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I swallow. “What look?”

“Don’t play with me.” He prowls closer, and the dappled sunlight flickers across the lines of his face. “You’ve always known what I am.”

“Knowing and understanding are two different things.”

“And what exactly do you understand?”

“You’ll still be alive when I’m dust beneath the earth.”

Realization flickers across his face, quickly followed by…grief. “Madinia.”

I force a smile. “I know who—and what—you are. I just…I suppose I let myself forget for a little while.”

His eyes search my face. “Why do I feel like I’ve lost something in this moment?”

I don’t know what to say. Turning, I mount my horse, nodding at Haldrik when he reappears. “We should get moving.”

To our left, I can see the Lacana mountains in the distance, towering above the forest. We’ll be skirting around the southern tip of the mountain range, but that’s as much as Calysian has told Haldrik and I—another point of contention between them.

Within hours, it’s clear we’re several days from crossing the foothills at the bottom of the range and moving east into Dracmire. And yet the further south we travel, the more my skin has prickled with an unwelcome awareness.

I wait until Haldrik is far enough ahead of us and then lower my voice, directing Hope close to Fox.

“Do you feel like you’re being watched?”

Calysian gives me a sharp nod. “I haven’t seen any sign of Vicana’s regiment, but her witch lived. It’s likely she sensed the second grimoire and Kyldare sent his soldiers south while you were recovering.”

There’s no blame in his words, but my stomach still twists.

“You didn’t kill the witch.”

“No.” His eyes meet mine. “When I saw you dying, I forgot she existed. I’m sure she crawled away somewhere and Kyldare found her.”

I suck in a sharp breath. This kind of stark honesty is new. It’s raw and vulnerable, and I don’t know what to do with it.

“Thank you.”

Haldrik waits for us at the next bend, his eyes darting between our faces as we approach, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “I never thought I’d see the day,” he marvels. “Madinia Farrow—”

“Quiet,” I snap, and Calysian raises one brow.

With a sniff, I nudge Hope into a trot, ignoring the twin male snorts behind me.

The days begin to blur together. Calysian turns strangely moody, switching from gazing at me with that intent, determined expression to ignoring me completely. The shift is subtle at first, so gradual I almost convince myself I’m imagining it. His silences grow longer. Heavier. When he does speak, his words are clipped, delivered with a cool efficiency that scrapes at the edge of my nerves.

The casual intimacy we’d fallen into disappears entirely.

A week after we found Haldrik, we camp in the shadow of a towering oak, its branches creaking in the wind. Haldrik builds the fire and I flick my hand at the branches and logs, my flames instantly engulfing the wood. He sends me an appreciative grin, but I turn my attention to Calysian.

He sits on the other side of the fire, sharpening his dagger with slow, methodical strokes. His eyes are distant, his attention on something far away.

I have a feeling I know what he’s thinking about, and I take a deep breath. “Calysian. Are you—”

His gaze snaps to mine, and the air between us seems to shift. His dark eyes gleam with something sharp and predatory, and my words wither on my tongue. Haldrik glances between us, his eyes wide, and I shake my head warningly at him.

The next day, it’s worse.

We ride side by side, but there’s an invisible wall between us. Calysian’s posture has turned straighter, stiffer, and even Fox seems to be restless, his ears twitching back as if reacting to something I can’t see.