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My face burned with fury. “Keep your mouth off my neck.”

“Would you prefer me to put it somewhere else on your body?”

“Why are you trying to infuriate me?”

“Because it’s fun, Little Butterfly. You should try it sometime.”

“Infuriate people?”

“Having fun.”

“Idohave fun. But not at the expense of others. I believe it’s calleddecency.”

“Darling,” he sighed, “you’re so good that I’m afraid you’re no good at all.”

I sulked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out, Little Butterfly,” he teased, leaning down to flick my nose. “Eventually.”

I threw my most scathing look in his direction, but he didn’t notice. A band of silver light fell over him, and his eyes drifted skyward. I followed them, curious to know what had captivated him up there. “What are you looking at?”

“The stars,” he said, his tone enigmatic. Apollo had such a remarkable way of being in the moment without having to try too hard. He could tell you to look at the stars mid-conversation, and you wouldn’t find it mawkish. You felt compelled to see the world through his eyes.

And indeed, a bright constellation glittered between the boughs, a spill of diamonds on a single patch of purple sky.

“But it’s not even dark yet,” I gasped, wide-eyed in wonder. I could not help but stargaze alongside him, something I didn’t do very often in Elora since the night sky there was always murky with gaslights and coal smoke from the factories.

“Maybe they’re looking after you,” Apollo murmured.

I straightened my neck and frowned at him. “What do you mean they’re looking after me?”

He met my eyes. His lips had already parted, but a sudden, reoccurring clip-clop coming from somewhere along the path ruined his answer.

My pulse picked up.Hoofbeats?

In an instant, Apollo slipped in front of me, one hand already at the handle of his sword, the other gripping my wrist behind his back.

“A rider?” I whispered.

Apollo shook his head.

Then I saw him—a centaur taller than any stallion galloping towards us. His equine skin was a fathomless midnight black, and his humanoid upper body was a deep mauve color, bare and flecked with blood. His angular face was strong and valiant, and his long, dark hair danced like silk ribbons in the air behind him.

I would be gushing in awe at his incomparable, outlandish beauty had my breath not caught in my throat from terror for what was dangling from his fist. A giant wolf’s head. The dismembered creature looked positively demonic, frozen mid-howl, jaws wide and bone-white, eyes glassy and wild, and its gray-black fur streaked with gore.

The centaur halted, rearing on his hind legs, and stared down between us with a gaze so penetrative that I felt it in the deepest parts of my existence.

But Apollo seemed to relax. He even released me from his grip and tipped his head in greeting.

“A human,” was all the centaur said to Apollo, his voice depthless.

“She’s mine,” Apollo declared.

I had to bite my tongue not to scoff at the sheer outrage of the claim, but the centaur cocked his head in some kind of understanding. “Don’t travel too close to the river,” he warned. “Boggarts have nested along the bank.”

Apollo nodded. “And the wolves?”

The centaur gestured with his free hand towards the other side of the forest. “They won’t get in your way as long as you don’t get into theirs. But be wary. They have recently appointed a new Alpha, and conflict, as I’m sure you know, makes creatures very unpredictable.”