But what if he wasn’t lying? The fact that the Ravyn witch hadn’t spotted him while being immediately in front of him had to be proof enough.

  Alaric shook out his head. He couldn’t dwell on this any longer right now. He had a wife to save.

  Still unsure if he was visible or not, Alaric continued his sneak through the clumps of tents, picking his way more carefully now. Before he knew it, Alaric was faced with the dome—the only thing separating him from Kerensa.

  This was where things got tricky. The shield was clearly magical, but he had no idea of the restrictions corresponding to the barrier. It was obviously meant to keep Kerensa in, so would it keep him out? And if he did manage to get in, would they both be stuck inside?

  All Alaric knew at the moment was that he needed to get inside that gold shield. He walked up to it—staying close to the darkness of the shadows—and tentatively reached out a hand to touch it. He expected the dome to stop his hand, perhaps trigger a breach, some kind of alarm. Instead, his hand fell right through the shield, followed by his body as his unexpected momentum pulled him forward. Alaric caught himself before he landed face first in the snow, stumbling to regain his balance. He looked back at the swirling gold dome, once again perplexed. But his mind was truly elsewhere as he turned back to the tent flaps in front of him. He dashed inside before someone could spot him and prayed that no witch stayed inside this tent with Kerensa.

  His breathing became laboured as his heart accelerated in anticipation. The world froze when he saw her laid out on her side along the bed, her back to him. He swallowed hard against the emotion rising up his throat.

  Kerensa groaned as she rolled over and barked, “What now?” Her movements abruptly stopped when her eyes, those beautiful copper eyes, landed on Alaric.

  Gods, he’d missed her eyes, looking at them. He’d missed her. “Kerensa,” he breathed, her name hovering in the air for a long second. Then she leapt up and threw her arms around him.

  Alaric responded instantly, his arms wrapping around Kerensa, holding her tight to him. He buried his face in her short hair, her scent of honey and leather assaulting him. He welcomed it, welcomed all the sensations of having her in his arms again. They stayed like that for what seemed like a very long time, Kerensa’s arms twined around his neck while she stood on her tiptoes because of his height, and Alaric’s arms enveloping her waist.

  He pulled back a fraction and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and savouring this moment. When he opened them, Kerensa was staring at him in wonder, tears running down her cheeks. Alaric lifted his hands to her face to wipe them away.

  “Ric,” she whimpered, “is it really you?”

  “Of course,” he whispered in return, his own tears leaking from his eyes.

  “You came for me,” Kerensa murmured in disbelief.

  “I will always come for you, Kerensa.”

  “But…how?”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” he promised, “but right now, we have to get out of here.”

  Her eyes widened. “We can’t. The shield… I don’t understand. How did you get through?”

  Alaric hesitated. “I—I don’t know. I sort of just…fell through it, I suppose.” It sounded quite stupid said aloud.

  Kerensa pulled away but held his hand firmly in hers, as if she were afraid that if she let go, he would dissolve into thin air. She tugged him over to the tent flap and pushed it open. “The Ravyns said only witches could pass through,” she explained, indicating the gold dome with a pointed look.

  “There’s no way to disable it?”

  “I’ve tried, but my…magic just bounces off of the cursed thing.” A stream of flame shot from her palm towards the shield. The fire rebounded when it hit the barrier, racing back towards them. Kerensa smothered it with a clench of her fist before it could singe the hair right off her head.

  He stared at her in wonder. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do magic?”

  “I…” She glanced down. “I didn’t know what you would do if you knew.”

  His lips pressed into a thin line. “What—”

  “We can talk about this later, Alaric,” she said, folding her arms over her torso.

  “Right.” He looked back towards the matter at hand, contemplating quietly, “So how do we get you out then?” He crept to the edge of the shield, studying every inch with a careful eye.

  “Ric?” she whispered from behind him. He spun around and beheld a flustered Kerensa, glancing this way and that. “Ric, where are you?”

  He had to contain his chuckle of uncertainty. “What do you mean? I’m right in front of you,” he replied lightly.

  She jumped at the sound of his voice. “But you’re—I mean—you’re gone!”

  His face fell. “What?”

  “You vanished! Right in front of me, for the sake of the gods. You can’t tell me you didn’t do that on purpose.”

  “No, I—I didn’t.” Alaric looked down at his perfectly visible palms, torso, and legs. He glanced back up at Kerensa, wide eyes and grim face. He hated that she looked at him like she didn’t see him.

  Then her eyes connected with his, and her entire body sagged in relief. “Don’t ever do that again, you oaf,” she scolded, shaking her head.

  He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

  Kerensa swaggered up beside him, crossing her arms as they faced the gold dome. The one thing that separated them from escape.

  “What do we do now? Any genius ideas in that big head of yours, Prince?” She looked up at him, and he glimpsed that burning fire that he now knew not only lived in her gaze, but in her palms, too.

  Alaric lifted one hand to the shield and slipped his other into Kerensa’s. He returned her fiery stare and asked, “Do you trust me?”

  “With my life,” Kerensa responded without hesitation.

  Something in his heart sighed at her answer, but he had no time to linger on it as he pushed past the shield, pulling Kerensa along with him.

  She materialized on the other side with him.

  He dragged her into a crouch to avoid drawing the attention of the covens nearby. Alaric put a finger to his lips and began leading her back the way he’d come. Kerensa’s slight body and pickpocketing skills served her well now, as he barely heard or saw her. If not for the gentle hand he held he wasn’t sure he would ever be aware she was still with him.

  They managed past groups of witches without incident and were so close to the invisible wall when a high, shrill ringing surged through the witch camp. All around them, Ravyns leapt into action, grabbing for weapons and shouting orders. Kerensa and Alaric exchanged a panicked glance before he pressed a knife into her palm and unsheathed Wynter. Coven encampments barred them in on all sides, but they had a clear path to the barrier. He could buy her enough time to run—

  Alaric’s thoughts were disrupted by an inhumanly beautiful witch who stalked towards him and Kerensa. Her vibrant brown hair was tied at her neck, and she drew a slender blade from the sheath down her back. Alaric stood and raised his sword, ready to meet her challenge.

  “Kerensa, go,” he told her, indicating with a nod of his head the way to the wall.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Kerensa exasperated as she rose beside him.

  He shook his head and growled, “Go, now.”

  “No! You’ll die, Ric!”

  The witch drew closer with every wasted second.

  Alaric threw a desperate look to Kerensa. His wife. “Please. I need you to get out of here. I’ll be right behind you. Please,” he begged her urgently, would have gone to his knees if it meant she’d listen to him.

  “In three hells. We get out of this,” she said, holding his gaze. “Together.” Kerensa sunk into a fighting stance, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  Alaric assessed her. Why do I even bother? He turned his focus back to the Ravyn who now stood only a few steps away.

  “You have a lot of nerve creeping around the camp of your enemies, Corruna Tsurich. Even more for coming to rescue your little Aevym,” the witch crooned, emerald eyes blazing. “You really thought you would succeed in your little mission? We could smell you coming from a mile away, Tsurich.”

  Alaric eyed the scores of witches forming an impenetrable circle around him and Kerensa.

  The howls of a pack of wolves rose in the night at that moment, the series of bays and yelps creating a nearly coherent song of sorts. The Ravyn’s head snapped toward the sound, offering a moment of vulnerability. Alaric took that opportunity and lunged.

  The witch leaped back with a hiss, glaring at him. Kerensa turned and pressed her back to his, facing the witches on the other side while brandishing her dagger.

  The moon crested to illuminate the two of them in his soft glow, on display for all to observe. A ripple went through the Ravyns, and Alaric realized every single pair of eyes had landed on him.

  The Ravyn who faced him held her sword in a white-knuckled grip. Her green eyes alighted with recognition. “Darien,” she gasped, taking a step back, closer to her peers.

  The witches cried out in collective outrage, closing in rapidly.

  Alaric looked back at Kerensa, her jaw set, and expression determined. She nodded to him, her eyes conveying what she didn’t have time to say. I’m ready. Are you?

  While his heart weighed heavy, he was filled with only certainty. He would find her in the next life, even if it took tearing apart all three Hells to do so.

  He bobbed his head. I’m ready. He reached behind him to grip her hand, squeezing hard. She returned the pressure.

  They turned and faced the oncoming witches, ready to die. Together.

  Part Six

  † ~ †

  Never Say Goodbye

  Chapter Forty

  No. Everything inside of him screamed the word. No. No. No.

  He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to let her die. She’d been through too much for him to give up on her now. Kerensa had to live.

  That was the only thought in Alaric’s mind, his only concern, as the Ravyns lifted their weapons of steel and prepared to strike him and Kerensa down.

  Blinding light erupted, streaming from Alaric and out into the dark night beyond.

  And all.

  Fell.

  Silent.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  Her ears were ringing.

  The blast of light had thrown Wren back, away from Ric as she lost her grip on his hand. She propped herself up on her elbows, blinking to clear her blurry vision.

  A circle of felled witches, and Alaric was the only one left standing. The little bit of his exposed skin she could see was aglow, and she watched as the sparkle faded.

  He’d used magic again. Wren didn’t know if he’d meant to or not this time.

  Her heart thundered in her chest as Ric turned to her, afraid of what she might see there.

  His sea green eyes held only concern and desperate emotion. He looked quite distraught, but he ran to her all the same.

  Wren grabbed his arm as he helped her to her feet, regaining her balance as she clung to him. Looking at what he’d done to the Ravyns surrounding them, she opened her mouth to ask, “Are they—” She swallowed. “Are they dead?”

  Ric shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He pointed to where the witches were groaning as they tried to rise. “Now is our chance. Let’s go, Kerensa.”

  She spared one last glance to the Ravyn witches before she nodded and let Ric lead her away. They ran for the edge of the witch camp and dissipated through the invisible barrier. They were greeted on the other side by a pack of six huge wolves. “Alaric!” she cried, appalled as he sheathed his sword. “We escape a camp full of witches just to be eaten by wolves?”

  Ric chuckled as he knelt and patted one of the wild dogs on the head. “They’re friends. You’re alright.”

  She stared at him. “You really are out of your mind, then.”

  “I like to think I still have some common sense left,” he drawled with a wink.

  Wren hated to admit it, but she had missed that insufferable grin of his.

  “I have a horse and supplies waiting up ahead. There should be enough that we’ll only have to stop in one town to restock to make it to the capital. Then we’ll be home,” he confirmed, flashing her a winning smile.

  She couldn’t help but smile back, even though what he’d said wasn’t true. For her, at least. Don’t ruin this, Wren.

  It was still hard to believe that Alaric was really here, that he’d come to save her. His dark blond hair shone in the early light Rava trickled through the canopy of Marawood, his face sculpted to perfection, his features enhanced by the shadows and light warring across his weather-beaten face. He showed her the snowy path to his dappled stallion, everything they would need to travel back to Evaleer strapped to his back. Sacks of food, two sleeping rolls, a canister for water, and bags full of the gods knew what dangling at the horse’s hips.

  The wolves shadowed their steps, whimpering and yipping excitedly. Ric proffered his hand to her, and she accepted it, allowing him to help hoist her into the saddle. He lifted himself up in front of her. “Hold on,” he suggested, grinning like an idiot.

  She glared at him as she wound her arms around his waist. Buzzard.

  His blue-green eyes flashed, and he spurred the horse into a steady gait. Wren jolted forward, pressed flush against Alaric’s back. Her cheeks heated; suddenly glad he was concentrating on directing the stallion. Her cheek rested on his spine, and she could hear his rapid heartbeat banging on his ribs. She wasn’t sure how long she listened to it before she drifted into unconsciousness.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  Ambria sat before her parents in the sitting room of their townhouse. Her little brothers had been sent to bed, the only shield she’d had tonight from her father’s rage. She faced him now with chin raised and steel in her eyes.

  “What were you thinking, Ambria?” Quincy demanded, hands digging into the armrests of his plush chair.

  “I was thinking of my House,” she responded coolly, “and what I can provide for it, my family, and the pressure I could lift.”

  He hissed, “What you did was humiliate High House Ellymae and humiliate me.” Her father’s nostrils flared, and Lilivere—standing on the left side of his chair—placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. Bri watched her father relax at her mother’s touch and had to look away.

  That love… It reminded her too much of Mateo.

  None of it was fair.

  “That was not what I intended, Father.” She talked to her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap.

  Silence fell, thick and heavy like a blanket, muffling her senses. Bri knew without looking that her parents were staring with disappointment in their eyes.

  “You,” her father spat, “are a disgrace to the family name.” She felt his gaze pierce through her.

  Ambria flinched at his words.

  “I will not hesitate to send you back to Grivelan for a period of time, Ambria. Perhaps you will better learn how to control yourself there.” Quincy seethed the words through his teeth. Bri hadn’t seen him this angry since Kai ran off on his voyage.

  A vicious snarl she didn’t know she was capable of tore out of her. She stood swiftly and growled, “Do what you will, but I do not regret my decisions. I meant every word I said in that council room, and I will not apologize for telling the truth, even if you do not wish to hear it. I will fight for my House and my rights as your child and I will push, and push, and push until I finally break through your narrow and selfish vision and prove to everyone that I am competent of everything men are. I may be grieving, I may be mourning, but the loss of my husband does not mean I am worthless. I am not defined by anyone but myself. I will fight every day to be worthy of High House Ellymae and my family name, I will fight until the day I take my last breath in this life.” Ambria heaved a breath, blood boiling with rage. “It is your choice whether you support me or not, but I will make no compromises nor exceptions. You need me, my House needs me, and I will provide, but I will do it for myself.” She bit out her last word, gritting her teeth. Her parents watched her, stunned, as she pivoted, snatched her coat from the front door, and stormed out of their home.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jostled back into consciousness, Wren woke to bleary sunlight, clinging to a solid body. For a moment she tensed, fear overtaking her.

  But no, she realized. It was not Cormac she rode with, nor with a witch. It was Alaric’s sturdy presence that she clung to, a breath of relief leaving her.

  “Are you okay back there?” Ric asked, twisting to glance at her.

  Wren nodded, and Ric frowned. She glared at him. “I’m fine, Prince, I swear.”

  He shrugged, though she still saw the skepticism in his stare. “Alright.” He turned back in the saddle, the stallion trotting along in the snow.

  They rode in silence for a long while, the tension between them stretching to the point of snapping.

  Wren hated it. “Distract me,” she requested. “Please.”

  Alaric eyed her and said, “When did you know?”

  She glanced at him, confused. “Know what?”

  “About your magic.”

  She sucked in a breath, looking away. “The…the first time I wondered was when you sent me that note with directions to burn it. The paper turned to ash in my hand.” Her eyelids fluttered shut. Be careful. “In the past, I had less than good experiences with both fire and magic. But trapped in the middle of Marawood surrounded by witches…” Wren chanced a peek of his face. “I don’t want to be afraid of what I can do anymore.”