“Try not to die immediately,” she said. “It would be anticlimactic.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“The plan hasn’t changed,” Kaelren said as we gathered at the border, his voice all business, his back rigid, deliberately not looking at me. “We continue to the Heartspire to see the Bloom. It’s our best option for—”
“For completing my transformation in a controlled way,” I finished. “I remember the plan.”
He’d been like that since we’d gathered at dawn—all clipped orders and cold efficiency, the man from last night completely buried under layers of control.
Fine. If he wanted to pretend nothing happened, I could pretend too.
Except I couldn’t stop noticing the way dawn light caught in his silver eyes, or how his marks seemed to pulse in sync with mine when we got too close, or how his jaw clenched every time someone said my name.
“The Heartspire is still several days’ travel,” Vashael added. “If we can avoid the Hunt that long.”
“We won’t,” Kaelren said flatly. “Merithra’s protection ends at her borders. The moment we cross, they’ll come.”
“Ready?” Vashael asked, appearing at my side.
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. Honesty is refreshing.” She glanced toward Kaelren. “Whatever happened between you two last night, work it out fast. Tension like that gets people killed.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Right. And I’m the Queen of the Summer Court.” She moved away before I could respond.
The Autumn Court’s borders shimmered as we crossed them, Merithra’s protection falling away like a discarded cloak. The moment my foot touched unclaimed ground, I felt them. The Wild Hunt. Not just their presence but their hunger, pressing against my consciousness like fingers probing for weakness.
“Move,” Kaelren commanded, his voice clipped and cold. Still not looking at me. “They’re already coming.”
Our eyes met for half a second—just long enough for me to see the storm behind his carefully controlled expression—then he looked away first, jaw tight.
Right. We were doing this, then. Pretending.
We’d barely made it fifty yards into the forest when the first horn sounded—not heard but felt, vibrating through bones and blood. The trees around us shuddered, leaves falling like tears.
“Bees won’t help us,” Bryx said, Kevin buzzing anxiously around his head. “The Hunt drives them mad.”
“Then we run,” Sarnyx said, thorns already extending.
“Running just delays the inevitable,” Eltrien murmured, and there wassomething in his voice—resignation? Recognition? “The Hunt never fails.”
Another horn, closer. Through the canopy, I caught glimpses of them—riders that flickered between solid and transparent, neither fully there nor fully gone. Their mounts were worse, horses made of mist and darkness that moved through trees like they weren’t there.
“This way,” Nimor called, materializing from shadow. “There’s a ravine—”
The hounds found us first.
They came from everywhere and nowhere, massive things with too many teeth and eyes that glowed like dying stars, bodies that seemed to phase in and out of existence with each stride. When they howled, reality itself rippled, trees bending away from the sound.
“You know what would be great right now?” Peeble muttered. “Literally anything else. Sarnyx’s cooking. A corruption infection. Listening to Kaelren explain tactical formations for six hours.”
“Form up!” Kaelren commanded, and the crew instinctively fell into defensive positions. “Back to back, don’t let them separate us!”
“Don’t look at them directly!” Vashael warned, but one of the hounds had already locked eyes with Bryx.
He froze mid-step, compound eyes going wide with terror. “No, no, no—” His voice rose to a panicked buzz. “Kevin, I’m sorry, I should have—”
