Her gaze didn't find me first. It found the harpy. Something passed between them—something I couldn't name, couldn't touch. A bond forged in blood and impossible magic.
Alice lifted her hand, weak and trembling, and brushed her fingers against the harpy's clawed ones.
"Friend," she whispered.
The harpy's twisted face softened. She nodded once—slow, deliberate—then spread her healed wings and launched into the sky.
I watched her disappear above the treeline before looking back down at Alice.
She was awake. She was alive.
And I was never letting her go again.
I scooped Alice up into my arms and pulled her against my chest. She still had her bow and arrows, but they weighed nothing compared to the relief flooding through me. She was warm. She was breathing. She wasalive.
“Darius, you’re too weak.” Her fingers curled into my shirt. She snuggled closer, and something in my chest burst open.
“The hell I am.”
My legs burned. My arms shook. The poison hadn't fully left my system, and every muscle screamed at me to stop, to rest, to let someone else carry her.
I didn't care.
I forced myself to move. One step. Then another. I didn't falter. I wouldn't. Not with her in my arms.
She was mine. And I would die before I let anything happen to her.
Alanna's magic had done this. That dark, vicious power had nearly ripped Alice away from me. And it was getting stronger—I could feel it in the way the shadows had fought back, the way the collar had clawed at Alice's life force like a starving animal.
What would happen when they finally faced each other? Alice and Alanna. Light and dark. Good and evil.
What if evil was stronger?
My arms tightened around her. My jaw ached from clenching.
It didn't matter. I'd stand between them. I'd burn the whole kingdom down. I'd tear Alanna apart with my bare hands if I had to.
No one was taking Alice from me.
No one.
I slipped inside the grotto with Alice cradled against my chest. Her breathing had steadied, deep and even; she'd fallen asleep somewhere between the forest and here.
I lowered her onto the cot next to mine, gentle as I could manage. She didn't stir. Her face was still too pale, dark circles bruising the skin beneath her eyes. But her chest rose and fell. Her heart beat steady beneath my palm.
She was alive. That was all that mattered.
I wasn't leaving her. Not tonight. Not ever, if I could help it.
I sank onto the edge of my cot, my elbows on my knees, and watched her sleep. My mind wouldn't quiet.
She thought we needed the harpy. Why? Harpies were vicious, merciless creatures. Tools of the queen and her allies. No one befriended a harpy—you either controlled them or you died by their talons.
Still, the feather rested in Alice’s fingers—dark, iridescent, and terrifyingly gentle. A contradiction she refused to let go of.
But Alice had looked at that broken, tortured creature and seen something worth saving.
So many questions swirled through my head, demanding answers I didn't have. But they would have to wait.
