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“No. You can’t,” she rasped. Her heartbeat quickened, threatening another firestorm while the warning spark of embers lit her palm.Please, don’t start again. Not again.

“I’ll rip his starsdamned head off.”

“Rowlen, no.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“I can’t stand to see you like this any longer.” Rowlen’s voice rose. “You need to leave him before it’s too late.”

Before he kills you.She could interpret his tone. And he was right.

“I know,” she breathed. “I need a little more time.”

Rowlen stiffened, crossing his arms in front of his chest, disturbing the fine navy fabric. “More time for what? YouknowI will help you.”

Of course he would. He always had.

From the moment they met, Rowlen had taken care of her. Living in crates and wearing rags, she spent years as an orphaned faeling running through the city streets. Rowlen and his family were well off and his mother was of a noble bloodline. They wisely invested her inheritance in building an even bigger empire, leaving their son to want for nothing for the rest of his life.

And one rainy afternoon, he caught a streak of white hair dashing into the bushes of his father’s estate, only to find a dirty and starving female, much the same age as himself, hiding within. It was only a matter of time before he found her an apartment, helped her acquire a living. Lavished her with necessities until she refused not one more gift other than his gracious friendship.

Now the stakes were higher. And she wouldn’t chance the opportunity for Kaine to lay devastation upon Rowlen—or his family.

“And what if news of you aiding me reaches Kaine? Your father’s business will be in ruins… No, I can handle this myself. I need a few more days. Then I’m done. I’ll be out.” Alora gently grabbed his wrists as nausea formed in her gut, realizing the wounds she had caused. “Rowlen. I’m sorry…”

But his face was soft when he gazed down at his hands. Almost as if he had forgotten.

Before she could say anything, pure glistening light glowed from his hands, revealing the secret they were bonded by.

Where the bleeding and blackened edges of peeled blistering skin had been, now was restored perfectly smooth.

She rubbed over his ringless fingers. Grinning and rotating his palms to inspect for any lingering wounds. His abilities had always amazed her; he was gifted with impressive healing magic.

“Don’t be sorry.” Rowlen brushed his hands through his golden hair. “I don’t like this, Alora. He could do this to you again, and next time, you might not walk out alive.” He carefully took her wrist and examined it. “Let me heal this, at least?”

The white glow began to beam, but Alora tugged her arm away.

“Leave it. Let it be the proof I’ll need when I leave him. Others need to see what he has done to me.”

There,in Rhidian Forest, on the edge of something that could easily turn final, it was only the flash of her blade and the whistling of his sharpened steel that served to remind her of what was pretend and what was reality.

Alora positioned her sword and aimed for the soft flesh and dip below Rowlen’s neck.

With impeccable focus, her blackened boots slowly cross-stepped across the mossy forest floor, still damp from the morning thunderstorm. Each footfall was maliciously measured, allowing her to maneuver in a half circle that Rowlen defensively mirrored.

The true reason for today’s rebellion.

To train with Kaine’s rightful suspicion—him—Rowlen.

The only other male in her life. The only one who cared.

Kaine didn’t approve of most of the things Alora wished to do. But thisespeciallywas one that he would never allow. Never anything that she could potentially use against him. And magic? That went without question.

He knew what she was—an outlawed Marked One as deemed by High King Magnelis—and forbade her from using her powers. To protect himself from certain death if anyone learned of her power, he would deny ever knowing. Even harboring the identity of a Marked One, a fugitive, rendered a painful death that the High King’s army would happily enact.

It’s happened before.Alora pictured the symbol etched in the tree and shivered.

One of the earliest memories of her abuse was the day she confided in Kaine about her magic. He’d witness the evidence of it eventually. Impossible to hide, it was permanently illustrated on her upper arm. If she had a marriage bond with him one day, he would’ve discovered it anyway, and she had wished against holding him at risk of the High King’s pleasure.

‘Dammit Alora. How could you do this to me? To me!’Her mind filled with the memory. Kaine had pushed her away in terrified panic and paced the redwood floor of the manor’s servants’ kitchen.