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I smiled, satisfied he would swear to this. I thought he would stop there.

“And when this is done,” he continued, “I give my oath, I will heal Ayla by any means available.”

His oath didn’t mean my safety. His promise didn’t mean he would heal me. But I heard more security in his words than I felt facing the Brand alone. I looked to Rhett, curious if he heard a trick to Zayne’s words.

Rhett’s brow furrowed as he sorted through the assurances. “That’ll do,” he answered. He sighed. “Damn, this is messy.”

Surprising myself, I laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. Thiswasmessy. And I still hadn’t told either of them why I was on the run.

Yet here I was, with these two. It suddenly seemed ridiculous. My little chortle turned into a full belly laugh, and then tears rose to my eyes. I didn’t know what was funny, only that the whole situation was absurd.

Zayne lifted his cup. “Here’s to a very messy month,” he said dryly.

I could drink to that. I clapped my cup to his. For a moment, there was silence, almost friendly.

Rhett cleared his throat. He stood, taking a step toward Zayne. He towered over the seated prince. “Here’s what I propose,” he said. “Ayla stays at my apartment tonight.”

Zayne stood as well, meeting Rhett’s full height. Darkness gathered around Zayne, amplifying his bearing. “And what happens next?” he asked.

Rhett shrugged. “Ayla decides what she wants to do. You sail away, tomorrow at noon. And until then, you’re going to stay the fuck away from her,” he threatened.

Zayne’s shadows shifted. For a time, everything had seemed conversational. Rhett’s dark tone felt out of place in the vibrant fiddle bar.

“Fine,” Zayne answered. He tossed a few coins on the table and gave me one last, lingering look. “Tomorrow. Noon. That’s the longest I’ll wait.” With a turn, he faded into shadows, stepping into the night.

11| Hunger

Ayla

Soon I’d be a captive.

Technically, that wasn’t true. Zayne had shared his ash and had sworn an oath. I would be protected. I had access to a boat and a chance to find my Firewolf.

Even if I was branded, I had a choice.

A rotten choice.

I tossed, turning on Rhett’s couch. My legs pressed against Rimu, Rhett’s gigantic dog, and the beast snorted. The dog took up most of the couch, generating way too much heat. Shame he was so sweet. I scratched his head, and he rolled closer to me.

For the second night in a row, I struggled to sleep. I turned to my other side. Still nothing.

The streets below were finally quiet, nightlife giving way to the darkness before dawn.

Rhett and I had lingered at the fiddle bar, our dancing dampened, not quite the celebratory night we had always planned. My Brand dulled the brightness, and every time I tried to tell Rhett about what had happened at Mariana’s coronation ball, the truth burned in my throat. We celebrated the best we could.

Once we reached his home, I crashed on his couch. Drained from dancing, my buzz gave way to sleep. It wasn’t the type of sleep that lasted through the night.

With a sigh, I pushed the blanket away and went to Rhett’s washroom. A fae light turned on, dim and easy on the eyes. The shower had hot water. For such a simple apartment, Rhett enjoyed more luxuries than my palace bedroom.

And now, looking in that mirror, at the base of my neck… my Brand peeked through. Frightened, I tugged off my tunic—Zayne’stunic—and considered the Brand anew.

It had grown since I’d last checked. The gray skin once reduced to a freckle now stretched from the base of my neck to my belly button, extending to the edges of my breasts.

I swallowed and watched my throat bob, shifting blemished skin that wasn’t skin. Panic rose, belly to throat. “I’m inevitable,” the Brand seemed to say.

I pulled the tunic on before the sight made me sick. Some fucking choice.

From the sound of light snores, Rhett slept soundly in his bedroom. Rimu snorted loudly, like he wanted my company back on the couch.