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“Don’t be afraid,” he tells me again.

I sit up on my knees. I put my hand against his cheek. His skin is as smooth and cool as the hidden stone walls of the sea cave. His breath riffles against the inside of my wrist. I think of Alastair, watching me across the crowd at the bonfire. I think of Camille, the softness of her lips.

“I’m not afraid,” I say. And then I kiss him.

His mouth against mine is the night itself, a starless dark that speaks of ancient things, of the deep, strange lands beyond this world. His tongue sweeps roughly over mine. I taste the liquor on his lips. Everything begins to blur and blur and blur.

His touch makes me dizzy. Beneath me, the ground rocks like the swan boat did on the waves, a lullaby rhythm. I curl into his arms—my bridegroom. Therion grazes kisses against my cheeks, my throat. He breathes my name into my hair. He draws me close with a rustle of feathers.

I clasp the obsidian mirror in my hands, its weight heavy against my chest.

For one entire winter, I had pretended to fall asleep beside the fireplace each night so my brothers would carry me upstairs to bed. They had played along, Henry and Oberon, each taking turns. Pretending not to see the smile that twitched on my mouth, the way my lashes fluttered as I kept my eyes closed.

That is how it feels to be taken into Therion’s world. A slow, delirious not-quite-sleep.

Then, a crackling pierces through the quiet. It’s muted at first, like the sound of rain against my bedroom window. But swiftly, the noise grows louder, louder, louder. Becomes a rising storm, the aching groan of branches bowed fiercely by the wind. Then—thecrackof broken bone.

I open my eyes. The room is still hazy with smoke, but I see a figure moving toward me. They’re speaking—chanting—words running together like smudged ink. The same phrase, over and over.“Sennvh devlient, fume devlient. Sennvh devlient, fume devlient.”

“No!” Therion snarls, all bared teeth and fury, his claws flexing against my waist.

There’s a flash of brightness. The brazier flares, then darkens—its flames doused. Everything turns black. Therion howls, pained and furious; there’s a scrape of claws on stone, the snap of razored teeth.

I try to go to him, but something catches hold of my hair. The unbound length of it is twisted into a rope, and the chanting stranger is pulling, pulling me away from my wounded god. “Stop!” I cry, struggling against them. “Let me go!”

A chunk of stone comes away from the ceiling and topples down, shattering against the floor. Charred leaves from the brazier crush beneath my bare feet. I claw at the stranger, my fingers scrabbling against their shirtsleeve. A flare of light casts through the room, dazzling me as it shines into my eyes. I blink, seeing nothing but brightness. Then, with asnick, the grasp on my hair is loosened.

I stagger forward, caught in the tangle of my veil. An arm slides around my waist, catching me. A voice, familiar, whispers into my ear. “Stay still. I’m going to get you out.”

“Alastair?”

More rocks crash down around us. Alastair drags me out of their way. A fall of light captures my attacker, illuminating him. He’s a boy—older than me, but younger than my brothers—with a narrow-jawed face half-hidden by his golden hair. His shoulders are angular, knifelike, beneath his tailored shirt.

I can’t see Therion anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” I cry out to the stranger. “What do you want?”

Before the stranger can answer, Alastair lifts me into his arms. He turns swiftly and carries me out of the chamber. He’s stronger than I expected, muscles drawn taut as I try to get free. “Alastair, put me down! I have to stay with Therion.”

“I didn’t come all the way down here just to watch you be crushed to death,” he sneers.

Another cascade of rocks tears from the ceiling. Stones fall, heavy and shuddering. The air fills with dust. Alastair pulls me close, protectively, and he begins to run. He carries me through the salt mine, the beam from his flashlight bouncing erratically as it lights our path. He doesn’t glance back even once, doesn’t hesitate. Only goes forward.

Eventually, I see a stretch of sky. More rocks tumble down with a brutal crash. We hurry out into the night, away from the mine’s entrance and back onto the pier.

Alastair lowers me down near where the swan boat is still tethered. He’s breathing raggedly, sweat beaded at his temples, his hair full of dust. He cups a shaking hand against my cheek. “Lark.” There’s a hitch in his voice, a quaver of furious fear. “Lark, are you hurt?”

I stare at him, helpless with shock. He’s been so remote and cruel ever since the day when he thoroughly severed our friendship. When he made it clear I meant nothing to him. Now he’s saying my name with incongruous tenderness, when for so long he’s only ever called meLacrimosa, his mouth drawn into a sneer, like the syllables taste bitter.

“Alastair,” I rasp, my throat roughened from the smoke. “Who was that boy?”

“I had to cut your hair,” he says.

None of this makes sense. Beneath us, the pillars of the pier creak and groan. The wind has changed, rushing swiftly across the ocean, sending the waves into a frothing riot that crashes against the base of the cliffs. Sea spray fills the air. More chunks of rock fall down into the water. The swan boat is wrenched back and forth at the end of its straining rope.

I choke, gagging at the taste of bitter liquor that floods my mouth. My hand, weighted by the ring, feels senselessly heavy. Everything spins and blurs and I’m lost to thoughts of the scattered brazier, the strange chant, and Therion—vanished.

Alastair’s hands curve around my own. He prizes my fingers apart and pulls the obsidian mirror from my grasp. I shove myself upright, my heartbeat spiked with panic. “Give that back!”