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“I said now!” the captain barked. “This ends tonight.”

To her astonishment, the men obeyed, stamping out their torches against the dirt. The captain approached slowly, his hands visible and empty of weapons.

“Forgive me, mistress,” he said to her, his voice rough but sincere. “These men acted without orders.” He cast a disgusted look at the young soldier who had torched her trees. “Lord Trevain demanded tribute, yes, but this—” he gestured to the burning orchard, “—this was never sanctioned.”

She stared at him, disbelief warring with desperate hope. Behind her, she could sense Egon still poised to attack, still on the verge of transforming.

“My men have dishonored themselves,” the captain continued. “And me.”

She struggled to process the captain’s words through the haze of smoke and fear. Behind her, Egon’s ragged breathing continued, each exhale a rumbling growl that vibrated through the air between them.

“Your men burned our winter stores,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “They destroyed my orchard.”

The captain’s weathered face tightened with what might have been genuine regret. “And they will answer for it. But—” His gaze shifted to Egon’s massive body, menacing in the firelight. “We both know what happens next if I don’t return with some form of resolution.”

Lord Trevain would send more men, better armed, with orders to hunt the Beast that had threatened his soldiers.

“There must be consequences,” the captain continued, his voice dropping lower. “But I can offer you a choice.”

Something cold settled in her stomach. “What choice?”

“The orc leaves.” The captain’s eyes held hers, unflinching. “Tonight. He disappears back into the wilderness where he belongs, and in return, I give you my word that the village will remain unharmed.”

Her eyes closed in silent despair. One sacrifice to save everything else.

“And if he doesn’t?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Then I cannot control what happens next.” The captain glanced at his men, who stood watching with hands on sword hilts. “Lord Trevain fears nothing more than losing face. A Beast attacking his men? He’ll burn this entire village to the ground rather than appear weak.”

She turned to look at Egon. The rage in his eyes had dimmed somewhat, awareness seeping back into his gaze. He was hearing this. Understanding it.

“I need your answer,” the captain pressed.

The choice was clear. Painfully, brutally clear. Everything she had built here—her home, her place among these people, the fragile peace she had carved out for herself—weighed against Egon’s presence. Against the tenuous, newborn thing growing between them.

“He’ll go,” she said, the words like ash in her mouth.

CHAPTER 15

Egon watched the captain’s retreating back with a mixture of rage and resignation. The man’s offer was clear—leave, or the village would pay the price. Lyric’s orchard still smoldered, the charred remains of fruit trees a stark reminder of what could happen to the rest of her home.

“I have to go,” he said roughly. “There’s no other choice.”

She looked up at him, her face illuminated by the dying embers. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“Every moment I stay puts you in danger.” He clenched his fists, his Beast straining against his control. “I won’t be responsible for burning down everything you’ve built.”

She reached for his hand, her fingers sliding between his. “We should still seek out the wise woman.”

“We?” The word caught him off guard.

“Yes, we,” she said firmly. “I can’t stay here knowing what I know now about Lasseran, about what he’s planning, not if I can help.”

He shook his head. “Your home?—”

“Is just a place.” She gestured toward the damaged orchard. “They’ve already shown what they think of my claim to it.”

“You’d leave everything behind?” He studied her face, searching for doubt. “Your bees, your garden?—”