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Good of you to ask about the fire, it’s superb. Incredibly warm and delightful. In fact, I think it is rather superior to even your arms.

Has there been movement at all from the dark army? In case you wondered, I curse you every day for volunteering to ward up the boundaries. Admit it, you do it out of ego.

I hardly fret over you, only from the moment I wake until the moment I fall asleep.

I better see your eyes soon. I better touch your skin in coming days. I better fall asleep in your arms before I forget what it means to touch you.

Until then.

My throattightened. These letters were sent between two lovers, no doubt, written during King Valandril’s war, the tyrannical vampire who tried to rule all of Terrea.

It felt intrusive to read them.

I could not stop.

Remind me to denounce the master seer when I return. Yes, fine. I’ll concede that adder stone is a powerful tool for healing bites. But answer me this, my love—where in the hell am I supposed to find an adder in the frosts?

A few cruel ones were caught in snares. I won’t say where in case this is intercepted.

You ought to know I never say your name, only every time I open my mouth. I look to the days when I reacquaint myself with your taste. I count the hours until I tangle my hands in your long hair. I yearn for the moment I am surrounded by the wild spirit of your heart.

Until then.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, an ache split through my chest, like a deep fissure carved down my heart.

I’ve no jests. Tensions are high. I need you. I need to know you are safe. I need to know you are real. I need you dressed in your fine things (no doubt forced by the hand of your mother), standing beneath the totems dangling from a satin wrapped bower. I need to don the dress Mam stitched so tirelessly.

I need to be yours, for I am spinning, like I am lost in the wild without you.Return to me and we will fight these battles side by side, joined as one.

Until then.

Forgive the briefness of this note, but more cruel ones were found. Never fear, their bones now line the trees, an offering to the goddess.

You are the wild, my love. Free, mysterious, powerful.

I don’t often take pride in knowing you are mine, only every moment of every day. You are my wildling, and I shall be with you soon.

Until then.

My breath caughtin my chest.Wildling. It had to be coincidence.

The door to my chamber opened and I shot to my feet, spilling the letters. With hasty movements, I scrambled to collect the missives.

“Kage?” Gwyn paused, a stack of tunics in her hands. Over her shoulder, the curious gaze of Asger found mine. Cy was there, a half-eaten crab apple in his hand. Gwyn set the tunics on the messy desk against my wall. “What is it?”

I swallowed and held up the letters. “I . . . I noticed something, but it makes little sense.”

Cy took another massive bite of his apple and shoved into my chamber. He scanned the pages, brows raised. “Ah, the pleasure letters. Excellent advice.”

“One of the lovers uses the word . . .” I hesitated. “Wildling.”

Gwyn drew in a sharp breath. Cy ceasedhis chewing.

Asger frowned as always. “It’s probably nothing.” He spoke the words, but I wondered if he said it to convince himself.

My head spun in a fog. Too many thoughts, too many theories, too many missing pieces. I rubbed a new ache building in my skull, the same pain that always latched onto my head whenever I tried to break through the haze of the past.

“Kage,” Asger said, gripping my shoulder. “You need to stop trying to force memories. The degeneration is quickening each time you do.”