Ruling Destiny


 Also by Alyson Noël
 
 
 Stealing Infinity series
 Stealing Infinity
 Ruling Destiny
 The Beautiful Idols series
 Unrivaled
 Blacklist
 Infamous
 The Immortals series
 Evermore
 Blue Moon
 Shadowland
 Dark Flame
 Night Star
 Everlasting
 The Soul Seekers series
 Fated
 Echo
 Mystic
 Horizon
 The Riley Bloom series
 Radiance
 Shimmer
 Dreamland
 Whisper
 Standalone Novels
 Keeping Secrets
 Forever Summer
 Cruel Summer
 Saving Zoë
 Kiss & Blog
 Laguna Cove
 Art Geeks and Prom Queens
 Faking 19
 Fly Me to the Moon
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. 
 Copyright © 2023 by Alyson Noël, LLC. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
 Entangled Publishing, LLC
 644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave., STE 181
 Shrewsbury, PA 17361
 [email protected]
 Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
 Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
 Edited by Stacy Abrams
 Cover design by Bree Archer
 Cover images by Alexroz/Depositphotos, 
 Abzee/Gettyimages, Wacomka/Shutterstock, 
 Remuhin/Shutterstock, EduardHarkonen/Gettyimages,
 and Amado Designs/Shutterstock
 Interior design by Toni Kerr
 ISBN: 9-781-64937-192-8
 Ebook ISBN: 9-781-64937-233-8
 Manufactured in the United States of America
 First Edition June 2023
 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
 
 
 
 For Saint, always.
 
 
 At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage.
 https://entangledpublishing.com/books/ruling-destiny
 
 
 Oh, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd!She was a vixen when she went to school.And though she be but little, she is fierce.—William ShakespeareA Midsummer Night’s Dream
 
 
 Fact:
 All of the artwork and ancient artifacts mentioned in this novel are real.
 
 
 Prologue
 Braxton 
 Basilique Royale De Saint-Denis, France
 1741
 I stand beside the dead man and raise my torch high, my gaze cutting from those blank, lifeless eyes to the bloodied gash in his chest where the dagger plunged deep into his heart and claimed his last breath. 
 I never meant for it to go this far. I never—
 Desperate to block out the sight, I squeeze my eyes shut, only to find the gruesome image burned into my brain—a bleak and wretched still life destined to haunt me for the rest of my days. 
 “Merde.” I grimace, then turn to see Killian coming to stand beside me, a cigarette tucked between his lips.
 “Speak English,” he says, his voice booming through the ancient space. “You can cut the act now. It’s just us.” 
 He grabs hold of my wrist and, using the flaming torch like a match, lights the tip and takes a deep drag that launches him straight into a coughing fit. 
 “Nothing like a good gasper.” He chokes. “My pop gave me my first taste back when I was nine.” Killian looks at me sideways and laughs. “Didn’t realize how much I missed it. The smoke, that is. Not my pop.” To illustrate the point, he blows a series of smoke rings that hover briefly over the corpse. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m not better suited for this century. You know, before all the rules and regulations and blasted surgeon general warnings.” 
 I watch uneasily as he crouches beside the dead man and, with a tap of his finger, slides the eyelids all the way closed. 
 “Fuckin’ giving me the creeps, the way he’s half-lidded staring at me.”
 “Do you think it’s true?” I gaze down at my boots. The toes are splattered with vomit and blood. And though my first instinct is to wipe it all off, I know that I won’t. 
 Mainly because I can’t allow myself to forget that, because of my actions, a young girl just lost her father and she’ll never know why. I shake my head, shake away the thought, and return to the question. “About the Sun being a fake—what do you make of that?”
 Killian flicks a length of ash onto the dead man’s cheek. In that moment, I’ve never hated him more. Disrespectful, despicable piece of—
 “Do you really think Arthur would send us out for a dupe?” He lets out a derisive snort.
 My gaze finds the body again. No. Not a body; a person. A man who had a wife, a daughter. A man who, thanks to me—was put to a violent, premature end. 
 And yet, he’s not just any man, but a Timekeeper. One who, even when he sensed what was coming, remained completely unshaken, accepting a fate that was not his to change.
 Or at least until he heard the threat leveled against his girl. Because in that instant, he switched from loyal, oath-keeping Timekeeper to desperate father willing to do anything to save his daughter. 
 “Hey, Posh Spice—”
 I look to Killian and frown. His constant digs at my upper-crust accent never fail to get under my skin. 
 He pushes himself off the ground until he’s towering a good three inches above me. At fourteen, he’s a bit older than me, but he’s also tall for his age. Built, too. “In case you haven’t noticed—” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves an engraved silver flask. “We did the damn thing. So take a load off—have a drink. Still enough time to stash the body and be on our way.”
 I don’t want the drink, but knowing it’s easier to go along, I take the flask and fake a swig. But Killian’s onto me, and before I can stop him, he tips the bottom with a whack of his hand, causing a jolt of whiskey to slip down my throat, leaving a fiery trail in