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“She’s sending a message. No one is safe. If she could spare a dreamcatcher for such a menial task, it means she has others. Plural. She’s saying she can hit us at any moment, probably hoping to scare us into doing something stupid.”

Blood drains from his face, and he finally sobers up long enough to really listen. “If she had an army of them, she’d just attack. An army of dreamcatchers crawling into the Dreaming…it would suck what’s left of our magic dry.”

“Exactly. She’s fucking with our minds because she’s not sure of her victory. She needs us to make the first move, and a bad one at that.”

“What should we do, then?” Doubt washes away his vile grin, and he rubs his forehead in a nervous manner. I’ve managed to get through to him.

I relax my hold on his shoulders. “We wait. We stop spreading ourselves thin and concentrate on the seeds. We concentrate on Nell. If she sprouts, Morrigan will have to fall back.”

His brows furrow. “How are you so sure of that?”

“I just am.”

I’m not sure at all, but otherwise, we’re doomed. I keep that part to myself.

“Morheim is weeks away. If we manage to hold Morrigan off until the ritual, we’ll get the chalice’s magic and enough strength to last until spring. That’ll give us plenty of time. We just need to be smart about it,” I add.

If I spell out exactly how fucked we are, with only three seeds and an army of dreamcatchers on the loose, he’s going to lash out, and I can’t afford for him to spiral out of control.

“And you will cut ties with Nell and let me train her as I see fit? For the King?” his voice cracks, and I nod in spite of the roil in my stomach.

“For the King.”

The air blows out of my lungs as the last hint of dusk drains from the night sky. A clear gesture to cut ties with Nell. Here goes.

The gym is empty but for her, the bane of my existence. Ever since the bet was made, that woman has been haunting my heart. First as a mere symbol of better days to come, second as an impossible puzzle, and now as the ultimate forbidden fruit.

I never expected her to take my world in strides, and now that she has, I can’t stop looking at her. I cross my arms out of habit and lean against the wall, catching a smile from surfacing on my face as I watch her sink bolt after bolt into the hay mannequin at the very back of the room.

The swirly black scar she drew over its heart makes it clear that she’s in fact hunting me, and I’m both delighted and terrified by the implications.

A long braid hangs at her back, knotted in the same fashion as the night I unraveled it. I close my eyes to rid myself of the memory and clear my throat to get her attention. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you want to become a huntress.”

She doesn’t stop, a hint of sweat shining on her forehead. “But I can’t, not without losing the bet, right?”

I push off the wall and thread deeper into the room. “Would you want to, if things were different?”

“I’m training, aren’t I?”

She is training, and seriously, too. But giving her pointers on how to reload faster is not why I’m here. “That’s not an answer.”

She cranks up the string with the lever without sparring me a glance. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been avoiding me, and I’ve been struggling to get a complete sentence out of you. I figured, since you’re too childish to acknowledge my existence, I should just do this.”

I almost dismiss her claim and build upon her insecurities that she’s nothing to me, but I can’t lie, and I’m not sure she’d believe me if I tried. She’s so sexy in her huntress uniform, calling me out for being the fucked-up coward that I am.

A huge part of me wants to hold her in my arms again, no matter the consequences, and the reasons for my visit scatter like ashes in the wind.

“I’m here now. I can handle a few complete sentences.”

She finally lets the crossbow fall at her side. “How good of you.” She hangs the weapon back on the wall and throws me a glance over her shoulder. “Why do you keep the mask on? It’s only us here, and I’ve already seen your eyes.”

“Eyes are mirrors of the soul. If I let you see them again, you could steal it away,” I answer playfully.

“What about my soul? Have you stolen it away?” she dead-pans.

You’re supposed to pick a fight with her, not flirt.

I clear my throat and force some ice back into my voice. “Don’t fool yourself, kitten. This isn’t some romantic fairytale. I’m the villain of your story.”