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“The decay in Thorn Valley is worsening. It began long ago but the deterioration was gradual then, affecting the plants and crops. Now hostile thorns flourish, those that harm instead of shielding us. More animals are affected, turning violent. Magic once helped us contain the decay—now Mist Island denies support, ignoring our decline. Yet they expect us to continue guarding the border of our realm and the Iron Mountains,” he says harshly. “Your people have forgotten that they need us too. We are their source of information, their first defense. Should we fall—so will they.”

He is right but I don’t tell him, feeling a tug of loyalty. “What is causing the decay to worsen?”

“We don’t know. But since returning from the Iron Mountains, its pace has accelerated, even in the heart of our land—the Ancient Grove. Some believe we’re cursed by the gods.” Jin’s expression hardens. “Even if we are, I will find a way to end it. I won’t let my people suffer.”

“Why not ask for my help instead of forcing this deal upon me? Why not give me the choice?”

His gaze clouds. “You had a choice; you could have refused.”

“Did you want me to refuse?”

“I did not want to save the Prince of the Iron Mountains. He held you captive, he was the one I was saving you from. Why should I risk my people’s lives for him?” His jaw tightens. “I also feared that after we parted, you wouldn’t return. Mist Island has a way of keeping its people close, of stopping them from leaving. This gives you a reason not to forget me.”

“Even if I cursed you for it?”

“If that was what it took,” he says unrepentantly.

These confessions tilt me off balance, blunting my resentment. “What made you think I’d keep my word? You’ve told me, ‘promises are meaningless when coerced.’”

“You kept your word to the Prince of the Iron Mountains when you had far greater reason to break it. I wanted to find out if your promise to me meant as much as yours to him,” he says gravely.

“I keep my promises—those that matter.” I look away, knowing this isn’t enough, that he seeks more from me. It feels like I’ve closed a door I should have left open. And when he falls silent, regret pierces me for all that was left unspoken.

From the distant shores, lights glimmer. “Thorn Valley,” Jin says, his tone softening.

“I’m breaking the rules by coming,” I warn as we approach the pier. “I must return before dawn, else I’ll be missed. My people can’t know I’ve been here.”

“They won’t,” he promises. “Those who came with me to the Iron Mountains and know your face are my closest guards. They won’t speak of your presence, and will conceal your identity from the others.”

Several soldiers wait by the pier, securing the boat with rope. The copper etchings on their black leather armor gleam: crossed spears entwined with a rose and thorns, the same symbol as on Jin’s carriage when we first met.

He picks up his sword from the boat, the mahogany scabbard inlaid with jade—then helps me upon the pier, flanked by rows of oblong lanterns slung on wooden stands. Farther back, trees tower, copper veining their leaves, thorny vines wrapped around their trunks, some glinting red. Fireflies circle the grounds, hovering above the wildflowers. Despite the dark, the earth is strewn with the light of the living: clusters of glowing mushrooms, luminous dandelions, their frail seeds trailing in the air. A path leads toward a sprawling cluster of buildings ahead, with sloped moss-green roofs. The air smells of grass and rain—like Jin. There are no enchanted carriages here, the guards riding on shining horses that move like the wind, with gold manes and silver antlers.

Except on closer inspection, the grass is withering, many of the tree branches bare, shriveled leaves carpeting the earth. The stones of the path are pitted, the buildings discolored in parts, the tiles faded. Such wear is common in the Iron Mountains, yet jarring after growing accustomed to the shining perfection of my home.

“This is where I live with my uncle,” Jin tells me as we walk toward the manor.

A threatening growl punctures the stillness. As we halt, shadowy forms detach from the forest to gallop toward us, trampling the dandelions in their wake. Soldiers unsheathe their weapons, Jin drawing his sword.

“Stay back,” he warns as I reach for my dagger.

“I can help.” Though after these weeks at home, I’ve almost forgotten the clutch of terror, how it hardens one’s blood to ice.

A creature charges forward. A scream locks in my throat as I leap to the side, but more swell from ahead, the thud of their hooves like an eerie drumbeat. They are as large as the horses—with fiery eyes, pointed fangs, and bone-white antlers. Their bodies are streaked with veins like they’ve been turned inside out. As they close in on us, their antlers lengthen, sharp points weaving into crowns of spears.

At once, Jin crafts a shimmering shield around his warriors and us—the only one here with this ability. The nightmarish creatures slam against his barrier, gouging it with their antlers. His sword gleaming, Jin fights alongside his soldiers, while straining to maintain the shield. All the while, more monsters charge from the trees, striking the barrier again and again—until it breaks.

Several guards are flung to the ground at once, blood streaming from their wounds. One of the creatures lunges at a soldier near me, stabbing her with its antlers. An agonized shriek rings out, blood spilling from her gut. As I rush to her, the largest of these monsters swings to me, fangs glistening. I hurl my dagger at it, the blade sinking into its shoulder. Still the beast charges onward. As I grasp my magic, Jin leaps in front of me, shoving his blade between the creature’s antlers as it gnashes its fangs at his throat—

Magic erupts through me, flames surging from my palms toward the creature. The one attacking Jin rears back, fire sheathing it until it goes limp. In death, the creature’s antlers shrink, its fangs blunted, the reddish glow in its eyes dying out as it transforms back into one of Thorn Valley’s gentle horses.

Regret sears. What could have happened to this creature to change it so?

The monsters are fleeing, chased by my flames. The revolting scent of charred flesh crowds the air. Yet a sick triumph rears, that these monsters fled from me. Even after they’ve gone, I struggle to harness this roiling power. Jin grips my hands as I scramble to bind it again; I can almost hear Dian shouting at me to stop.

Except… the taste of magic is heady, vicious, and bright. It sinks deeper like a drug, rousing a euphoria I’m loath to dispel. As Jin’s grasp tightens, his power sweeps through me, cool and steady, forcing this magic into submission. With a wrench, I regain my hold over it, casting it away, leaving a hollow in its wake. Channeling the magic, I felt invulnerable… yet I was never really in control.

Closing my eyes, my head falls against Jin, as an inconvenient and dangerous reality emerges—that despite my resentment at being summoned to Thorn Valley, I need Jin as much as he needs me.