But some nights, when sleep refused to come, she admitted the truth: she was terrified of stopping. Because if she didn’t push forward, if she quit the search, it would mean that her sister was gone and not just missing.
And then she found Meg’s diary full of nonsense, but one name. A place. A name mentioned twice by different people who didn’t know each other at places her sister had frequented. A place that surfaced in online forums, chat rooms, and late-night conversations at bars where no one asked last names. Each time Mallory heard it, her chest tightened like her body recognized something her mind had missed.
That place sat on the edge of the map. It was a destination that most had never heard of and even if they had, the coldweather discouraged most. It was easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it, but perfect if you didn’t want to be found.
Or if someone didn’t want you to be found.
Her instincts whispered the same thing they had for months. Whatever had happened to Meg, it had something to do with her current location.
The Iskara Northlands.
She flipped the notebook open but the words blurred together. Her mind betrayed her, replaying the moment again on the cliff.
The sudden slip. The sickening drop.
And then strong and steady hands locking around her wrist. The way he’d pulled her back like gravity itself belonged to him. How close he’d been. How his eyes had searched her face, intense and startlingly gentle at the same time.
“You’re safe,” he’d said, voice low and firm.
She’d believed him instantly.
Mallory slammed the notebook shut and covered her face with both hands. “Get it together, Mal.”
This was ridiculous. People slipped and fell all the time. People got help after falling. Normal, everyday stuff. It didn’t mean anything.
And yet her body remembered. The warmth of him against the cold air. The quiet certainty in his touch. The way her knees had gone weak after he let go, like her balance had depended on more than just the ground beneath her feet.
She rolled onto her side and yanked the comforter over her head, curling in on herself like a turtle retreating into its shell.
Focus. Meg.On the leads. On the reality, not a fairy tale that didn’t exist.
As evening crept in, the light faded from gold to deep blue shadows. Somewhere outside, laughter echoed faintly from the courtyard. Mallory’s breathing slowed despite herself.
Sleep came quickly.
She dreamed of his strong arms pulling her close and holding her tight. His breath against her ear.
But there was something else this time that she hadn’t felt on a conscious level. Something deeper, like a low hum beneath the surface full of power coiled just under skin. Not dangerous. Not exactly.
Just… alive.
Fingertips brushed her cheek. A voice whispered her name and even in her subconscious, the sound vibrated straight through her chest.
Mallory leaned into it without thinking.
Then she jolted awake.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She sat straight up in the dim room and one hand flew to her throat. The dream clung to her like a memory that refused to fade.
“Oh no,” she whispered and dropped her forehead to her knees.
Dreaming about a stranger? A man she’d known for maybe five minutes? That was embarrassing. That was unhinged.
She flopped back onto the pillows and groaned into them. She could feel her cheeks burn.
She was on holiday. She was here to relax. To chase leads. To find her sister.
And somehow all she could think about was the mysterious man with eyes so blue they reminded her of a peacock, who had caught her like she belonged in his arms. A man she would probably never see again.
