Rhion takes a position at the back of the pack, seemingly unwilling to let Lydia out of his sight. “Thank you,” she says quietly, after we’ve been walking awhile.
“For what?” Rhion asks.
“Saving Emmett.”
I don’t turn back to look, but Rhion lets out a disappointed sigh. “Of course. Anything—” He stops himself. I’m fairly certain he was just about to sayfor you.
“I didn’t need saving!” Emmett calls without turning around.
“You were about to be stabbed in the neck!” Rhion replies.
“Just say thank you, Em,” Lydia says.
“Thank you, Rhion,” Emmett groans, and Marion and I both stifle a laugh.
The spirit of the footbridge doesn’t demand payment for our return journey. I say thank you anyway, and that haunting voice pops into my head, all huffy this time, and says, “I have a sense of honor, you know.”
Emmett lingers a little too long and I know he’s asking about Ivy. When he exits, some of the anxiety has left his face, but hisshoulders are still tense. “It says it sent her back to the castle gardens.”
The woods turn from bright spring back to midnight autumn in a blink, leaving me shivering. I lost my cloak in the cottage, so Marion and I huddle together for the rest of the journey.
“I understand the button and the jewelry,” I say as we walk through the trees, “but why the lock of hair?”
Rhion fishes into his pocket and pulls it out. At first, I think it’s a trick of the moonlight, so I lean closer. The hair has gone white, completely leached of color.
I pull my own lock of hair from my pocket and it’s exactly the same.
“The forest likes to play tricks,” Rhion says. “My friend Lord Fernly’s hair is still white after a trip to the cabin in our youth. It’s best to provide a decoy.”
I can’t wait to never set foot in this forest again.
We don’t hear the screams until the castle is back in view, a glowing opalescent beacon in the dark.
Emmett doesn’t say a word, he just takes off running, suddenly in a full sprint. His boots crash through dried leaves, and he leaps over bushes and dodges trees until he’s gone from sight.
The rest of us follow, the high-pitched, terror-filled shrieks as our guide.
It isn’t difficult to find her. Emmett has beat us to it, but not by much.
Ivy is on the ground in the fetal position, rocking back and forth and whimpering. Emmett pulls her onto his lap and brushes her tangled hair away from her face.
“Shh,” he whispers. “You’re safe, you’re safe,” he says soothingly.
Ivy gasps, as if waking up, then begins sobbing anew. She reaches up and grabs his face with both her hands. “I thought I lost you,” she chokes out. “I thought I missed it.”
“Missed what, sweetheart?” Emmett asks, his eyes so full of longing and agony and love I feel almost guilty witnessing this moment.
“The life we’re supposed to have together.” Then she crushes her mouth to his. Emmett stiffens and then, as if giving up on some internal battle, he melts and kisses her back.
Chapter Nineteen
I pull back from the kiss, dizzy and disoriented. I cling to Emmett’s broad shoulders for purchase, and gasp when I see him fully.
“What happened?” I ask. Every part of him is covered in blood. It’s crusted in his hair, running in streaks down his face and splattered over his chain-mail shirt.
My head spins. Just a moment ago, I was in the castle, sobbing on the stairs, and now I’m here.
“What happened to you?” Emmett asks, his hazel eyes full of concern and focused solely on me.
