Page 53

Egon fed another branch into the fire, watching the flames devour it. The night pressed in around their small camp, but his thoughts were darker still. Khorrek’s words echoed in his mind—Lasseran’s plans were more extensive than anyone in Norhaven realized. The High King wasn’t just building an army; he was planning to control everyone with the Beast Curse in their blood.

Across the fire, Lyric slept peacefully, her face softened in slumber. His chest tightened at the sight of her. A few days ago, he’d believed he could never have this—her trust, her touch, her heart. Now that he had them, the weight of his responsibilities felt heavier than ever.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.

He needed to get this information to his brothers. If Lasseran succeeded, the consequences would reach far beyond Norhaven’s borders. But returning meant taking Lyric from her home, from the life she’d built from nothing. He’d seen how the villagers relied on her, how she’d carved out a place for herself despite everything.

He shifted uncomfortably, his wounds from the fight with Khorrek still aching. He’d survived worse, but the timing was unfortunate. They needed to move quickly, before Khorrek reported back to his master. Although what he would report was another matter.

His gaze drifted back to Lyric. She’d chosen to come with him, chosen him over the safety of her cottage and her bees. But that had been before they knew the full scope of what they faced. Could he ask her to leave everything behind permanently? To face the dangers of Norhaven, a place that had never been kind to humans?

The fire crackled, sending sparks dancing upward. He watched them fade into the night sky, remembering the prayer he’d offered at the forgotten shrine. He’d asked for guidance, for a way to be useful. The Old Gods had answered with more than he’d dared hope for—they’d given him Lyric.

But perhaps this was their cruel joke. To give him everything he wanted, only to force him to choose between love and duty.

He tensed as a twig snapped behind him. His hand instinctively moved to his blade, but the familiar scent reached him before he could draw it.Lyric.His muscles relaxed, though the weight of his thoughts remained.

“You should be resting,” he said without turning, his voice low and rough.

She padded silently towards him anyway, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders against the night chill. “So should you. Your wounds need time to heal.”

He grunted, unwilling to admit how much the fight with Khorrek had taken from him. The other warrior had known exactlywhere to strike, had recognized his fighting style from the pits. That recognition had saved them both—had planted doubt in Khorrek’s mind about Lasseran’s true intentions.

She knelt beside him, studying his face in the firelight. “You’re brooding.”

“Planning,” he corrected, though his lips twitched at her directness.

Without warning, she rose and settled herself in his lap, her weight slight against his big body. He froze, still unaccustomed to such casual intimacy. Her fingers traced the scar that ran from his temple to his jaw, her touch feather-light.

“Planning looks an awful lot like torturing yourself,” she murmured, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was soft, comforting rather than demanding. His hands moved to her waist, steadying her as he returned the gesture with careful restraint. When she pulled back, her eyes reflected the dancing flames.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re trying to figure out how to protect me from all this.” Her hand settled over his heart. “But I’m already in it, Egon. I was in it the moment those men threatened my village.”

He sighed, his thumb tracing circles on her hip. “Lasseran is more dangerous than I realized. What Khorrek revealed?—”

“I know.” She cut him off gently. “You told me, remember? This isn’t something we can ignore, not if we want to protect the people we care about.” Her expression grew serious. “Your brothers need to know what’s happening. And Amara said I have a part to play in breaking the curse.”

His chest tightened as he looked at her, this remarkable woman who’d somehow chosen him despite everything. She deserved better than the chaos that followed him—deserved the peace she’d built for herself in that small village with her bees and her garden.

“Lyric, I…” His voice faltered. The words felt too large for his throat. “What I need to do—where I need to go—it’s dangerous. Norhaven isn’t kind to humans. And Lasseran’s forces may be hunting for us now.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Just watched him with those steady green eyes that seemed to see right through him.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” he finally admitted, the confession ripped from his mouth. “But I can’t ask you to abandon everything you’ve built.”

Her expression softened. She placed her palm against his cheek, her touch impossibly gentle against his scarred skin. “Then take me with you.”

He blinked, certain he’d misheard. “What?”

“Take me with you,” she repeated, her voice calm and sure. “To Norhaven. To your brothers. Wherever you need to go.”

The simplicity of her solution stunned him. All this time, he’d been torturing himself, believing he had to choose between duty and love. Between warning his brothers and protecting Lyric. And here she was, offering him both.

“But your home—your bees?—”

“Will still be there,” she finished for him. “The village will look after things until I return. And if I don’t…” She shrugged,but there was determination beneath the casual gesture. “I’ve started over before. I can do it again.”