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because they didn’t make him feel as though he may as well be dead already.
    He had dreams and wishes, but they were more complex and much darker than most. Nothing was about mere happiness for Altor—he was beyond hoping for that. He didn’t know himself. And he didn’t have time, like everyone else, to learn.
    There was something inside him that was unendingly painful. A darkness that he tried desperately to overcome, a coldness that sometimes frightened him.
    He supposed he loved his mother. It didn’t seem to be enough in the face of what he’d become, what had been done to him.
    The rage inside him was like an animal, trying every moment to break free. He was utterly consumed by it. He wasn’t meant to be living this twisted, broken life. He was too strong and too clever. He could have been so much better if only he’d not been trapped like this.
    He knew it could be seen in his eyes—the hollowness and the fury. And it frightened nearly everyone he looked at, turning him into an outsider.

Chapter 2
    Luca disentangled himself from the throng of women and left the tavern. There were people everywhere; it was the biggest night of the year.
    Luca didn’t think it was right to celebrate like this, not for the deaths of thousands of people. Two years to the day since the Battle of Victory. But no war could be victorious, could it? It was a stupid, arrogant name and it made him angry. Like most things these days.
    And yet here he was, walking the streets of Amalia like he had this time last year. Last year he’d played his guitar for the king and queen—this year he declined. He couldn’t bring himself to make music anymore.
    Not after what it had done to Ria. She had been in a coma for almost six months, but the last he’d heard she had woken and returned to her family’s vineyard. He’d never gone to visit. He didn’t know why. He knew only that he’d changed, and that he wouldn’t be good enough for her if he tried to find her again.
    He wanted to write to her, but couldn’t think of what to say, how to redress.
    ‘Luca!’ He turned and recognised the distinctive form of Anna, several feet behind him, dressed in her uniform and a peacock mask to mark the occasion.
    ‘What are you doing wandering around on your own tonight?’ she asked, lifting her mask.
    ‘You’re on your own,’ he pointed out.
    ‘I’m headed off on patrol.’
    ‘No rest for the wicked, I see.’
    Anna smiled.
    ‘Are you sure you’re up for that?’ Luca asked seriously.
    ‘Of course I am. Want to come with me?’
    ‘I wouldn’t dream of intruding,’ he replied, trying to make his voice sound light. ‘Besides, you know I’m not welcome with him.’ Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Luca interrupted. ‘I’m fine, really. I might sing for a bit.’ A lie, but Anna looked relieved.
    ‘Okay. Make sure you do. And don’t stay by yourself for too long.’ Maybe she sensed that something was wrong. Maybe she knew what Luca was going to do. Maybe not, for she was gone in an instant, off to her unyielding duty. He wondered, not for the first time, if Anna was throwing herself so unrelentingly into her job to distract herself. But then—he could hardly talk. He thought of his home and his family every single day. He tried to imagine what they would think of him if they could see him now; how it would be if they ever found a way home. But he knew he would never leave this world without Jane, and he knew, too, that he’d never fit back in to his old life.
    Luca reached up to steady his fox mask, wishing it concealed more of his face. He kept walking. An observer would have to have been watching him very closely to notice that what appeared to be aimless wanderings were in fact taking him in a very clear direction. He was careful not to draw attention to himself. He doubled back a few times and even attempted a drunken stumble to blend in with the celebrations.
    It was early morning by the time he reached the large house.