suit, or even the golden cane with a handle carved like that of a dragon’s head, should be what gives him away.

Instead, it’s the look on my mother’s face. The slightest upward tilt of her lips, the satisfied lift of her chin, the way her eyes narrow in on me expectantly. She’s waiting for me to piece it together myself.

It’s easy to guess who the man is; I’ve heard enough stories and listened to enough whispers around town to know when the most powerful man in Westos walks into your home:

Tyson Benenati.The Great Dragon.

I plaster on a brilliant smile, bowing my head. “Your reputation precedes you, General.”

The man tips his head back in a laugh- a hearty, boisterous sound. I should’ve known something was up when I saw the sleek black SUV in the driveway. The General’s gray eyes find mine, and he grins, his teeth crooked and lopsided.

“Please, child. I think my son’s future bride can call me Tyson.”

There’s no hiding the wave of shock that hits me, quick as lightning. The food I traded for in town earlier goes heavy in my stomach, and my tongue goes dry. My eyes flicker to my mother.

Cunning and clever, indeed.

The distinct scent of whiskey and cinnamon drifts from the kitchen, and I can tell it’s not dinner that’s been baking the few hours I’ve been gone. The familiar scent mixes with the tang of sweet peaches and cream. My mother only makes her Prevyain Persici Bake on special occasions… This isn’t just an ordinary visit.

It’s the closing of a business deal.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The words fall from my mouth mostly out of habit, but they’re tasteless as I turn toward my mother.

Her choice of towering heels and flowing midnight dress aren’t far from her usual attire, but the outrageous jewels glittering at her throat and wrists suddenly make a whole lot more sense. Along with the silk gloves that end just above her elbows. She only takes such precautions to cover her tattoos- the same tattoos I and every Preyvain woman bear- when we have guests.

And yet as I glance back at Tyson, my theory has been all but confirmed.

I’ve been sold off.

“I didn’t know we were expecting guests tonight. I would have dressed properly,” I say.

It’s a dig at my mother as much as it is true. It isn’t exactly polite to welcome a Don into your home wearing pants mucked in mud. Plus my hair is still slick with sweat, and I can practically taste the lingering smell of the market on my clothes.

My mother’s smile is wicked. Practiced. She knew I went on a run. She also knew I wouldn’t have come home if I knew what was waiting for me.

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“You look good enough to eat, Charlotte,” the General smiles, his sweeping assessment leaving me feeling sick to my stomach. Appraising me like I’m nothing more than cattle at market. There’s no hiding my frown.

“Well, let the man come inside. There’s ale in the parlor. We wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Tyson hobbles forward on his cane, legs shaking with effort, and he follows as my mother clicks across the marble floors. My feet carry me after them, but I count each step. Closer and closer to the gallows.

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