“Sweetheart, listen. We may have been harsh before, but we miss you. Corwin misses you and your place is with us. Withfamily,” she cooed in that voice that she always used when she wanted something.
Corwin didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve beendevastatedwithout you.” He said it like he was reading from a script. “I thought you’d come to your senses eventually.”
I folded my arms. “I came to my senses when Ileft.”
My father tried a softer approach. “Darling, your future’s at home with us. The apothecary. The Greyleaf legacy. This—” He gestured to the building, to Ribbon, and then to Savla and the other two males, “—this is temporary.”
My mother nodded sympathetically. “You can’t possibly thrive here.”
Something hot and steady rose in my chest. Rage, yes, but something else, too. Belonging.
“Iamthriving,” I stated, my voice firmer than any of them had ever heard it. I saw my mother’s brow furrow, but it was Corwin that responded.
He snorted. “Sure. Running around with orcs. Playing with frogs.”
A loud croak echoed from behind Savla’s leg—Ribbon had apparently taken offense to being called a frog.
Corwin smirked at the sound. “You can’t be serious right now, Hanna. This isembarrassing,”he scoffed.
My cheeks heated with humiliation even though I didn’t believe a single word he was saying. Old wounds starting ripping open.
Savla shifted then. It was just one step and it wasn’t enough to touch me, but itwasenough to put his body between me and Corwin’s line of fire.
His jaw was clenched, his shoulders were squared, and I saw his claws flex. The same ones on the left that he took such care to keep sharp so that he could use them to chisel instead of a paring knife when he needed it. He’d trimmed the others on his dominant hand ever since he’d met me.
He still didn’t speak and I knew him well enough now to know why. He didn’t trust himself to. Not because he didn’t care—but because caring frightened him more than battle ever could.
My mother misread his silence entirely. “See? Evenhedoesn’t know what you’re doing out here.”
I inhaled sharply. “This ismychoice.”
Corwin waved a hand dismissively. “Hanna, stop humiliating us. Thesethingsdon’t actually care about you. Especially nothim.” He jerked his chin toward Savla. “He hasn’t said a single thing since we got here. I think hewantsyou to leave.”
Savla inhaled sharply and for a heartbeat, a small sound left him—raw, agonized.
I understood what he was trying to tell me without saying it. Corwin was absolutely wrong about this male. Hedidn’twant me to leave. He justwishedhe could keep me closer. And I was going to find out what I could do to break the barriers so wecouldbe together.
He thought defending me meant surrendering to something he wasn’t ready to face. I turned away from him and toward the people who had failed me in every way that mattered.
“I’m not getting in that car,” I said. “I’m not goinganywherewith you.”
My mother’s mouth thinned. “Hanna—”
“No.” I lifted my chin. “This is where I belong.”
Corwin scoffed. “Withthem?” The scorn in his voice wasclear.
“Yes,” I said simply. “Withthem.” I replaced the scorn with pride, becausethiswas the family I was choosing. The only one that mattered.”Because they treat me better than you ever did.”
Everyone around me held their breath. Even my parents faltered.I stepped back, crossing the invisible line between past and present, city and clan, blood and chosen family.
Savla didn’t move, but he reached me through our bond. It was tentative, instinctive and unbidden.
It wrapped around my wrist like a warm, invisible thread. In it, I felt a silent promise and a fierce, trembling confession he wasn’t ready to speak. Not yet. But someday?
The bond whispered.
Yes.
