“You resisted,” he said in a firm voice that told me I couldn’t argue about that part.
I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. “I feel like I shouldn’t be this upset,” I hiccupped.
“You can feel however you need to.” His voice was rougher than usual—like he was restraining emotion of his own.
I turned my head slightly to see him. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was staring at the dirt, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white.
“Savla,” I whispered. “You stepped in even though you didn’t want to.”
His jaw tightened. “He shouldn’t have said what he said. He shouldn’t have gottenclose enoughto speak to you or touch you,” he muttered, his words strained as though they were painful to him.
Something fierce and raw flashed through me.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” I whispered.
His breath hitched—quiet, but unmistakable. He still didn’t touch me. But he leaned just slightly—shoulder nearly brushing mine.
In his body was a silent plea, a reluctant surrender and a terrified, trembling want.I leaned back into his side just barely. Little more than a breath. He inhaled sharply, the air between us glowing with tension, allowing fear and longing to intertwine.
Ribbon returned then—panting heavily, triumphant, covered in dust and glory. He plopped his massive body directly onto my lap and croaked softly.
Savla huffed out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Hedidwarn him.”
Despite everything that had just happened and the pain that was still filling my chest at the expressions on my parents’ faces—I grinned.
Because Iwasn’talone. Not anymore. I had a clan, a coven, a toad and now I had...Savla. He stayed beside me until the last of my shaking eased.
Without touching. Without pushing. But never once stepping away.
Chapter 21
Savla
The walk back to Hanna’s apartment was quiet. Not the easy kind of quiet we sometimes shared—the soft, warm silence where her magic brushed against me and everything felt strangely right.
No. This silence felt fragile.
Hanna walked beside me, her hands tucked into her sleeves and her shoulders hunched like she was trying to hold herself together. She didn’t cry again. She didn’t crumble. She just… walked.And I matched her steps, letting the evening settle around us, letting the safety of the building smooth the sharp edges Corwin and her parents had carved into her.
At one point, she swayed—just slightly, not enough to fall. Enough to make something inside me reach for her—a reflex I stamped out quickly.
“Easy,” I said quietly.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
She wasn’t. Iknewshe wasn’t. But she straightened, lifting her chin, determined to not look small or lost. Or like she’d been hurt by people who didn’t deserve to have that power over her.
When we reached her door, Ribbon hopped ahead and pressed himself against the door like a sentry. Hanna huffed a shaky laugh. “Thanks, boy.”
I should’ve said goodnight then. I should’ve turned around. I should’ve gone before temptation made me stupid.
Instead, I cleared my throat. “If you need anything, you can… find me.”
Her eyes lifted to mine—wide, honest, unbearably soft in the lamplight.
“I know,” she said.
Two simple words, but they landed like truth and the truth was dangerous. So I nodded once, stepped back, and forced myself to turn away before the bond tugged me any closer.
