With them, I didn’t feel like a liability. Didn’t feel like I was one mistake away from being cast out.
Only Darius made me feel broken.
And somehow, that hurt worst of all.
Chapter Fifteen
Darius
I was running through the Forgotten Forest, faster than I’d ever moved before. Branches clawed at my arms. Mist curled around my ankles like ghostly fingers.
Something moved ahead of me. A shadow, darting between the twisted trees. Always just out of reach.
I had to catch it. I didn’t know why—only that if I didn’t, something terrible would happen. Something I couldn’t take back.
“Wait!” My voice echoed through the trees. “Stop!”
The shadow paused.
Slowly, it turned.
Blue eyes stared back at me. Bright and fierce and achingly familiar.
Pain brought me out of my restless dream.
I bit it back. Swallowed it down.
The cavern was quiet. No one had heard. No one knew.
But my heart was still racing. And I couldn’t shake the image of those blue eyes fading into nothing.
I turned my head, searching through the dim light until I found her. Alice lay on the cot nearby, her chest rising and falling softly.
Still here. Still breathing.
I exhaled slowly. But sleep didn’t come again.
After several moments I glanced over at Alice again—and stilled. She was awake. She watched me through half-lidded eyes, her blond hair tumbling across her face like spun gold.
For a split second, I imagined this. Waking up beside her. Seeing those blue eyes first thing every morning.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it settled into my chest like it belonged there.
Dangerous. That was dangerous thinking.
I cleared my throat. “Where is everybody?”
“Hunting. Gathering intel.” She shifted on her cot to face me. “Grump wants to know where Ari and the army went. Rabbit should be here in a couple of days.”
Good. If Rabbit was coming, we'd finally have a full picture of the queen's movements. But Ari still being out there with an army meant Alice wasn't safe. None of us were.
“How long have I been out?”
Every hour I'd been unconscious was another hour Flint and Steel were in the queen's hands. Another hour of torture. Another hour closer to execution.
“Ten hours. Maybe more.” Her eyes searched mine, and I felt it—that pull, that connection I’d been trying to ignore. “How are you feeling?”
“Like hell.” I gritted my teeth and tried to push myself up. My arms shook. My side screamed. I made it halfway before my body gave out and I fell back against the cot. “Like I want to get out of this damn cot and can’t.”
