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‘You didn’t want to follow your… friend?’

Hawthorne shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, showing a hint of that dimple beneath his beard. ‘You and I aren’t done.’

‘I thought I made it clear yesterday, we’revery muchdone.’

Her harsh words didn’t seem to faze him. In fact… there was a brightness to those silver eyes that hadn’t been there the day before.

‘What?’ she demanded, flicking her braid over her shoulder.

He leant in slowly, deliberately. ‘Admit it,’ he growled, his gaze dropping to her mouth. ‘You were jealous.’

Thea’s cheeks flamed and her body tensed instantly, involuntarily, infuriated and heated all at once. ‘No.’

Hawthorne’s laugh was rich and melodic, sending a pulse of longing straight to her core. ‘Gods, you’re stubborn,’ he said, his lips almost close enough to graze hers.

Thea could feel him everywhere, even though he hadn’t so much as touched her. She hated that she wanted him, even now, even amid all this mess, in the shadow of his betrayal. She hadn’t dared admit it to herself before, but… she fuckingmissedhim. She missed his voice and the ease of their conversations. She missed his mouth on hers, missed his hands and his body, missed the way he could unravel her so thoroughly.

He seemed to watch every subtle change in her expression as the conflict passed over her face. She had never been any good at masking her feelings – Wren had always told her so.

‘There’s nothing between Adrienne and me.’ He reached for her, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants and tugging her closer. ‘There hasn’t been for years.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, Princess.’

‘I don’t need to tell myself anything.’

‘No? Not even after you’ve dreamt of me night after night? Not after your hands have somehow found their way into your pants as you thought of me?’

Thea bit her lip to keep herself in check, willing her body to remain rigid. There was no way he could know those things. He was baiting her.

Those silver eyes surveyed her, seeing straight through any notion of a facade. ‘I knew from the moment I first kissed you that I’d never think of another woman again. That you were it for me. Despite everything, that hasn’t changed. Nor will it.’

Thea opened her mouth to argue, braced herself to shove his hands away, but a strange sound pierced the air, like something shooting through the forest —

‘Flare,’ Hawthorne said, his gaze snapping to the canopy, where beyond, a fiery red light carved through the sky.

‘What?’ Cal stumbled bleary-eyed from his tent, wincing at the cold.

‘Red flare,’ Hawthorne repeated. ‘It’s coming from the Wesford Road. A royal signal for help.’

Thea was already moving towards her mare, snatching up Hawthorne’s swords of Naarvian steel. ‘This had better not be a fucking trap you’ve set with your friends.’ She swung herself up into her saddle, urging her horse towards where the flare had come from. Hawthorne was already up on his stallion, close behind her.

She heard Kipp and Cal rush to hurry after them, but she was already cantering through the forest, to where the Wesford Road met the Aveum trade route, the dreaded scent of burnt hair filling her nostrils.

When she came upon the road, she saw it immediately.

A beautiful carriage in Harenth’s royal colours, surrounded by whorls of darkness, and three shadow wraiths clawing at its doors —

Steel sang as Thea unsheathed the former Warsword’s blades.

‘Thea,’ Hawthorne shouted. ‘Unchain me! I’m no use like this —’

But there wasn’t time, even if she wanted to release him. All the guards were dead and the wraiths had broken through the window. A shriek sounded from within.

‘Princess Jasira!’ Thea gasped, lunging towards the carriage.

‘Thea!’ Hawthorne roared. ‘Let me loose!’