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Unease ripples down my spine. “Do you… know anything else about her? The woman he was promised to?”

“All I know is that she was human and it’s said they were deeply in love.”

My chest tightens, and I feel like I can barely breathe as I gaze at the drawing of Prince Theron.

Could it be? Could he truly be my betrothed?

Closing my eyes, I remember my dream. He reaches for me as I’m falling. But as I struggle to recall anything else, no memories rush forth… only shadowed images that vanish like wisps of smoke as I try to hold onto them.

But what if my dream is real? What if I’m his?I gaze at the picture and trace my hand across the page.What if I’m the one he is looking for?

The sketchbook trembles in my hands, and I clutch it tighter, as if it could somehow anchor my swirling thoughts.

I can sense Ren’s gaze upon me. And when I finally lift my head, I see the same questions burning in his eyes that I cannot bring myself to voice.

For the first time, since leaving the tower, I have finally found something that could lead to the truth. But as Ren’s gaze holds mine, I feel so lost.

I have no idea who I truly am or who my heart truly belongs to.

CHAPTER 20

REN

As I gaze at the drawing of Prince Theron, jealousy twists like a blade in my chest. What if the Stag prince holds a place in her heart she can't yet remember? And even worse… what if the day comes when she does?"

“Prince Theron could be the key,” she whispers, “He might know who I am. This could be the answer I was looking for.”

I rest a hand on her forearm, offering support. Gods help me, as much as I want her to find the truth, I cannot help but hope that this regal, handsome, blue-eyed Stag Shifter Prince isn’t it.

Because if he is… if she truly is Prince Theron’s lost betrothed, then I may lose her.

I want her as my mate. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire existence. But what if she is already claimed by another?

After breakfast, Aelric and his warriors lead us to the edge of their territory, the weight of everything unspoken pressing hard on my chest. The forest around us is still as dark clouds loom overhead, promising rain.

When we reach the edge of the woods, Aelric turns to us. “Some of my warriors scented the Wolf again last night.”

Dread fills me. “How close?”

“Too close.” He looks at Rapunzel. “We took one of your dresses and laid a false trail northward. It should buy you some time to reach the river crossing safely.”

Aelric may have tried to woo my mate, frustrating me to no end, but he also helped me to keep her safe. Clenching my jaw, I dip my chin in a subtle bow. “Thank you for sheltering us and for… everything else.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by my discomfort. “Careful, Fox. Gratitude doesn’t suit your stubborn pride.” He claps my shoulder. “I wish you safe travels.”

His warriors approach Rapunzel, surrounding her like regal Stags paying worship to a forest goddess as they bid her goodbye. They even go as far as providing Finik with a veritable feast of fresh berries, cheese, and crackers for our journey. No doubt they are trying to gain her favor by showing her their care for him.

The little traitor stuffs his cheeks full of a tiny wedge of their cheese, and then shoves a few berries into his mouth as well, acting as though he’s been starved on our journey, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Aelric steps forward and takes her hand. “Farewell, sweet maiden.” He presses a kiss to the back of her knuckles, thenwinks at her. “Should you find that Foxes lose their charm, you are always welcome to return.”

My inner Fox bristles, and I loop a possessive arm around her waist.

Aelric laughs again, clearing amused by my jealousy. “You have nothing to worry about, my friend.” He grins. “It’s clear she has chosen you.”

His words should soothe me, but they don’t because she isn’t mine. Not truly. We haven’t performed the rites of binding. And now that she’s discovered a possible connection to Prince Theron, she may never be my mate.

Pushing down this dark thought, I shift. Fur replaces skin, claws take the place of fingers, and clarity narrows to raw instinct—the desperate need to run. To make for the river as fast as I can to get her to safety.