These Hearts We Shatter

CONTENTS Content Warnings Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Epilogue Pronunciation Guide Acknowledgments About the Author THESE HEARTS WE SHATTER Reign of Soulless Book 2 Copyright © Shannon R. Lir 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ISBN (hardcover): 979-8-9863802-3-0 ISBN (paperback): 979-8-9863802-4-7 eISBN: 979-8-9863802-1-6 shannonrlir.com GOLD KNOT PRESS LLC Copyright © 2023 by Shannon R. Lir First Edition June 2023 Cover artwork by K.D. Ritchie | Story Wrappers Print wrap design by Shannon R. Lir Map by AEKCreates Character Art by Anna Henri CONTENT WARNINGS Content warnings may contain mild spoilers. Please contact Shannon R. Lir through her website if you would like more information before reading. This book contains strong language and mature content including but not limited to graphic sexual content, depictions and themes of mental illness, mentions of pregnancy and menstruation, addiction, violence, hunting, blood play, assault, human trafficking, and death. To you. May you feel the full spectrum of colors—but especially true pink. PROLOGUE We all have that one person who affects us like a drug. The second I met mine, I knew. The way my body subconsciously reacted when he was near. The way my breath quickened and hitched when we touched. The craving was so insatiable, so unbearable and impossible to resist, despite knowing that flames always—always—die out. Though I hadn’t had a taste in moons, the craving had yet to work its way out of my system. Instead, he’d ignited me with a rage and desire so potent, they vied with one another constantly, trying to prove which was dominant. If it were possible, my feelings deepened. But my magic turned static. There were no more shifts in color. No presentations of fear. Few bouts of sadness. There’d been sorrow at first, of course, but the red fury refused to retreat or reset and always engulfed the blue. Same with the fear. Nothing else remained, save for that sharp resentment that’d spread like wildfire because my gods-damned drug imitated the hottest of flames, consuming my entire body and mind—even my soul—when in reality, we’d always been ice. Fragile. Ready to shatter. An illusion that needed shattering. He was deadly nightshade. Beautiful to the eye; fatal to the heart. Before, I’d tried to convince myself that feeling something was better than nothing. But when it came to Nessin Drumghoul, I wanted numbness. That was the trouble with riding the high: there was always a comedown, and you never really knew how bad it was going to be. * * * My legs trembled like twigs in the wind as Ailerby and I waited for the black ship approaching—so slow—in the distance. The bow pierced the opaque fog like a Colossi reaching through it to clear the pall, reminding me just how eager I was to board that ship and depart. To get away from the Daemon King. For good. I was trying not to drown in my fury, tinged the crimson of freshly spilled blood behind my eyes, but Nessin Drumghoul might as well have gutted me from navel to sternum before piercing the heart that’d been his only bells before. It might have been less painful, less conflicting than this. Whatever this was exactly. Ma had said once that some lessons—ones of the heart especially—were often learned the hard way. She’d also said you often knew in your bones when you were ready to walk away from something. So why in Dúm’s name my bones felt like they’d locked up, refusing to move forward when I had no reason, was beyond comprehension. A private dock extended into the Wraithsea behind the citadel, built of pristine marble slabs and cloisters enclosing the edges. The width of the dock and the soundness of its structure did nothing to make me feel safe from the hundreds of translucent wraiths below. They reached up from the shimmering black water on either side with bony hands as I peeked over the edge, my dry throat protesting the swallow I forced down. Their beady eyes bore into my soul, and it was almost like they knew I still had one. Part of it, at least. The new king insisted I’d be safe from them, but information was only as trustworthy as its source. Hopefully that hadn’t been a lie too because in just a few bells’ time, the Iarsmaí would surround me on the isle where we’d honeymooned—now my place of exile. Still, I wondered if he was watching me from the patio next to the hedge maze out back. I wondered if he had any remorse for the things he’d said, for the things he planned to do. I imagined him running after me, begging for forgiveness, saying he hadn’t been serious. Any words to suppress this rage. But wishes and fantasies were useless. As the Cradled Moons crested the jagged coastline in the distance, I refused to look behind me at the citadel—the