The words slammed into her chest.
“No,” she gasped, pushing away from him. “Let go—”
“I’m just trying to—”
She couldn’t hear him anymore. The world blurred. Her vision tunneled. The bracelet throbbed with her pulse, trying to keep her magic contained. She didn’t want it included. It made her feel silenced in a whole new way, but she had to rely on it for everyone else.
Esther had wanted freedom more than anything.
She was beginning to understand the price of it.
Freedom meant choosing when to say no—and accepting that some people would hear no as a challenge instead of an answer. “Teren, please—”
A twig snapped.
A voice, cold and edged with steel, cut through the darkness.
“Take your hands off her.”
Esther didn’t have to turn. Didn’t have to breathe. She knew that voice. The words didn’t rescue her. Theyendedthe moment. That mattered more.
Teren released her immediately. “It’s not what it—”
Silver magic rippled like a warning.
And Esther calmed, knowing Nythir had arrived. She hated that relief came so easily—and loved it just the same. One day, she would learn how to protect herself without needing someone else to step between her and the world. Tonight was not that day.
21
Nythir
How to interrupt a bad situation: bring a rock, a bad attitude, and absolutely no patience.
Nythir had been sitting on a wagon axle, pretending to sharpen a knife and absolutely not watching the ward-thread that tracked Essie’s magic.
Until it spiked.
Not dangerously—just wrong. Fear compressed instead of flaring. A tight, jagged note in the ward-thread that didn’t belong to surprise or excitement. Nythir was already moving before he finished identifying it.
The forest swallowed him in long shadows.
He found a rock along the way. It fit nicely in his palm. He chose it deliberately. Heavy enough to end the situation. Light enough to stop short of something permanent. Violence was a tool, not an impulse—and tonight, it needed limits.
Probably.
All he knew was he couldn’t stab the guy without consequences—despite how much he wanted to.
He moved silently between the pines, silver magic weaving around his steps, until he reached the stream clearing.
He saw them instantly.
Her breath uneven, her eyes wide with fear. Teren was too close, forcibly holding her to him.
Something inside Nythir went very, very quiet.
Then very, very loud.
“Take your hands off her,” he said evenly. Calmly. Menacingly.
