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Prologue

July, 1815

War was glorious, Mason thought as he lay in the dank basee of death They didn’t tell soldiers that, of course That they were about to die No, they told them that they were nearly better, would recover any day now

He was too sick to tell them they needn’t lie He was prepared for death He’d welcome it, in fact Hell, he’d pushed so hard on the front because—and this wasn’t so a man ever said aloud—he’d wanted to die

If he were honest, he should never have lived Hadn’t his father told him that over and over on the rare occasions in which he bothered to visit his bastard son? “You shouldn’t have survived Should have died with your mother”

Mason shook his head He’d done his absolute best to make his father’s wish come true

“There now,” a soft feminine voice crooned close to his ear “No need to fret, you’ll be all right”

“I won’t,” he answered, raising a heavy hand and swiping at his eyes When he dropped his hand, he blinked open his scratchy eyelids to look at the woman who had such a sweet voice

No, not a woirl A child

The girl tilted her head to the side and sunshine froht He hadn’t thought his expanded with the breath, drawing a deep gush of air—leading him to wonder if he’d died already and this was, in fact, heaven

The child had a halo of blonde hair, twisted back fro about her cheeks, highlighting her large blue eyes and the soft pink tint that flushed her skin She looked just like the cherubic angels he’d seen in paintings in his father’s house, the one time he’d been allowed to visit

“You’re beautiful,” hebreath He tried to raise his hand again and touch her face, but his arm wouldn’t work

“Thank you” She sent and amused “But you’re a bit old for me”

He et the sound out He hadn’t meant it like that She was clearly only a child, but she had the sort of beauty that was so rare in his world Maybe it wasn’t beauty at all, but innocence Whatever it was, she seeh she truly was of another world “How old are you?”