2
MAX
The fire crackles into the darkness of the meadows. Unlike the red sand and oppressive heat of the Shadowlands, the Woodland Kingdom is full of different fauna with sweeping emerald leaves, bright crepe, lemon, and eggplant-colored flowers. Trees so tall that the tops cannot be seen from the ground, reach high to the sky, and the scent of pine is heavy in the cold air.
My fingers trail the thick blades of grass, mud soft under my feet, as I inhale. The coolness burns my lungs, but I welcome it.
Digging my heels in, I listen to the hum of insects, the soft chatter of Fae, and the distant growl of something prowling. It’s a noise I know intimately well. Kaden is out there, hunting, looking for nourishment to heal his wounds, and my companion keeps him safe.
Or rather, he keeps us safe. He directs him through the forest and away from our camp.
The flames jump higher, logs falling as sparks drift into the night. Like fireflies, they dance and I watch as they become one with the stars. Stars that seem so bright here, and I feel at once exhausted and overwhelmed.
The universe is large and the journey long. My fear of the fire is nothing compared to the dread in my gut as I think of what musthappen. How we must travel to an ancient Fae queen who can help us save Kaden. Of the absolute terror swirling in my mind.
What if we’re too late? What if I cannot save him?
Kaden, the Fae who took me, claimed me, pushed me and infuriated me, has become an anchor in life. He is my other half, the very reason I found my strength and embraced my darkness. He saw me in ways others never have, never shying away, but looking at like a Goddess To fail him—to lose him—is inconceivable.
Rubbing my breastbone, I focus on our bond. The burning ember that locks us together is weaker. Kaden is weaker—I can feel it. Time is not on our side and panic wells higher in my throat.
Everything is too much—this destiny, this world, and Griffin’s impending attack. And yet, all I can obsess over is my mate.
The smile he wears when I fight him and I’ve won. The way his eyes trail my form when he thinks I’m not looking. The way he says my name—both a curse and a whisper.
I would fight the Gods, tarnish their name, burn their temples to ruin, if it meant keeping Kaden mine. And yet, I’m stuck. I need to move, I need to help him, but I’m trapped.
Everything is heavy, and my hope is dwindling with each passing second we wait.
A cup hovers in my eyesight and I blink. Dry, tired eyes look up into Reid’s equally exhausted face as he sits. Hand outstretched, a small smile lights up his youthful face. But he’s as drained as I feel. Worry lines his brow, and the weight of what might happen sits on his shoulders like a hard sack.
“Wine.” He swirls the cup. “Your favorite kind too.”
I don’t deserve it. Not after snapping at him. Reid is too kind—too good for such a rebuttal.
Taking the cup, I don’t sip from it. Everything has tasted like bitter heartbreak and ash since we’ve begun this travel and I know, this will not taste any different.
Reid takes a large gulp, bumping my shoulder as I just stare at it. “You need to drink something. You heard Baris.”
A flare of indignation flickers to life at his name. My fatherdisregarded my wants, commanded the soldiers—mysoldiers, and made me leave my mate to the woods. Logically, it was best for us, but I cannot let it go.
Kaden should feed from me.It’s selfish and stupid, but only I should sustain him.
“Just because he thinks he knows what’s best, does not make it accurate.”
“I mean, he’s pretty old.” Reid shrugs slowly. “And your life is tied to Kaden’s,” he mumbles softly. “If you perish because you won’t drink or eat, then he will. No matter what he feeds on in the woods. If you die, he will. Don’t do that to him.”
Gods dammit.He’s right, of course.
Begrudgingly, I take the smallest sip to his pleasure. The lightness of the red wine soaks into my parched tongue and I take a larger sip again. It’s dry and sweet, fruit from the Shadowlands that I’ve grown to appreciate. It tastes like home and greedily, I drink it all.
Reid hands me his cup. “Baris probably wanted something healthier, but right now, wine is the best option.”
Snorting, I sip again, but stop myself from consuming it all. He’s not wrong. But the wine is dulling the incessant churning in my gut. I’m running against time and I don’t know when it will expire. “I’m sorry,” I apologize.
His jaw clenches, a trait he shares with his brother. “For, what?”
Bumping his shoulder, I sigh. “I know you would never leave him.”
