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“He’s dead. Regner killed him.” My lungs burn and I fight to take my next breath. “I watched his h-head—”

“Shh.” Calysian pulls me close. And for some reason, I don’t push him away. Instead, I allow him to press my head to his chest, the steady thump of his heart a warm comfort.

“I may not understand family,” he rumbles. “But I understand betrayal. I know the mark it leaves on you, the bitter taste that clings to the back of your throat.”

I tilt my head back to find him staring into the distance, his brows drawn.

“I know the myth of Calpharos,” I murmur. “They say it was your siblings who did this to you.”

He stiffens, and his eyes meet mine. Something dark paces behind them, waiting to be freed.

And then he blinks, and he’s Calysian once more. “I have heard this too. I learned of it just a few years ago. This kind of betrayal cuts deep. The centuries I have wandered, the feeling of that aching hole inside me where my memories and power should be…it seems it was all because I was a threat totheirpower.”

“Do you remember them?”

He shakes his head. “When I think of them, I feel a deep sense of dread. A knowledge that this is not all they took from me. When the Sorrowflies bit me, I remembered a woman who betrayed me to them. And I remembered the moment I made the decision to place pieces of my soul into the grimoires.” With a sigh, he shakes his head. “We need to continue moving.”

Hours later, we find the remains of Vicana’s regiment.

Calysian

Remains are scattered throughout the small clearing, organs and viscera strewn next to boots and cooking supplies.

“Whatever did this…it’s not the same predator that attacked the last regiment.”

“No.” That predator left only bones. “I can sense the grimoire close by.”

Madinia gives me a stiff nod. “We should leave the horses. They’ll make too much noise. But…not here.”

We find a clearing near another small pool of water, and I gratefully refill my flask, watching as Madinia does the same before urging her mare to drink. She’s unhappy at the thought of leaving the horses—truthfully, I am too. But bringing them close to Kyldare would be much more dangerous. He strikes me as the kind of man who would gleefully cut down both of our horses.

Besides, I can’t believe the baby seer would have told us to bring the horses if they were going to end up dead in this place. I felt no sense of malice from her.

No, that malice had come from her aunt.

Madinia nuzzles her mare’s face, her hand shaking as she gives her a final stroke.

It’s a tiny flicker of vulnerability, and I ruthlessly suppress the urge to pull her into my arms. I’m ignoring all of my instincts with this woman, forcing myself to allow her to come to me, time after time, as if she’s a wild animal I’m trying not to spook.

Leaving the horses, we make our way toward the grimoire. I can sense Madinia’s wariness, and she glances at me continually, as if waiting for me to suddenly strike her down.

Clenching my teeth, I allow it. For now.

Just minutes later, the insects fall quiet once more—a sharp, unnatural stillness coiling around us. Like a warning. Voices drift through the humid air, low and tense. I meet Madinia’s eyes, and she gives me a grim nod. Kyldare and his soldiers are lying in wait just around the bend.

My grimoire is so close, urging me to approach.

Madinia brushes by me, and I catch her arm. “I want you to wait here.”

She gives me that haughty look that makes me crazed.

I can’t help it. I take her mouth, swallowing her gasp.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I mutter. “There’s no need for you to come.”

“There is. I can’t tell you why, but I know I have to go with you.”

I can tell by the stubborn jut of her jaw and the hard glint in her eyes that she won’t be dissuaded from this. And truthfully, I’m torn between warring impulses. As much as I want to leave her behind, I also want her where I can see her.