Malric straightened, his hand going to his sword. “What is that?”
As if summoned by the gong, the door behind me opened.
Aveline stood there, wrapped in one of the blankets I’d brought her, hair mussed from sleep, eyes clearer now despite the lingering shadow beneath them. She looked between us, then tilted her head slightly.
Aveline’s shoulders eased. “It’s time to eat,” she said. “Follow me.”
She turned without waiting for agreement and began walking down the corridor, the blanket trailing behind her. The movement revealed bare feet on stone, the hem of her gown brushing her ankles. She looked smaller wrapped in the blanket, softer, and something in my chest tightened painfully at the sight.
Malric followed, posture rigid, gaze locked forward.
We entered the dining hall, and the long stone table was set neatly with three places. Plates already held steaming food. Bread. Meat. A bowl of fruit. The scent of it made my stomach twist sharply with hunger I hadn’t noticed building.
Aveline took her seat at the head of the table, blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, posture straightening as she settled. Something about her shifted then, subtle but unmistakable. Her chin lifted. Her gaze sharpened. The frightened woman in the bedchamber receded, replaced by something composed and reserved.
A princess.
Malric noticed it too. His expression went thunderous, though he kept his arms folded.
“I wouldn’t eat that,” he said flatly, shooting me a glare.
Aveline shrugged. “Then don’t.”
He stared at the food. “Are you sure it’s not drugged?”
She looked at him as if the question bored her. “To what purpose?”
He frowned, clearly unsure what to respond.
I didn’t hesitate. I sat and reached for the bread, tearing off a piece and biting into it. The taste was real. Warm. My stomach unclenched with a grateful ache.
“I’m starving,” I said. “And if she wanted us dead, we’d already be dead.”
Malric’s jaw worked. He didn’t sit.
Aveline’s attention shifted to me instead, curiosity brightening her gaze. “Tell me about yourself, Thane,” she asked.
I swallowed. I wasn’t looking forward to sharing my past. “I grew up on the borderlands—second son in a noble family. When my magic manifested, my family sent me to the king for ‘training.’ But it wasn’t all it was supposed to be. Malric saved me and I joined the rebellion because there wasn’t anything else left.”
She listened, really listened, head tilted slightly, eyes steady on my face. Her scent shifted again, warm interest threading through it, and my body responded in kind, heat coiling low and tight.
She asked, “Why are you here?”
I hesitated, then answered honestly. “Because people are dying. And because I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.”
Malric made a sound under his breath, arms still crossed, gaze flicking between us like he was watching something unravel that he couldn’t stop.
Aveline nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
She didn’t look at Malric when she spoke again. “You have many questions,” she said coolly. “But I’ve eaten alone for years. If you want answers, you can wait.”
Malric’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t argue.
I ate. She watched. The tower hummed on.
And for the first time since we’d entered the Wyrdwood, I had a faint, terrifying certainty that nothing about this was accidental, and that whatever had begun here wouldn't let any of us leave unchanged.
Aveline
