PROLOGUE

Wendell Pierce, Allana’s father, sat at the quaint kitchen table in the nook of their cottage. He slowly sipped on a hot cup of coffee while Allana pursued the wanted section of the local paper of a nearby town. It was her last break in college, and she wanted to get a head start on getting a job before she graduated. The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of her days in a boorish town likeFleuve Ville.

Not that she regretted growing up in the town. It was only a dead-end for her. A means to an end. The only thing this town had to offer her was the home she grew up in and her papa. That was all, and she wanted so much more for herself. To see the world and live life on her terms. The consequences be damned.

Besides, all she had ever known from the people of this river town was hatred for being different. People even cast a side-eye at her father for tolerating her going to college in the first place. But Allana was as smart as she was beautiful. She might not have been stick-figure thin like most of the girls in town, and that was just fine by her. It was the words the people used that turned her off from giving the town another second of her time. She heard it all growing up. The nasty comments about her weight and never being able to get a man.

“Would it be so bad to work a couple of years here before setting off to another town?” Wendell asked his daughter as he focused on the name of the paper. The Sentinel was in large bold font heading the top of the paper. It laid on the table between the two of them, cast aside by Allana in favor of the classifieds.

Allana shrugged. “I would much rather not work here, Papa. Besides, I’ll come to visit you often.”

“What about that man you were seeing? What was his name?” Wendell stared out of the window as though the answer waited for him right outside the pane of glass.

“Collin?” Allana offered. “He’s long gone and for good reason.”

She shifted uncomfortably, cleared her throat, and then refocused on the paper in front of her. The topic of the man she used to date was a sore subject and she would rather not spend another moment thinking about him. If she ever saw him again, it would be too soon.

“You remember what I told you a few years ago?” he asked. “About marriage.”

When Allana was twenty-five years old and just heading off to college—it had taken her years to get accepted, thanks to the masochistic society they live in—her father had sat her down and suggested that she might be safer in the world with a man by her side. The town might be used to her confident ways, but other towns might not be so accepting or accommodating without her being married. He hated telling her such things, knowing his daughter preferred to carve her own way through the world, but he knew it was “just the way of things.”

She had told him she would change “the way of things,” and so far, she was doing exactly that. Making her mark on the world and leaving behind a legacy for the Pierce name. Already she had proven herself to be quite the scholar and landed herself in the good graces of a couple Professors. She, despite her gender, was top of her class.

Allana shifted her gaze upward to meet her father’s eyes. “Yeah. I remember.”

There was hesitation in her voice. She knew her father wouldn’t press the issue, but perhaps there was a good reason for him bringing it up again after so long.

He smiled at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. His brown eyes sparkling in the soft morning light. “I was proud of you then. I’m proud of you now. I have been, and will always be, proud of you.”

Allana smiled. “Thank you, Papa.”

She sighed and slammed the paper down on the table. “I’m done with this for now.”

“No luck?” he asked.

She shook her head. “But I’m not giving up.”

“The right job will come along. You’ll see,” Wendell said. “It will happen when you least expect it.”

Allana settled her gaze on her father. She stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I know, Papa. But it’s not like it’s simply going to fall into my lap.”

Wendell let out a deep chuckle. “With you, anything is possible.”

* * *

The deathof Jacinda and Phillip Heller was sudden and heartbreaking. Even more so for King who had been distant ever since he came back from the war, down an arm. Gunnar had done his best to keep his sadness at bay for the sake of his job. He was the cook and had been for years. It was his job to feed all the people who showed up for the wake following the funeral. Everyone depended on him, and he hated the idea of letting anyone down.

While he worked in the kitchen, cleaning up from the feast he had made for all those who came to pay their respects, he caught sight of King rushing past the doorway to the kitchen, likely on his way into the bowels of the castle turned hotel. Gunnar ran after him knowing if he didn’t catch him now, King would disappear for another few weeks, if not longer. Gunnar never could figure out where the man slept, much less why he would choose such a desolate place to live, and so long as King was standoffish, that would remain so.

“King,” Gunnar shouted.

He didn’t respond. If anything, King picked up the pace to try and get out of the confrontation. Though he never seemed to hate Gunnar, he did give the impression he merely tolerated him. Gunnar wasn’t going to give up so easily. He picked up his pace as well, reaching the corner King had turned at seconds before.

“I have to talk to you,” Gunnar said.

King growled as he halted. He didn’t turn around to face the cook, instead kept his back toward the man. “What?”

Gunnar held up his hands as he approached, despite King not seeing his gesture. “I only wanted to check in on you. You’ve been more broody than usual.”