“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now? Now we meet my crew. Try not to scream when you see Bryx—he’s sensitive about his appearance.”
“What’s wrong with his appearance?”
“He’s part insect. Compound eyes, antennae, the works.”
“Of course he is.” She laughed again, that broken sound that was becoming familiar. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
I started walking, not waiting to see if she’d follow. She did—what else was she going to do?
“For what it’s worth,” I said, not looking back, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything that’s about to happen to you. For the marks choosing you. For Josephine not preparing you. For me being the one protecting you.” I paused. “Mostly that last one.”
“Are you really that bad?”
I turned to look at her, letting her see the corruption spreading across my face, the inked veins that pulsed with each heartbeat, the carved marks thatwere slowly killing me from the inside out.
“I’m worse,” I said simply. “But I keep my word. Jo asked me to protect you, so I will. But don’t mistake that for kindness. Or friendship. Or anything other than debt.”
“I won’t,” she said, and there was steel in her voice now. Good. She’d need it.
The Thornwood opened before us, revealing a clearing where my crew waited. They looked up as we approached—Bryx with his compound eyes gleaming, Nimor materializing from mist, Eltrien glowing softly with healer’s light, Vashael’s pollen cloud shimmering gold, Sarnyx’s thorns already extended.
“Boss,” Bryx said, his antennae twitching. “You found—” He stopped, staring at Elle. They all did. “Holy shit. Those are the marks. The actual marks.”
“Yes.”
“The ones that were supposed to be—”
“Yes.”
An awkward silence fell. Everyone knew my story. Everyone knew what the marks meant to me.
Elle looked between us, then squared her shoulders. “Hi. I’m Elle. Apparently, I’m wearing something that should belong to tall, dark, and furious over there. I have no idea what’s happening, and I might vomit again. Fair warning.”
Bryx laughed, a chittering sound that most humans found terrifying. Elle didn’t even flinch. “I like her.”
“You like everyone,” Vashael said, her voice like wind through flowers.
“I like everyone interesting. She’s definitely interesting.”
“She’s definitely going to get us killed,” Sarnyx muttered.
“Probably,” I agreed. “But we were heading that direction anyway.”
Eltrien stepped forward, his pale features concerned. “Kaelren, your marks—”
“Are spreading. I know.”
“The corruption is accelerating. That fight—”
“Was necessary.” I cut him off. “Auradelle wanted her. Now he doesn’t have her.”
“And when he comes for her?”
