Page 105 of The Dead Queen

Tristan steps in, his voice calm but firm. “She knows full well what she’s doing.” He nods toward the trees, his eyes locking on mine.

Hunter wheels around to face him. “I wasn’t talking to you, Wolf!”

Tristan’s nostrils flare “She doesn’t need your permission.”

Hunter pulls back and punches Tristan in the jaw. Even without his gauntlets, the crack if impact is startling. Tristan stumbles back, and falls to the ground, his eyes wide in genuine shock.

“YOU!” Hunter yells. “I never should have helped you. We should have left you there in the cemetery to rot!”

Tristan rises calmly, brushing dust from his breeches. “You can come with us.”

“To Annwyn?” Hunter lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re our enemy, Wolf. Annwyn killed her grandmother!”

I push between them again, holding my ground. “They know what happened to her, Hunter.” I lift my chin, defiant. “This is my choice. I’m not some ignorant girl running away without reason.”

He glares at Tristan, then turns back to me.

“Grandmother,” I say softly, my voice pleading. “She’s the reason I’m going.”

He shakes his head slowly, in disbelief. “You can’t bring her back, Sienna.”

His words hit me harder than a crack to the jaw ever could. “I know that,” I whisper.

Hunter reaches for my hand. His voice is low, gentle. “When will this searching ever end? When will you be able to live your own life again?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head, banishing the grief that threatens to consume me, even after all these years.

“Is she truly worth sacrificing your own life for?”

And there it is, the ever-haunting question. I’ve lived my entire life in the shadow of death—Grandmother’s, the borderland soldiers’, even my mother’s. The truth is, I don’t know how to live without them. Without the grief that’s molded to my bones like a second skin. Without the dead, I am alone.

“Please,” he whispers. “Stay.”

Behind his eyes, I see all those years of pain and sadness. Of never truly belonging. We both know the feeling of isolation. Maybe that’s why we ended up here, at the edge of the world. Adrift. Lost.

Hunter’s face crumbles. “Is everything my fault?” he asks, barely audible.

The pain in his voice extinguishes my anger like water sizzling on hot coals. I put one of my filthy hands on his blood-smeared cheek. “Hunter, this isn’t because of you.”

His shoulders sag. “But everything is still in shambles.”

I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. We close our eyes and breathe each other in—the closeness, the intimacy we’ve shared. He will forever be a part of me. I know this as surely as I know my own name.

I stand on tiptoe and kiss him. He winces from the pain, but doesn’t pull away. His tears mix with mine, salty and devastating. When I draw back, he doesn’t stop me. He keeps his eyes closed, as if he can’t bear to watch me go.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the memory of his lips still lingering on mine.

Then I turn and run into the mountain forest, with the sound of heartbreak and carnage at my heels.

Chapter 31

The weeks spent traveling through Llwyn did nothing to prepare me for the brutal climb through the Spires. Trees twist up rocky paths slick with rain. In some places, the slopes are stripped bare by punishing winds. Most of the leaves have fallen now, and the bitter cold chafes at my exposed skin. Even the mud puddles are coated in a thin layer of ice. Autumn is truly gone now.

Tristan remains a mostly silent companion, like a dark shadow leading me through this miserable landscape. He spends his days scouting ahead and his nights squinting up at the moon through the branches.

The searing pain in my legs and chest has faded, though the first few days of climbing were agony. Now, over a week into our mountain crossing, I may not move with the Wolf’s grace, but at least I’m not slowing us down. Not much, anyway.

I reach for a branch to pull myself up a steep stretch of the path. It snaps in my hand, and I stumble—forward or upward, I can’t quite tell at this angle.