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“Just like I loathe this place and all these leaves and all this magic!” She rubbed at her cheeks and squeezed her eyes shut.

“And I loathe worrying about what’s to come and what I’m to do when I return to a place that doesn’t want me, and how on earth I’m meant to sever the two of us when I…

” Tears had welled up in her eyes, but they were as obstinate as she was, refusing to fall. “I loathe it all, you included!”

Roan swallowed hard, pain and magic prickling at his back. Fly , said the magic. Leave her and go .

But he fought the childish instinct and breathed through the fear instead because he had already been convinced by her, and he wouldn’t let her unconvince herself. “Certainly you don’t loathe me, Maewyn,” he said and let the words linger as he waited.

She did not immediately bite back that she indeed did, but her hand shot up and wiped at the single tear that had escaped.

“You dislike me, perhaps, and are annoyed by me, of course,” he went on carefully. “It’s doubtful you find me unattractive, though I suppose almost anything is possible, but loathe me? Truly hate me?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“But I don’t…I don’t loathe you,” he admitted.

“Oh, shut up, yes you do.”

“No, I don’t. I find you frustrating and impossible at times, but I don’t loathe you.

In fact, I like you quite a bit. More than I probably should and definitely more than you deserve, but your mind is delightfully sharp and your face is more pleasant to look at than the sum of all Tenhaef, and your company, even when you are simply existing silently in the same chamber, is the greatest comfort I can think of.

” The tautness in his chest wound tighter than it had ever been.

“Gods, Maewyn, I don’t actually find you frustrating at all, really. I think I may actually—”

“Stop.” She held up her hand, voice sharp, fingers trembling. Her eyes darted into the forest, and Roan’s followed.

The shadow of something large shifted through the trees, and the brush rustled.

The forest had otherwise gone quiet—no, devoid of life.

Everything had fled in the wake of whatever was there, dark magic filling up the space the critters and faelings had abandoned.

Something was drawing near, and it was hungry.

Roan’s back exploded in a plume of black as he swept Maewyn into his arms. She shrieked, but he spent no time explaining, simply scooping her up and taking off, breaking through the branches and into the sky.

Below them, something ran—something huge and shadowed.

“Was that a wolf?” Maewyn asked, breathless as she clung to him.

Roan did not look back, flying for the safety of the palace. “Not a normal one,” he gritted out—he wouldn’t risk her life by staying to discover what it truly was.

“No,” she whispered. “I think it was Ulric.”

Roan nearly dropped from the air, stuttering out a shocked sound as they faltered in the sky.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it, but that’s what I’ve been trying to say.” Her fingers curled around his neck as she pulled herself even closer. “I don’t trust him.”

“Ulric? Wha—why not?” Roan’s brow pinched as he caught another current, and they returned to smoother flying.

“You saw that place he keeps hidden. Everything there is dead.”

“The place I rescued you from? He rescued me from the very same one when I was small. He’s not hiding it—it’s simply leftover wastes from a time long ago.”

“What about those dull-eyed, enchanted friends of his who live in his manor?”

“They aren’t enchanted,” he sputtered. Though, he really never interacted much with them as Ulric gave Roan all of his attention when he visited.

They were just strange lost souls who had each befallen a tragedy and were unaccustomed to conversation.

Even after all these years… He shook his head.

“They’ve suffered in their pasts, and Ulric brought them in. ”

The wind whipped at Maewyn’s hair as they soared over the forest, her voice shouting over the sound. “Is that what he told you? What else did he say? About you and Jynquil? About the archfae?”

The questions were coming too fast and were too pointed. Roan could only grit his teeth and focus on the spires of the castle ahead, beating his wings hard. “We’ve spoken countless times over many years, Maewyn, and he has been my friend. One of the very few.”

“Well, you’re a very good friend to have—influential, powerful, and full of so much potential you could end the entire realm. You and Jynquil both.”

He grunted, spying his balcony as he dipped from the heights of the sky. “Ah, yes, of course, the only reason anyone would befriend me is my power.”

“That is not what I am saying, Roan.”

“But it is.” He jerked the two of them upright as he came to land on the stones just outside his bedchamber.

She gripped him tighter, but he only went on, “You are saying that Jyny gave up her marriage prospects and has pretended to join the priestesshood only to deceive me, and that Ulric’s gracious offering of his home is… what exactly?”

“I wish I knew, but there is something sinister about him,” she said, voice cracking. “I can tell he doesn’t want me here—”

“Only because I do not want you here.”

Maewyn sucked in a breath, mouth clamping shut. She scrambled out of his arms, and he wished he could simply hold on and keep her there, but he had to let her go.

“Wait. I mean because we have discussed—”

“You may think you are invincible, Prince Roan, but I will not stand by and watch you”—she swallowed hard and shook her head—“and watch this realm be destroyed. I have more reading to do.” She turned then and strode away, hands fisted at her sides and not even casting him one last scowl before she went.