“The device is still in Vorak’s stronghold,” Rythar says. “Find it. Confiscate it. Bring it to the fortress, intact. No one else touches it.”
“It will be done,” Drenz says.
Rythar turns to the other warriors. “Bring order to the new section of the Green Reach. And find Vorak’s former mate.”
They bow as one.
He turns back to me, voice softer but no less intense. “Come.”
He doesn’t wait for me to follow. He knows I will. The mate bond is pulling us together like two burning suns in collision. He walks out of the clearing, the muscles in his back bunching with each step. The warriors part before him silently, not daring to look up. I follow, my heart beating so loud I can barely hear my own footsteps.
I can feel the crowd’s verdict forming before we’re even out of sight. The warlord reclaims his mate, the old order is restored. Iwant to tell them I walked into the Council’s hands with my eyes open. That I wasn’t fooled.
But Rythar moves too fast.
The instant we’re clear of the clearing, he swings me up against his chest and strides through the trees, ignoring the beaten paths. The jungle closes behind us, branches knitting together in a way that I know is deliberate. Rythar can use the whole forest to hide us from the rest of the world.
The fury still rolls off him. I don’t fight him, but I don’t cling, either. I keep my head high and let the wind whip my hair around my face, grateful it’s hiding the emotion.
He runs. I hold on. Being near him brings a heat that makes my skin tighten with need.
The sound of water grows louder until it drowns out everything else.
A final stand of ferns parts at his approach, and the world I look up at is a sheer cliff with a waterfall pouring over the edge. The mist rises in clouds. Rythar is surefooted as he carries me over wet rocks. He finds a narrow ledge behind the fall, nearly invisible until we’re right on it. I turn my face into his chest as he ducks through the edge of the curtain of water with me. The water is cool and refreshing.
Inside, the air is warm and still, and the ground is springy. A low blue moss glows underfoot, soft and strange—something I’ve never seen before. The cave goes back farther than I’d guessed. The smooth walls are dry once we’re out of the spray. Someone has hauled in furs, a low bed, a stash of food, and something that smells like cinnamon and fire.
He sets me down on my feet, his chest to my face. We’re alone. The world outside is just a roar of waterfall noise. I wipe the water dripping from my face.
For a second, neither of us moves.
He studies me, eyes flicking over every part of me—my torn robe, my face, my arms. I see the way his chest heaves, the barely checked violence in every line of his body.
I meet his stare and refuse to flinch. “Did you have to get me soaked?” I ask.
“It washed away any jungle toxins,” he says, eyes narrowing.
I think of the first time we bathed together. After he showed me some of the treetop catwalks. I open my mouth to say something, anything to cut the tension, but he comes at me fast. One second I’m standing, daring him to do something, and the next I’m hoisted up against the wall, his hands locked around my upper arms, his chest pinning me. Now we’re face-to-face.
“I told you to stay in the fortress.” His voice is shaking. Not from rage. From what came before the rage.
I glare back. “I did what I thought was right. The connection to you was muted. For far too long. It had to be the High Lord interfering. I thought he would kill you. I thought Sophia would die. Maybe she’s already dead.” I choke the words out as hot tears spill from my eyes. I’ve held in every emotion for days, and now it’s coming out.
“Sophia is clever. She hides. Even from the High Lord,” Rythar growls, but he goes still when he sees the tears. Like something inside him is breaking. "I told you what would happen if you put yourself between me and danger again."
My shoulders drop.Sophia is alive. Sophia is hiding.That's enough for now. But how I got here? The whole scheme? That’s not over, and we’re not safe until whoever did this pays for it. I hurry to explain. “Rythar—they brought more than your forged voice. They projected the High Lord. I knew there was something off. In your command center, when he appeared with Vorak, I felt him before the light finished forming. But this time, I felt nothing. They said it was a recording. I thought that waswhy I felt nothing, but I don’t know. Maybe it was the High Lord muting everything.”
Rythar breathes hard, muscles twitching in his cheek from whatever he’s holding back. “Either the High Lord moved against me,” he says slowly, “or someone forged his hologram. Someone who can affect the connections between us. I will make them pay.”
A sob escapes me. His grip loosens as I reach for him. I wrap my arms around his neck. I don't care that he's angry. I need him closer than this.
Rythar shoves his thigh between my legs. He’s pinning me in place, but it’s not in anger. His eyes burn, black and red and gold and wild. "You will never be away from me again," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word.
I shut my eyes and bury my face in his neck. “You hid me away, and they attacked to draw me out. You can’t keep me away forever.” My voice breaks.
He growls again as he pulls my arms above my head, holding them there with one hand. The other finds my chin, firm but careful, tilting my face up to his. Energy runs down my arms and through my body. Rythar looks at his arms and mine, eyes flashing wider, as if he can see it. His eyes flick to mine.
“I am your mate,” he says.
