Page 24

“So,” I say, my voice hoarse, “you’re the king.”

He closes his eyes briefly. “I was taken ten years ago. Captured. Imprisoned.”

“And now you’re not.”

“No.”

I cross my arms, more to keep steady than out of anger. “You could’ve told me.”

His gaze returns to me. There’s no apology in it, but something quieter. Regret, maybe.

“I was still piecing together my memories. I wanted to be sure of everything before I said anything.”

I huff. “That’s one hell of an answer, but I don’t blame you if you didn’t trust me, or still don’t. After what you’ve been through, I wouldn’t trust a stick.”

We stand there silently, surrounded by the ghost of steam and scorched leaves.

The King. Erik’s brother.

I let out a shaky breath. “Well, I guess we’re going the same way, then. Come on. Let’s get out of these woods before she changes her mind.”

The edgeof the forest breaks suddenly, like we’ve crossed some invisible line. The trees thin out, the ground softens beneath our feet, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I can see the sky.

It’s a dull gray, heavy with clouds, but it’s sky nonetheless—and it’s not dripping acid, so I’ll call that a win.

I glance at Griffin as we keep walking. He moves like he’s measuring every step, quiet and certain. Even out here, he doesn’t seem relieved. Just focused.

“Do you know where we are?” I ask, brushing a branch out of the way.

“I do,” he says, not hesitating. “We’re far from the palace, but if we keep moving, we’ll make it in two days.”

Two days. That feels both impossibly long and dangerously short.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Do you think she’ll tell Erik she saw you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His shoulders are broad and still, like he’s weighing something. When he speaks, his voice is low. “She won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“That wasn’t just any witch.” He glances sideways at me. “She’s old. Ancient. The sort that remembers the first blood spilled between our kinds.”

I shiver at the memory of her eyes, that ageless emptiness behind them.

“She could have killed me,” Griffin says simply. “If she’d wanted to, I’d be dead. She didn’t.”

“So, she let us go?”

He nods once. “Which means she won’t interfere. But she won’t help, either.”

I stare at the trail ahead, broken by brambles and twisted roots. “That’s comforting.”

Griffin almost smiles. Almost. “Didn’t say it would be easy.”

We walk in silence for a while. His presence is steady beside me, but every so often, I feel him looking. Just out of the corner of his eye, quick and quiet. Not possessive. Not protective. Just watching. Like he’s trying to remember me.

The way he focuses on me makes my heart feel strange. I don’t get butterflies in my stomach; I’m not that kind of girl. I make butterflies happen. But when Griffin walks next to me, his hand keeps brushing against mine with those thick, firm fingers, and I’m reminded of how he was able to encircle my entire waist.

Even as weak as he is, he was strong enough to handle all those shifters. I can only imagine what he’ll be like once he’s at full strength.