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Unless that part had been an act to gain her trust. A way to appear less eager.

Her grandfather had warned her about the kith and their slippery schemes. And this betrayal of her trust was the last straw. Seph found her voice. “You told me your name was Marks.”

Seph’s words were met with silence, and the others fixed their gazes upon her, including Alder, whose eyes turned shrewd and sharp and full of warning.

“You mean to say that the mortal did not know who you are?” Serinbor asked, looking between the two of them. “This whole time?”

“Considering what is presently circulating about my person, I didn’t think it wise to tell her the truth. A willing prisoner is a far easier traveling companion—I trust you know this—and we will need the mortal if we are to learn anything about the coat.”

Seph’s temper flared white-hot. “You selfish ass—” She lunged for him with the idea of strangling him, not that she thought she had any chance of murdering the Weald Prince with her bare hands. No, she was driven by an instinctive sort of reflex, but without her weapon, her hands were all she had left.

Of course, she only made it two steps before one of the kith grabbed her arms and held her firmly back.

“How dare you!” Seph shouted, just as Serinbor’s command rang out with a sharp, “Bind her.”

Alder’s steely grays were the last thing Seph saw before a cloth sack was swiftly pulled over her head.

Prince Alder Marcus Tiridium Vetiver should have known his family was dead. When the enemy had taken him, when they had kept him and tortured him, he should have known then. In all honesty, hehadknown—what other reason could they have had for holding him except to threaten and destroy his family?—but he’d refused to give the idea any light, because that light would have exposed the darkness, and he couldn’t bear to see what lurked within. It would have consumed him. It kept trying to, even months and kingdoms away—it kept trying to drag him under.

And it was getting stronger.

Seeing his family there, nailed to the statue, he’d been unable to deny the truth. Daylight shone upon their fate whether he wanted to see it or not, and he’d almost succumbed to the darkness in that moment. In fact, he might’ve, had it not been for her.

For Josephine.

He didn’t know why that was, why she had this uncanny ability to hold his darkness at bay, but there was one thing hedidknow: he absolutelycould notthink any more about it. Being here, with Evora and Serinbor, and being reminded of his station had been the swift kick in the groin he’d needed.

This world was not safe for Josephine—hewasn’t safe for Josephine. She was furious with him, and it’d pained him to paint these last few days in this light, but he had no other choice. He knew Serinbor. Better than either man cared to admit. And if Serinbor didn’t believe Josephine necessary, he’d never permit her to come along. He’d never risk the safety of their people for a whim, especially not one of Alder’s—not anymore. And as strong and fiery as Josephine was, she would not survive the night, not alone. Alder would be damned before he let her blood coat his hands.

He was damned anyway.

He told himself he cared only for Rys. Because Rys would’ve wanted him to see Josephine to safety. While that was true, it wasn’t all of it. But if Serinbor suspected any preference or attachment, there was no telling how he might use her to get to Alder.

And that terrified Alder more than any other thing.

Alder fixed his gaze forward as they rode in silent procession out of the valley, past the burnt and broken remnants of his past and into a future only the Fates could see.

Thankfully, the rain did not resume, though the mist lingered like an ill portent. A visible shadow of what was to come. He didn’t recall the mist drifting so, but without his mother’s power to hold it back, it crept into these lands like the disease it was, and Alder knew it was only a matter of time before Weald succumbed as Light had done.

Serinbor had taken Alder’s and Josephine’s weapons and the satchel with the coat, and he led them on horseback deep into the ancient forest east of Asra Domm. He’d kept Alder at the center of their procession, with Evora riding immediately before Alder. Serinbor led the mounted charge, of course, and being that they were short on horses, Alder shared a saddle with Josephine.

Josephine swayed with the horse, her spine straight and head high. Her fury burned through her back into his chest. He could feel it in every ragged breath she took, in the rigid way she sat as if she were doing everything in her power not to touch him more than necessary.

Which irked him more than it should have.

The other irritating part was that he kept getting mouthfuls of her hair. It was everywhere, floating up in defiant clumps as it dried, despite the cloth sack over her head. Alder couldn’t seem to get away from it, and frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was doing it on purpose. Strangling him with her hair when her hands had failed to do the job.

Alder shook his head. He was thinking backward again when he needed to be thinking forward, when there was nothing behind him but pain.

He urged his horse a little faster to catch pace beside his cousin Evora. Unfortunately, the abrupt shift in speed pushed more of Josephine’s hair into his mouth and he choked before managing to spit it free.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Alder whispered to Evora once they were riding side by side.

His cousin cast him a sideways glance before her eyes narrowed on Serinbor’s back. “Velentis.”

Alder frowned. Velentis was a sanctuary from the ancient world, hidden by enchantments of old. There were whispers that the city provided refuge to the remnant of the Court of Light. It was said that once the mist and darkness had taken over Light’s land, forcing her survivors into exile, her people had discovered the lost underground city and taken residence there.

Alder had searched for it once, out of sheer curiosity, because unlike Josephine, he’d had all the time and resources in the world to explore anything he’d ever wanted.