“Come on, Dom! I really don’t want to lose any body parts today. I’m on a promise with Penn later, and these balls are kind of important.”
Domanikk’s amusement is a low, velvet rasp in the silence.
“Depends on what’s in it for me. Is Penn the sharing type? Or are you the one who likes to play together?” he drawls.
“That mini harem you got going on not doing it for you lately?” Rawson growls back.
“I’ve never been accused of being a Fae with limits. If it’s on offer, I’m interested. I’ll make you a deal, as I’m feeling particularly generous after all that delicious violence. We don’t say anything if not asked directly, and this exquisite little ruin is mine.”
“Deal! She’s going to be more trouble than she’s worth when he finds out—that’s if he doesn’t just take her himself. I’m sure fucking Prince Kiernan’s wife would make his day.”
His name steals the air from my lungs. My chest constricts, ribs squeezing tight around something suddenly too large and jagged to contain. The pain radiates outward—sharp, physical, real—as if someone has reached inside and twisted everything I am.
I reach for the Bond, that golden thread humming beneath my skin since the day we got married.
Nothing.
Not even an echo. Just a hollow space where warmth should pulse, where his presence should anchor me. The silence stretches vast and cold inside my chest. Tears well and spill down my cheeks, hot against skin that feels too thin, too exposed, as if something essential has been carved away.
The earth beneath my feet begins to decline as we continue, and I instinctively lean backwards to keep myself from pitching forwards. Faint sounds of life—like a hum in the air—start surrounding us.
I stop abruptly as I hear a melodic song, high and sweet. It’s joined by more when I really listen, a chorus of different tunes and pitches dancing in the air.
Birds.
I let out an astonished laugh. I haven’t heard birds since we lived in the Whispering Glade, a life almost forgotten. A sharpdig in my back breaks my wonder, and I stumble on, their tune a welcome companion.
A large, rough hand grips my shoulder, hot breath on my neck.
“We are almost there. I’d suggest watching your mouth in front of him when we arrive,” Rawson growls. He guides me onto a thick log and holds me balanced in front of him as we inch across, the rough bark making my shredded soles burn.
All at once, sounds of chatter and music assault me, along with smells of burning wood and sweat.
Rawson’s hand on my shoulder guides me into what must be a clearing, I feel grass seeping between my toes and the sounds are less stifled, as if we’re in an open space.
The hum of noise becomes a chaotic symphony of shouting and laughter. We pass close to a fire; the heat laps my skin like an embrace, and the smell of wood, smoke, and lingering meat has my hunger grumbling in protest.
A voice cuts off mid-laugh. Then another falls silent. The music stops—still vibrating in the sudden quiet. Footsteps halt. Even the crackle of the fire seems to soften. The air itself goes still, as if every living thing has drawn breath and held it.
Rawson suddenly kicks the back of my legs and leans on my shoulders, forcing me down to my knees. The ground here is less grass and more dry packed earth. I hear the other two prisoners nearby, their breathing like mine—deep and rapid from the hike.
“Whose fucking bright idea was it to bring Earthbound Fae into Heartwood?”
The voice demands attention—rich and smooth, with a confidence and control that needs no volume to command obedience. My skin prickles cold despite the nearby fire. Every hair on my body stands rigid. Even without sight, I knowthis Equitae is looking at me with contempt; a dangerous, unyielding presence.
“I may have gotten a little carried away during the raid,” Domanikk replies, his voice soothing with a hint of deference.
“You may be my Lieutenant, Domanikk, but this doesn’t excuse you from following our rules—no Earthbound on Heartwood soil. You have signed their death sentences and wasted your own time bringing them here.”
“The King had the Thorn Guards ready to march on Heartwood. If we hadn’t distracted him, he may have beaten us here,” Domanikk replied.
He lets out a furious growl, and those gathered start shouting at once, tension building as tempers flare.
“We will be ready for them if they try to set foot in Heartwood,” he replies, his voice terrifyingly cool. “Now, what to do with his pets?”
“Can we bargain with them? For our captives at the castle, I mean,” Rawson suggests, speaking up for the first time.
As I puzzle at the mention of captives I’ve never seen, I feel a looming presence in front of me.
