"Perhaps she should decide that herself."
"Perhaps you should remember whose—"
"If you're all quite finished," Karse's drawl cut through the mounting tension, "we should leave before noon. Unless you'd prefer to measure who has the bigger—"
"Karse," Sian said sharply.
The Drak grinned. "I was going to say territory. What did you think I meant?"
Despite everything, Briar felt her lips twitch. The absurdity of it—two fae lords posturing over her while they prepared to journey into corrupted wilderness to prevent an apocalypse. The situation would be funny if it didn't make her want to scream.
"He's right," Thaine said, already mounted. "We're losing daylight."
The group began final preparations with renewed urgency. Briar moved to Phaeon, grateful for the excuse to put distance between herself and both Eliam and Arion. The horse nickered softly as she approached, his breath steaming in the cold.
"At least you're simple," she murmured, stroking his neck. "No complicated feelings. Just carrots and apples and not being kicked."
"Talking to the horse now?"
She turned to find Halian leading his own mount over, his usual cheerfulness dimmed but present. Of everyone, he seemed the most affected by Ferria's escape—guilt written in the tight line of his mouth, the shadows under his eyes.
"Horses are better conversationalists than fae sometimes," she said.
"Fair point." He paused, then: "I'm sorry. About my sister. About everything she's done."
"It's not your fault."
"Everyone keeps saying that," his hand clenched on his reins. "But I should have seen it. Should have paid more attention. She hated that I made her leave the Forest Court, that I turned her into an outcast. I thought she would get over it. I guess I was wrong."
Briar didn't know what to say to that. What comfort could she offer when Ferria had helped orchestrate so much pain?
"We'll stop her," she said finally. "And Malus. We'll fix this."
Halian managed a weak smile. "Your optimism is refreshing. Possibly misguided, but refreshing."
"Mount up," Eliam called, already on his horse. "We're leaving."
The group assembled with the practiced efficiency of people who'd traveled together before—except Briar, who still needed two attempts to get into Phaeon's saddle and nearly slid off the other side before Eliam's hand shot out to steady her.
"Careful," he said, and she hated how her body responded to even that simple touch, warmth flooding through her that might be hers or might be the magic or might be so tangled together she'd never separate them.
"I'm fine," she said, adjusting her seat the way he'd taught her.
His hand lingered on her thigh for a moment before he pulled back, and she saw uncertainty flicker across his face. As if he could feel her pulling away and didn't understand why.
I don't know what's real,she thought.I don't know if I chose you or if something inside me did it for me.
But she couldn't say that. Not here, not now, maybe not ever.
The group formed a loose column with Thaine at the lead, followed by Eliam and Briar, then Arion, Sian and Halian, and Karse ranging somewhere behind. The formation felt deliberate with Eliam positioning himself between her and Arion, a physical barrier to match the emotional one building between them all.
They moved through the Star Court gates as the sun crested the horizon, pale winter light painting everything in shades of blue and silver. Briar looked back once, seeing the crystalline spires catching the light, the gardens still impossibly blooming despite the snow. Safety. Warmth. Everything they were leaving behind.
When she turned forward again, Eliam was watching her.
"Second thoughts?" he asked.
"No." That, at least, was true. Whatever doubts plagued her about her feelings, she knew this journey was necessary. "Just... saying goodbye."
