How can this feel so right but so wrong all at once? His thoughts raced, wondering what in three hells was going through Kerensa’s head. Was she happy to be going back with him? Did she regret her decision? If she didn’t now, would she some day? No. I have to show her that this is right. That we’re right. “Talk to me,” he begged her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  He felt her chest rise and fall with a breath. “I told myself I wouldn’t miss them,” she said softly.

  His brow furrowed, but he looked straight ahead. “Miss who? Your family?”

  “My parents, yes.”

  “The ones you left on bad terms.”

  He thought she must have nodded her head, wisps of her hair tickling the back of his neck. “Everything was fine until…until…” Kerensa gasped on the word.

  “Until they told you they were sending you across the sea to marry…me,” he finished for her.

  She laughed quietly, acknowledging, “If only that were all it was.”

  “What do you mean?” he muttered almost disbelievingly.

  “I…I kept something from them, and when they found out… Let’s just say it didn’t end well for me.”

  Alaric stiffened ever so slightly. “Did they hurt you?”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  He turned to glimpse her small form, meeting her coppery gaze over his shoulder. “Kerensa—”

  “Ric, I’m not ready—I can’t talk about it,” she murmured, glancing away.

  He studied her, pursing his lips though he bobbed his head, accepting of her answer. “I will wait for you, then. One day, when you’re ready, I’ll be there,” he promised. “I’ll always be right here.”

  Her head fell to his shoulder, and he thought he heard her mumble, “I pray that’s true.” But he couldn’t be sure.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  She had failed.

  Ambria sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped beneath her chin, clueless of what to do.

  After her last Privy Council meeting, she had essentially been forbidden from returning to the council room. The change she thought she could bring to her world was lost. She had lost.

  Tears of frustration and despair sprung to her eyes. Mateo was gone and her parents had labeled her a disgrace. What direction was she supposed to take from here? Was she to be left a widowed tutor while High House Ellymae fell into the hands of Cade? Only the gods knew what her uncle would do with that kind of power. How he’d exploit it for himself.

  She had lost the game and lost her family all in one. There was nothing she could do about any of it now. It was out of her hands, a brick wall built up to keep her from breaking through the morals of narrow-minded men.

  “So, you’re giving up?”

  Bri’s head snapped to the door of her bedroom, where Kai leaned against the doorframe. “Have you come to gloat? To tell me you were right?” she seethed, wiping at her face with her palms.

  “Actually, I came to tell you that I was wrong,” he said, strolling across the room to sit beside her on the bed.

  Ambria started. “What?”

  “I was wrong, Bri. I told you that you were just a woman. But that isn’t true.” Her eldest brother chuckled, the corners of his mouth kicking up. “Do you not see it, Bri? The whispers that follow you, the path you leave in your wake?” Kai sighed. “You’re more than just a woman. You’re my sister. You expect the impossible from yourself so you can make our parents proud. Prouder than I’ve made them,” he pointed out, nudging her a little. “You’re caring and show compassion to everyone, even those who may not deserve your graciousness. You’re probably the bravest person I know and, most importantly, you are daring enough to do what many women are afraid to. You are speaking up, showing them to fight for their voice, their rights.”

  She blinked, confounded by his words.

  “You really do live in your own little bubble, don’t you, sister?” Kai nudged her playfully. “If you give up, Bri, you’re giving up on all the girls you tutor, on all the women who are looking to you now.”

  “I hadn’t even noticed,” she mumbled.

  “Well, start noticing, because there is a long road ahead of you. I, for one, have complete faith in you.”

  Ambria scowled. “That’s because I’m your only option.”

  “Precisely,” Kai admitted with a wink and a smirk. He rose from the bed and offered her his hand. “While you’re speaking to me again, let’s go shopping. Your house is too dreary to spend much time in.”

  “What are we shopping for?” she asked, taking her brother’s hand.

  “Decorations for your house.”

  She shoved him. “You podge.”

  He grinned. “One and only.”

  She laughed, the sound rich and full. Ambria was sure she hadn’t laughed like that since Mateo had passed.

  It felt good.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  It took them three days of hard riding to reach the Ohrivon, and Gray could tell as his unit crossed the frozen river that they were all exhausted, the horses included. It was partially his fault, since he wasn’t keen on staying in one place for long—he didn’t want to give the witches a chance to catch up to them, and the swifter they returned to the capital, the safer they’d all be from the plague. But there was still at least three more days before Evaleer would be in reach, and it would do him no good if he pushed his men too far and they collapsed on the way.

  His horse reared as Gray reined him in, halting their party. “We’ll stop here for a few hours. Take the time to rest. We ride until dusk tomorrow.” He dismounted, patting his horse’s neck in gratitude. Scanning their surroundings as everyone unpacked what they needed, his gaze snagged on Alaric and Kerensa as he helped her down from their shared mount. Gray would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the subtle tension that buzzed between them ever since the two of them had disappeared through the trees on that first day.

  He wasn’t sure if he believed Ric when he said that they were alright.

  He busied himself with the packs on his horse, trying to mask the fact that he was watching their exchange. A look passed between them, and when Kerensa made to walk away, Alaric touched her arm, mouth forming words Gray was too far to hear. What he did see was the way she avoided his gaze and the pleading, desperate look on Ric’s face as he dropped his hand and she headed towards the riverbank.

  Gray pursed his lips. He’d only ever seen the couple indifferent to each other or at one another’s throats. And though he had often let Alaric rant to him about Kerensa’s fiery attitude, Gray knew him damn well enough to see that he genuinely and deeply cared for her. Even if Ric hadn’t realized it yet for himself.

  Gray slid away from his horse and glanced between where Alaric was pitching a tent on his own and the direction in which Kerensa had peeled off. He hesitated for a moment longer before approaching the Ohrivon.

  Kerensa crouched in the snow just before the ice that caged the river, dark hair blowing in the wind.

  Gray took a deep breath. “Did he say something to you?”

  He wasn’t expecting her to jump like she did, standing swiftly and staring at him with wide, unsettling eyes.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he lamented with a wince.

  Her gaze darted over his shoulder once before she said, “Do you need something, Lieutenant?”

  He straightened at her curt response. “Look,” he sighed, “I don’t have any clue as to what you said to each other before we left, and I don’t need to know. But I…I’ve known Ric my whole life. He’s honest and loyal to a fault, and he feels more than he should most of the time. He’s my best friend.” Gray smiled tentatively. “I know that you and I haven’t had much time to get to know each other, but I think we can both agree that we care about him—at least from what I’ve seen. And if he did or said anything to cause whatever the two of you seem to be airing out, I’ll whoop his ass for you.” At the raise of a single brow, he backpedalled, amending, “Or with you.”

  She chuckled and he grinned, reassured by the sound. “Alaric and I are… We’re working it out,” Kerensa provided, returning a small smile. “It’s good to know you have my back, though.”

  He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s the least I can do. If you ever need anything at all, you can always come to me. I promise I won’t tell.”

  She nodded, head tilting to the side. “Actually…would you be able to tell me about the plague?” A strand of hair fell in front of her face, and she reached up to tuck it back behind her ear.

  That’s right. Since Kerensa had come from across the Dridian Sea… Death’s Shadow—in all its five hundred years of existence—had only ever infected Lithera’s continent. She knew essentially nothing about something Gray had been raised to be aware of. “Of course,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lithians often refer to it as Death’s Shadow and it’s been the most common cause of death among our population for half a millennium. No one knows where it came from, but it spread fast and lethally in the beginning, and now…we just live with it.” He scoffed at the hilarity of that. “Only about a hundred and fifty years ago, healers discovered that it attacks the victim’s cells, and then those cells attack the victim. It’s…a painful fate, and most of the infected don’t live longer than three months. There’s been no foreseeable cure either, until—” Gray cut himself off, hesitating on how to continue.

  “Wren Farley.” Her eyes turned beyond the Ohrivon as Kerensa uttered the girl’s name, towards the darkening horizon.

  “So the rumors say,” he admitted quietly.

  “And do you believe the rumors, Lieutenant?” she murmured, glancing back at him.

  He took his time, considering his answer. “I think it’s smarter to have more faith in solid proof, though rumors can have their…advantages.”

  Her head tipped to the side, the faintest smile on her lips. But it fell away abruptly as she started to ask, “Are we in danger of contracting it?”

  “There’s always a chance,” Gray acknowledged. “Though there have been laws in place that protect the general population from those who become infected for centuries, such as quarantined villages for the sick in the north. As long as we steer clear of densely populated areas, we should be fine. And then we’ll be back at the castle in a little more than three days time.”

  “Kerensa.” The voice appeared from behind Gray, and he recognized it as Alaric’s.

  He turned, standing between Ric and Kerensa as their stares met and sizzled with electricity. “You can sleep in our tent,” Ric went on. “I’ll stay in his.” He jabbed his thumb in Gray’s direction.

  Every time they stopped to rest it was the same thing: Alaric gave Kerensa their tent, and then he either pretended like he was actually asleep next to Gray or opted to sit by a fire the whole time and keep watch.

  Gray had no idea why his friend had stopped sleeping or how he even functioned from day to day. All he knew was that after Alaric lost his mother and his brother on the very same day, the innocent boy he’d once been disappeared. Though he was still in there somewhere.

  He had to be.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Flames licked at her, the intense heat melting the skin of her ankles and wrists. She cried out from the pain, and they cheered. Only he remained impassive. He didn’t even flinch. I will always protect you, Wren. The words—his words—taunted her, searing her mind whilst she burned alive. The smell of her singed flesh filled the air as the fire had its way with her. I love you, always have and always will. Tears stung her eyes from the unending pain, inflicted upon her body and her heart. Her future had been eradicated, everything she knew stripped away. She was afraid. Wren didn’t want to die. She screamed and screamed and screamed, but it made no difference. Her ashes would scatter in the wind and not a soul would care at all.

  Wren bolted upright, screaming and drenched in sweat. She writhed at the remnants of the flames, blistering and breaking her skin. Her breathing was sporadic, coming in small gasps she couldn’t control. Tears ran down her cheeks, the feeling of that night clinging to her like a second skin.

  “Kerensa!”

  The roar resounded from outside before Alaric came crashing through the tent flaps, prepared for any danger with sword in hand. He took one look at her on the ground and fell to his knees, tossing Wynter to the side. “Hey, hey,” he gentled, pulling her into his lap. “You’re here. I’m here. Nothing can hurt you.”

  “The fire—it—it—I can feel it,” she rasped between breaths.

  His hands drew soothing patterns all over her clothed body. “It isn’t real, love. Try to come back to me now. Deep breaths, alright?”

  Wren could only shake her head, sobs bubbling up and out. “Make it stop.” Her eyes squeezed shut as she tore at her clothes, clawing for skin.

  There was a long, heavy pause in the air before his voice fluttered down to her again. “I was going to read my mother a book.” She felt him exhale meaningfully. “I wasn’t supposed to spend too much time with her for fear that I would contract the plague as well. But I knew she was dying, and I didn’t much care to listen to my father. Neither then nor now, I suppose. I entered her wing of Farrador Castle, placing my hand on the doorknob to her bedchamber when I heard…his voice. My brother, Rollon. Speaking to her. He’d never bothered to visit the queen on her death bed until that day.”

  The more she focused on the words he spoke, the less Wren felt the physical horrors of her own memories.

  Alaric traced the contours of her face with one finger, almost absentmindedly as he continued on, “I still don’t know what he was saying to her. I cracked the door open slightly so I could see them. Rollon was standing over her weakened body on the bed.” She peeled her eyelids open to see him staring at the canvas wall like he’d gone somewhere deep inside his mind. His sea green eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I saw the knife at his back,” he whispered so quietly, the sudden admission thrumming through her. “I was about to shout something, anything, but all I could do was watch as Rollon cut her throat. As he murdered my mother.”

  Wren blinked, feeling nothing but empty sorrow and grief at his story. His past. “Oh, Ric,” she breathed.

  But now that he’d started, it was as if he couldn’t stop—the words came freely, floating to her ears. “He just stood there, as though he were basking in her death. I saw the blood and I let out a cry. I clamped my hand over my mouth, but Rollon had already heard me. His head snapped in my direction, and I shut the door, backing away, thinking I was going to run and get someone, maybe Captain Larcyn or my father, I didn’t know, never will because I was too much of a coward to do anything.

  “Rollon stormed after me and grabbed the front of my tunic, lifting my feet off the ground. He laid the knife at my neck. I knew he was going to kill me. I wish he had,” Alaric muttered.

  Wren pushed herself up into his sight. “But he didn’t kill you. Why?”

  Their eyes connected and she watched him swallow, brow furrowing. “He hesitated. I saw the change in his eyes. He turned from heartless murderer to my older brother in an instant. Dropped me to the floor, the dagger falling from his hand, too. And he ran. I never saw him again.

  “I didn’t have the courage to tell anyone what had really happened. They chalked the queen’s death up to suicide but claimed to the public that it was the plague that took her. After a year had passed and Rollon did not return, I was named Crown Prince. I’d grown up with the title always associated with Rollon. I didn’t want any reminders of him, but I had no choice.”

  She didn’t even know what to say. “Alaric—”

  “Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture,” he interrupted, gaze cutting away from her. “I would know. It’s why I choose not to put myself through the trail of sleep—I can hardly close my eyes without vomiting.” He sighed, the air tickling her cheeks. “I’ve never said any of what happened that day out loud before.”

  Shivers rose along her arms. “Thank you. For trusting me enough to share that and…for bringing me back here.”

  “I don’t break my promises, and certainly not the ones I’ve made to you. If you want to talk about it, I will listen,” he stated plainly, brushing back her short hair and cupping her face between his hands. He feathered his calloused thumbs along her cheeks as she leaned into his touch.

  Her head shook back and forth in his hold. “I can’t. You won’t want to hear about it,” she whispered. His fingers outlined the shape of her mouth as the words left her lips.

  “I want to know everything about you, Kerensa,” he breathed, his sea green eyes burning with emotion as she gazed at them. The two of them stayed like that for a while, breath mingling in the frigid air.

  Kerensa, Kerensa, Kerensa. What about me? She wondered not for the first time if he would still want her this way if he knew who she truly was.

  Slowly, he reached over to grab his sword, rising to stand and sheath it, before stepping towards the tent flaps. As his hand gripped the fabric, prepared to duck out and leave her to rest for the last couple hours Gray would permit, his name left her mouth impulsively.

  He twisted, looking over his shoulder at her.

  “Will you stay with me?”

  Alaric stilled a moment, as though warring with himself. And then, like he’d come to a decision, he shuffled closer and laid down, leaving his arms open for her. Deliberately, she rested her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder and his lips touched the top of her head. “Every day,” he murmured into her hair. His arms came around her and Wren had never felt safer in all her life than she did here with him right now.

  Will it be enough if we pretend for the rest of our lives?

  Part Seven

  † ~ †

  A Means to an End

  Chapter Forty-Eight