Desperation was not a good look, and Averi knew that more than anyone. He’d seen it on the faces he once loved, fear, anger, sadness.

In Valstrath people have gone crazy with poverty, and as a noble he did nothing but watch in distaste. Poor things, he thought.

But as soon as he was counted suspect for ruining the statue of Aethra he was thrown out to become like the ones he pitied.

So he found himself sprinting through the hallways of the countess building, his breath quick and shallow. He held a luxurious vase in his arms, one that costed millions.

He knew it was a stupid idea, but if he sold it he could have the money to escape his dreadful life. A flash of relief went through him once he stepped outside, but then he found himself pinned to the ground, the vase taken from his grasp.