Chapter OneSt. James Keep, Bavia, 1895
"What the deuce
is she doing up there?" Rafael St. James, prince of Bavia, demanded, bending as far out his chamber window as he could without plunging headfirst into the empty moat.
A light and drizzling rain was falling, that gloomy evening in late May, but he could see all too clearly. Annie Trevarren, a lithe, barefooted figure clad in a pair of kidskin breeches and a flowing shirt that might have been pinched from his own wardrobe, was embracing the face of a gargoyle on the crumbling parapet of the south tower.
Rafael felt an inward wrench at the sight of her,...