His chest rose and fell heavily, and wonder filled his expression. “Do you feel that?”
I shook my head, glancing at my hands as if they might give me a clue.
“My magic,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “It came back so suddenly, I couldn’t contain it. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
That was his power? He had mentioned being able to control lightning, but seeing it in action was an entirely different experience.
“But you’re okay?” I asked, my voice still laced with concern.
Zane straightened in his saddle, his grin spreading wide. “Betterthan okay. I have my power back—I can protect you properly now.” Relief radiated from his tone.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re all right,” I said, exhaling a shaky breath. “But why do you think your magic returned now?”
A furrow appeared between his eyebrows, and he shook his head. “I’m not sure. But things feel … familiar here.”
“Familiar?” I asked, confused.
He nodded. “Like home.”
Casting my gaze over the dark forest in front of us, I didn’t know how to make sense of that.
“Let’s keep going,” Zane urged, and I nodded.
We continued through the forest, the blackened trees surrounding us like silent sentinels. After only a few minutes, I noticed Zane’s gaze shifting to the forest floor. He seemed fascinated by the flowers, vines, and weeds that tangled together in a colorful tapestry beneath us.
“Huh,” he said, pointing to a pale yellow flower with perfectly round petals. “You have luna blossoms here, too?”
I frowned, looking at the unfamiliar bloom. “I’ve never seen that flower before,” I admitted, leaning closer. “Do you have them in your world?”
I let my magic trail along the forest floor, brushing against the plant’s energy. It felt new—bright, effervescent, and undeniably life-giving.
Zane’s brow furrowed as he studied me. “Yes, we do. Are you sure you’ve never seen it before?” He gestured to another patch of the same blossoms.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a small laugh. “Zane, I’m the Springprincess. I know my plant life, and I can assure you this one is new to me.”
He nodded, though he still looked thoughtful. Dropping the subject, he led the way forward, our horses trampling over bushes and low ground cover as they forged their own path.
Based on what my mother had told me, I knew we’d have to camp for the night before riding a half day to reach the Tree of Transformation. She had warned me repeatedly that it wasn’t safe to travel after dark in the Savage Lands.
And then there was the warning in the Wise Ones’ letter—the curse would “come for us” as soon as we set out for the Tree. I couldn’t shake the weight of that ominous prophecy.
A low growl rumbled through the sky, drawing my gaze upward. I peered through the tree canopy, my nerves prickling with unease.
Hmm, looks like rain.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, I heard the pitter-patter of droplets hitting leaves. As a Spring fae, I’d spent many afternoons in the rain gardening. I loved the smell of wet dirt, the cool drops falling on my face, the—
“Cover yourself! It burns!” Zane shouted.
I gasped as the first droplet landed on my uncovered arm. It stung—no, it burned.
The rain picked up, and a dozen more drops struck my skin, each one searing like fire. My horse reared, and before I could process what was happening, she bucked me off. I hit the ground flat on my back, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs. Struggling to catch my breath, I watched helplessly as my horse bolted, galloping back toward the Spring Court.
Two more droplets splattered onto my cheeks, sizzling as they made contact. The pain was excruciating. I screamed, clutching at my face, just as Zane threw himself on top of me. His body shielded me, creating a protective barrier from the sinister rain.
One moment, I was overwhelmed by the burning pain coursing through my exposed skin; the next, my focus shifted entirely. I found myself staring into Zane’s piercing blue eyes, the weight of his body grounding me. Suddenly, nothing hurt anymore.
Zane had his cloak pulled up over his head, creating a makeshift shield for us both. His forearms framed my face as he straddled my waist, carefully lifting himself onto his knees to ease his weight. He was, quite literally, a human tent—and I wasn’t complaining.
