The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I hate that I believe him. I hate that some stupid, naive part of me still wants to trust this man even after everything he’s just confessed. Eight months ago, the curse would have protected me from this kind of foolishness. It would have kept my emotions muted and my judgment clear. Now I’m drowning in feelings I don’t know how to handle, and making decisions based on the look in a man’s eyes rather than logic and reason.
This is what freedom costs, apparently. The ability to be spectacularly, catastrophically stupid.
I open my mouth to respond, to tell him I need more time to think, when movement in the trees catches my attention.
An old woman steps out of the fog like she materialized from the forest itself. She’s small and bent with age, with gray hair twisted into elaborate braids that come to rest just past her waist. Her eyes are pale and milky, but they fix on me, making my skin prickle. There’s something ancient about her, something that speaks of power held in check.
Behind her comes a younger woman who is maybe in her mid-thirties with dark hair. She’s carrying a small leather satchel over one shoulder, and she keeps glancing between Patrick and me like she’s working on something only she can see.
Patrick scrambles to his feet and positions himself between the newcomers and me. “Evangeline, I didn’t expect—”
“You didn’t expect me to know you were coming?” The old woman’s voice is dry as autumn leaves. “Boy, I’ve been watching you since you crossed into my territory. Did you think the Hysopp forests don’t have eyes?”
I recognize her now. Evangeline. The witch who officiated Sera’s marriage to Reeyan when they needed to complete their bond to break the curse. Sera described her as ancient and unsettling, someone who seemed to know things she shouldn’t and spoke in riddles that only made sense after the fact. Looking at her now, I understand why my sister found her so unnerving.
She’s staring at me with those clouded eyes, and I feel like she’s reading something written in my soul.
“I haven’t agreed to anything,” I declare, looking between the three of them. “Whatever he told you, whatever he’s planning, I haven’t said yes.”
“I know.” Evangeline raises her index finger and adds, “But you will.”
“Excuse me?”
The younger woman places a hand on Evangeline’s shoulder. “My name is Maeve. I’m Evangeline’s apprentice, and I need you to understand something before you make any decisions.”
“The only decision I’m making is to leave.” I take a step backward, putting more distance between myself and all three of them. “I’m going to find my sister, and I’m going to tell her everything, and then I’m going to let the allied packs deal with this situation the way it should be dealt with.”
“If you do that, you’ll be dead within the week.”
The words stop me cold. Maeve’s voice is quiet, almost gentle, but there’s no uncertainty in it. She says it like she’s reporting the weather, like she’s stating a fact rather than making a threat.
“I’m a seer,” she continues. “Not like the psychics in your allied packs. I don’t just sense emotions or hear whispers of whatmight be. I see possible futures, branching paths of what could happen depending on the choices people make. And I’ve seen what happens if this marriage doesn’t occur.”
“Then tell me. Tell me what you supposedly saw.”
Maeve glances at Evangeline, who gives a small nod of permission.
“I can’t tell you the specifics. Revealing too much about a future can change it in unpredictable ways, and some paths need to unfold naturally to reach the right destination. But I can tell you this. You are the glue, Caelan. You hold something important together, something that affects more than just yourself or your pack. If you run now, if you refuse this bond, people will die. A lot of people. Including your sister.”
I suck in an involuntary breath. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.” Maeve’s eyes are sad, and I see no deception in them. “I’ve seen the path where you refuse. I’ve seen the blood and the fire and the grief that follows. I’ve seen Sera weeping over bodies that shouldn’t be dead, and I’ve seen you blaming yourself for every single one of them because you’ll know, deep down, that you could have prevented it.”
“That’s not fair.” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for showing weakness. “You can’t just tell me people will die if I don’t marry a stranger and expect me to believe you. That’s manipulation. That’s exactly the kind of thing Thornridge would do.”
“I’m not Thornridge. I have no loyalty to their pack or their goals. My only loyalty is to the truth of what I see.” Maeve reaches out and touches my arm, and I’m too stunned to pull away. “I know this feels wrong. I know it feels like everyone is trying to control you, to force you into a choice you never wantedto make. But sometimes the choices we don’t want are the ones that matter most.”
Evangeline has produced a small book from somewhere, bound in worn leather that looks older than anything I’ve ever seen.
“We don’t have time for lengthy discussions,” the old witch announces as she flips through the pages. “The Thornridge scouts are closer than you think, and once they reach this clearing, no amount of magic will hide you from them. The forest can only do so much.”
“I said I haven’t agreed—”
“Then agree.” Her voice cuts through my protest like a blade. “Or don’t. The choice is yours, child. It has always been yours. But make it now, because you won’t get another chance to make it freely.”
I look at Patrick, who has been silent through this entire exchange. He’s on his feet now, watching me expectantly, like he’s already accepted that I might say no and is preparing himself for the consequences.
“What do you want?” I ask him. “Honestly. Not what you think will protect me. What do you actually want?”
