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I am going to lose her.

But the man, who looks so like Amyrah, changes everything. Chaos erupts throughout the clearing as he thwarts the Foremost’s plans, and the horrible beasts become a single, writhing mass on the platform.

I throw myself forward and cushion Amyrah’s fall. Her screams tear through her slight frame as I drag her away, away from the horror. Away to the safety of the woods.

I press a hand to her mouth, desperate to get her a safe distance from what was meant to be her execution. I hope the confusion of the moment works to my advantage, that no one notices us. She struggles in my arms, but my determination outmatches hers.

When we are out of earshot of the commotion, she manages to tear my fingers from her face. “Let me go!” she shrieks and pushes hard against me, catching herself before she hits the ground. Shoulders heaving, she scrambles to a sea of ferns and vomits. I run to her and lay a hand on her shoulder, but she twists away from my touch.

“Why did you do that?” she sobs, turning her frozen fire eyes on me.

Her fury hits me like a blow to the gut, and I recoil.

“W-why would you . . . wouldhe. . .”

A moan distorts her words as she wraps her arms around her knees and rocks back and forth.

I close my eyes and exhale slowly.She isn’t angry at me.A wave of relief tainted by a drop of guilt hits me.

Now, I understand. It was her father who took her place.

Crouching, I pull her away from the pile of sick. Her entire body tremors, but she obeys. I lean against a tree, and she curls up against my chest.

I have wanted to hold her from the moment I met her, but not like this.

Brushing hair wet with sweat and tears away from her face, I gently tuck her head beneath my chin and give her grief a place to land.

The shudders racking her body gradually begin to calm until it is just her warm breaths condensing on my neck and the rising and falling of both our chests together. My arms hold her secure. Her gift might protect her from the dark, but only I can shield her from the cold.

We sit like that for as long as I dare. But it can’t last forever. Even though I am afraid to break the spell, I know I must.

“Amyrah, we should keep moving. It isn’t safe for you here.”

She shakes her head violently.

I grit my teeth and grab her shoulders, peeling her away from my body and looking into her eyes. The necklace glints between us.

“I know nothing matters to you anymore—how could it?—but you have to listen to me. If you stay here and let Myrzeth or those beasts find you, what was your father’s sacrifice for?”

She blinks, freeing more tears to join the damp of her hair. Lip trembling, she nods.

I stand slowly, reaching to help her up, but she rises without my assistance. I pull my hand back, fighting down the hurt.

This moment is not about you, morvus.

When we’ve advanced only a few paces, however, her hand slips into mine.

We cut through the trees as fast as we can until the tinkling sound of water rises out of the shadows. The stream that leads past her cottage. A knot tightens in my gut. Maybe we should head in a different direction.

Amyrah surprises me, like she always does, and descends the banks to cross to their side of the brook without hesitation.

Crouching low, she cups water and splashes it onto her face. I follow her down and stand guard.

A noise disrupts the sameness of the babbling water. I wheel around, staring uselessly into the shadows.

The reeds along the bank’s edge shiver, and I hold my breath. What-ever this is, it is too small to be a kaligorva.

Amyrah stands and follows the direction of my gaze. A soft gasp parts her lips.