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“Servants’ entrance perhaps?” Gorem was smart enough to take a more circuitous route to avoid getting caught.

“No. He’s still in the castle.”

Confusion rippled over me. Why the hell would he linger here, knowing we would be searching for him?

Tavik sprinted up a staircase, then paused at the top to search for the scent. “This way.”

“The guest suites?” Fear laced through me. “Cerise!”

“She’s in the infirmary, remember?” Tavik continued down the hall, nose to the floor. Then, he halted, turning toward a familiar door.

Cerise’s room.

With a growl, Tavik nudged the door, which was already open, the frame cracked and splintered. Anger and terror washed over me as I took in the mess of Cerise’s rooms. Clothes strewn everywhere, the bedspread shredded, feathers from the pillows all over the floor…

Gorem had been looking for something.

“Here,” Tavik said, approaching the overturned bedside table. Elvira’s journals were sprawled on the floor with several pages torn loose. “His scent is all over these journals.”

“Wait,” I said. “Move closer to that page.”

Tavik obeyed, leaning down to give me the perfect view of the page on top.

It has been three months, and the Wolven Mage has finally given me his name: Silas. He claims to come from the royal family, but I don’t believe him.

Gods’ breath. Tavik’s form began to tremble as he realized it, too.

Silas had been King Nolan’s only son. He had vanished in the fae lands years ago and was presumed dead. But…

“If Silas was Cerise’s father,” Tavik said slowly, “then that makes her the true heir.”

And a target for someone seeking the throne. Someone like Gorem.

Terror flooded my mind. “Get to the infirmary. Now!”

Forty-Five

THE WITCH

Every inch of me ached with exhaustion. My body felt weighed down as if I’d been sleeping under a pile of bricks. Each muscle throbbed, and I groaned, trying to return to that blissful state of sleep where I felt no pain.

But once I was awake, I couldn’t ignore it. Gritting my teeth, I forced my eyes open. My vision was blurry, and it took a long moment to take in my surroundings. I frowned at the unfamiliar vaulted ceiling with beams built into the walls. Something sharp and acidic stung my nose, and rows of cots surrounded me.

I turned my head and found a brown-skinned female Mage with white hair and wrinkled skin mixing ingredients in a glass vial. She cast me a sidelong look, then smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Cerise.” Her voice was weathered, but strangely comforting.

I blinked at her. “Who are you?”

“My name is Dulsa, and I’m a healer. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Don’t push yourself.” She sniffed the glass vial in her hands, then offered it to me. “This will help with the pain.”

I eyed the translucent liquid warily. “What’s in it?”

Dulsa chuckled. “You are right to be cautious. Don’t worry, it’s only moonflower berries and pine root.”

My frown deepened. I’d never heard of moonflower berries. But Alaric trusted this Mage—his absence said as much. I knew in my bones that if he didn’t trust Dulsa, he would have been here with me himself.

I took the vial and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. It was surprisingly sweet, and the ache in my bones seemed to subside almost instantly.

My stomach let out a deafening growl, as if the tiny taste of liquid made me realize how ravenous I was.