Two brothers bound by more than blood fight to change a brutal destiny in this novel in the #1 New York Times bestselling Black Dagger Brotherhood series.   Sold by his parents to the Queen of the s’Hisbe as a child, Trez escaped the Territory and has been a pimp and an enforcer for years. On the run from a destiny of sexual servitude, he’s never been able to rely on anyone...except for his brother, iAm.   iAm’s sole goal has always been to keep his brother from self-destructing—and he knows he’s failed. It’s not until the Chosen Selena enters Trez’s life that the male begins to turn things around...but by then, it’s too late. The pledge to mate the Queen’s daughter comes due, and there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no negotiating.   Now Trez must decide whether to endanger himself and others—or abandon the female he loves. When tragedy strikes and changes everything, iAm, in the name of brotherly love, is faced with making the ultimate sacrifice... Praise for the Novels of the Black Dagger Brotherhood   “Delicious, erotic, and thrilling.”— New York Times bestselling author Nicole Jordan   “Dark fantasy lovers, you just got served.”— New York Times bestselling author Lynn Viehl   “To die for. I love this series!”— New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann “J. R. Ward’s urban fantasy romance series is so popular I don’t think there’s a reader today who hasn’t at least heard of the Black Dagger Brotherhood.”— USA Today   “Hold on tight for an intriguing, adrenaline-pumping ride.”— Booklist J. R. Ward  is the author of more than thirty novels, including those in her #1  New York Times  bestselling Black Dagger Brotherhood series. She is also the author of the Black Dagger Legacy series and the Bourbon Kings series. There are more than fifteen million copies of her novels in print worldwide, and they have been published in twenty-six different countries around the world. She lives in the South with her family. PROLOGUE TERRITORY OF THE S’HISBE, GRAND PALACE The footprints he left on the white marble were red. Red as a Burmese ruby. Red as the core of a fire. Red as the anger in his marrow. The blood was TrezLath’s own, but he felt no pain. The murder weapon he’d just used, a sterling silver paring knife about as long as his hand and as narrow as his forefinger, was still in his palm. It was dripping, but that was not the source of the stain he was leaving behind. He had been injured in the fight. His hip. His thigh. Maybe his shoulder, he wasn’t sure. The corridor was a mile long and sky-high, and he did not know what awaited him at its termination. A door, he prayed. There had to be a door of some kind—this was the way out of the palace, so there had to be . . . an exit. And when he came unto it? He had no idea how he was going to break out. But he’d also had no clue how to kill another living male, and he’d done that minutes ago. Further, he had no plan for what was on the far side of the palace enclosure or how he was going to get over the Territory’s retaining walls. No clue where to go, what to do. All he knew was that he couldn’t be in that cell anymore. It was luxurious enough, with silken sheets on a feather bed, and a bath that had its own pool, and a private chef to feed him. He had books written by the Shadow Masters at his disposal, and a full team of care specialists, from healers, to bathers, to exercise commandants. As for his clothes? His now-torn vestments were studded with gems from the treasury, diamonds and emeralds and sapphires cascading down his robes. And yet his body was regarded as far more valuable than the largesse it bore. Trez was the sacred fatted calf, the prized breeding stallion, the male whose birth chart had proclaimed he was to sire the next generation of queens. He had not yet been called into sexual service. That would come in time, when the Princess he was to mate had reached her astrological maturity. Trez looked over his shoulder. No one was coming after him, but that would change as soon as the crumpled body of that guard he’d overpowered was found—and that wasn’t going to be long. There was always someone watching. If only he could— Up in front of him, a door that was flush with the wall slid back, and a massive figure draped in black stepped directly into his path. s’Ex, the Queen’s executioner, had his chain-mail hooding in place, his features covered by the metal weave. But the sight of his face was unnecessary. His voice, deep and evil, was pure menace. “You killed one of my males.” Trez shuffled to a halt, his dragging robes stilling on the floor. Glancing down at the knife in his hand, he knew that the flimsy “weapon” was going to get him nowhere against the Shadow he now faced. The silver blade had been designed to cut pears and apples, not even tenderloin meats. And the executioner was not like that guard. “You are trying to leave.” s’Ex didn’t take a step forward, but seemed closer anyway. “Which is not only unacceptable f