When I reached the base of the winding staircase, Surren gave me a subtle nod and pivoted, standing near the wall with the others to wait until I was ready to return to my suite. The stairs coiled upward, stretching endlessly toward the top. With each step, my boots scuffed against stone worn smooth by generations of kings, each swallowed by the curse.
As I climbed, I thought of Merrick’s earlier confession, the way he’d said, “Remember me.” It echoed in my mind, twisting around the memory of Lorant lying beside me on my bed, his rough hands gentle as he rubbed my belly. The way he'd sat with me in his arms at night, determined to be there if I needed him. And the way he hadn’t grimaced while helping me with things that would make me cringe if I thought about them too hard.
Gentle was not a word I'd ever associated with Lorant. How was it possible that when it came to me, he and Merrick could be the same?
When I reached the top, the thick iron door creaked open before I could raise my hand to do it myself. Fog spilled out like it had been summoned by the stark differences of this man and the other.
I stepped inside, and he turned from where he stood at the window on the opposite side of the tower room.
His silhouette cut against the silver moonlight spilling through the window behind him. As always, he wore all black, from his boots to his pants to his tunic—the last adorned only with a few hints of silver. And tonight, a cloak. The same he'd worn when he followed me through the village and welcomed me onto the ship? Everything about this man felt unreal. Dangerous. His frame appeared carved from stone, every muscle honed for battle. For survival.
For me?
The light caught the deep scar slashing from his brow to hisjaw, reminding me of how much he’d endured, how he’d fought something horrible and survived. His green eyes, darker than Merrick’s, flickered almost ferally, making that storm he often claimed to be feel closer, as if his wind and rain had chased me up the stairs and now that I’d arrived, diffused into warm mist.
“Welcome, Wildfire,” he rasped, his voice a skate across my skin that brought out delicious shivers.
Wildfire.
The title should’ve reminded me of our push-and-pull relationship. Instead, hearing it from him warmed something inside me I wasn’t prepared to analyze.
“You’re late.” The way his brow arched, the faint sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth, reminded me again of who—and what—this man was.
I could tell he was trying to provoke me, to test my boundaries, like he always did. It should have made this feel familiar, but tonight, everything felt changed. The air between us was heavier somehow, crackling with things unsaid.
“I’m here now.” I stepped to the middle of the tower room. The door groaned shut behind me, sealing us in and sealing my guards out.
His gaze raked over me, assessing me in a way that felt more personal than any touch. “Are you all right? You look?—”
A blink and he’d flitted in front of me. When he latched onto my shoulders, I winced.
He reeled backward, his hands lifting. “What fucking happened?” he snarled, ripping forward to gently tug my tunic to the side. With a vein throbbing in his temple, he studied the slash on my shoulder. “They. Are. Dead.”
“I took care of it already.”
“Who?” he roared.
“I was attacked by a mirror.”
“What mirror?” he slashed his head around the tower room as if a shiny silver glass would appear long enough for him to destroy it.
“It’s gone. I broke it. Sent the attacker back wherever they came from.”
“Tell meeverything.”
While he seared the wounds on my shoulder and forearm closed and helped me tug my tunic back into place, I told him about following Erisandra and what I found in the meadow.
After, he cupped my face and stared into my eyes. “Do not do that again.”
“I need to know what’s going on here, and if I hide in my room, I’ll never figure it out.”
“I don’t care. Protection doesn’t go past the castle walls. Stay inside. Locked in your suite. Do not leave. I’m not worth the loss of even one strand of your hair.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong.” I lifted my chin. “I will continue to risk myself to fix this.”
“No,” he snapped, whirling away from me, stalking over to the window where he braced his palms on the frame and bellowed out into the night. His roar cut off. The world outside remained still before the soft whir of insects began once more.
Joining him, peering out at the nothing, I fiddled with the strap on my blade belt. “What will you do about Erisandra?”
