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I scoffed, refusing to acknowledge the comment. Fear rocked me as Rook backed toward the Hollow. “But there’s still someone out for my family! What if you change before you find a cure and come for us?”

Rook was already shaking his head. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“But—”

“Liliwen, I’m not going to let it happen. I will not be the weapon that destroys your family.” He swallowed and looked down. “We are going to say goodbye, and I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago.”

His words hung between us.

A cure would take time. I had a feeling Rook was thinking of a much quicker and more efficient solution.

Rook smiled, though his eyes were dewy—filled with pain—and I knew it was a smile for me. Though Rook was right in front of me, I saw through him, all the way through the Hollow and into the castle. Into the room with the guillotine.

And the sticky blood coating the blade.

I’d had a moment of relief with Lysander.

But, seeing Rook back toward the Hollow, the hand that seemed to squeeze my guts until they ached returned.

No no no no no! my mind shouted, but nothing came out.

I just stood there, shaking my head like a fool.

I wasn’t prepared for another fixture in my life to depart, especially not so…

permanently. My hand settled on the garden gate.

“I’ll just… I’ll walk a little way with you.”

Rook wouldn’t even look at me as he retreated, shaking his head.

“Everard.”

Rook’s head snapped up; his eyes met mine with startling intensity.

I mouthed, ‘Please.’

A muscle clenched along Rook’s jaw, and he glanced back at the Hollow.

He’s going to refuse me , I thought. He’ll flee into the trees, and I’ll never learn how his story ends.

Despair tugged at the edges of my lips. I wanted to say goodbye, but my mouth was stuck in a trembling frown.

I looked away, hiding the oncoming tears.

The warmth of Rook’s hand found mine, resting on the garden gate.

“Just a little way,” he whispered.

***

Birdsong accompanied our steps, and Rook strode wordlessly beside me.

I stepped over toadstools, admiring their little red caps, and brushed aside moss dangling from a tree.

Had the Hollow always been so beautiful, and I’d never noticed?

It’s a shame I’d never come in here again; the Hollow had taken so many things from me.

My father…and Rook. In less time than I’d hoped, Rook halted beneath an aged ash.

He reached out, brushing a set of claw marks in the bark.

I glanced up, into the canopy. It seemed a lifetime ago that I’d climbed that tree and spit on the Hound.

“Liliwen.” Rook’s voice was softer than the birdsong above. He looked back the way we’d come.

Disregarding Rook’s hint, I recalled a tale from our childhood.

“Sometimes, when we were young, Lysander and I would come out and forage with our father, just so we might get away from Lottie.” I stooped and picked a nettle.

I waved it absently at Rook, not really looking at him.

Not wanting to see him telling me it was time to go home.

“One time, Lysander had an entire basket of nettle, and a blight badger leapt out. Scared him half to death.”

I dodged another of Rook’s glances.

“Anyway, we decided to head back. Lysander was so jumpy”—I laughed—“I tread on a branch, and I swear, he sent the entire basket of nettle into the canopy. We got the basket, but all our hard work remained in the branches.” I was quiet.

“We had to have cabbage soup for dinner. Lottie was furious.” Rook caught my arm.

Still, I refused to meet his eyes. Rook brought his hand to rest beneath my chin. With one finger, he turned my face.

“Liliwen,” Rook repeated, “you should turn back.” A quivering rage shot through me, and I swatted Rook’s hand away.

I wanted to shove him, to cry and shout in his face.

I’m a grown woman! You will not tell me what to do!

But, seeing Rook’s weary eyes, my animosity slipped away, melting into the mossy earth beneath our boots.

Guided by desire, I reached out and brushed a dark tress from Rook’s face.

He smiled, and his scar dimpled in that crooked, uneven way.

Standing on my toes, I tugged the front of Rook’s shirt.

He bent so easily toward me, as if the entire time he’d been fighting the very urge to do so.

Once again, our lips met in a polite kiss.

My grip on Rook’s collar tightened; I had no intention of being courteous.

I traced his lips, begged he open them for me.

Rook groaned and slipped his arms around me.

He held me so tight, I felt each finger clutching my ribs.

Time and consequence vanished. I did my best to memorize the way our arms felt, curled around one another.

If I might have anything in this world, let it be this. Forever.

“I should leave,” Rook breathed against my lips. “Run as fast as I can away from you.” I gripped his shirt tighter. “Tell me to go,” he whispered. “It will be easier.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” Rook said. “And I cannot bear it.”

This was not our ending.

I wouldn’t allow it.

Rook didn’t resist as I encouraged him to sit by the ash.

He leaned against the trunk, pulling me with him.

Lifting my dress, I settled in Rook’s lap, my knees resting in the soft moss.

I cupped his face, kissing him again. My thumb traced lazy circles along the scar.

Rook brought his hand to rest at the nape of my neck, keeping me close.

I couldn’t ignore how firm Rook was beneath his trousers.

In fact, I savoured it. I wiggled against him and delighted in the low moan that rose in his throat.

A branch snapped, somewhere deep in the Hollow.

In Rook’s lap, I stilled.

“Whatever it is, it wouldn’t interfere with me,” Rook mumbled. His hand slid down, between my legs and under the hem of my dress. He paused at the sheath wrapping my thigh, my knife tucked safely inside. “You’re not waiting until I’m in a compromising position to pull that on me, are you?”

“It was one time,” I mumbled through a kiss. “Get over it.”

Rook teased aside my undergarments, sending my stomach somersaulting.

I wanted Rook terribly, and his fingers slipped effortlessly inside me.

He groaned, longing to join them. I moved up and down on Rook’s fingers, releasing soft moans against his ear.

There was a freedom, being in the arms of the beast that governed the Hollow.

For the first time, I was blissfully unaware of the horrors.

Leaning my head back, Rook placed delicate kisses along my throat.

Teasing my sleeve down my shoulder, he carried kisses along my chest and twirled his tongue around the nipple that spilled out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something lurking behind a far-off trunk—a figure that stood out.

I fought the hazy bliss and focused, trying to make sense of the shape against the trees.

A faint, green glow kissed the surrounding trunks.

My blood chilled as I locked on the mysterious creature, peering around the trunk.

Realizing I’d seen it, the creature’s eyes widened. I sucked in a panicked breath.

Watcher!

“Roo—”

A high-pitched wail buried my warning. The Watcher moved lightning fast; I was torn from Rook and thrown back. Tearing the knife from my thigh, I leapt up.

Two Rooks stood before me.

One used his body to shield me, his arms spread, ready to catch anything that might come for me. The other was a few paces away. Sort of hunched, the Rook that wasn’t Rook wore a vile grin. It shifted on its feet, head swivelling to track me each time I hid behind Rook’s outstretched arms.

“Mimicry,” Rook muttered. “Don’t let it grab you.” I saw Rook’s arms, spread in front of me, and I doubted anything might breach them.

“Don’t let it grab you,” the Watcher-turned-Rook mocked. It chilled me, how closely it resembled Rook’s voice. Fleeing sideways, the Watcher looked so much like a spider as it climbed a tree and disappeared into the canopy.

Leaves and twigs reigned down. Rook hissed, “Run!”

Too late.

The Watcher landed in front of us, kicking up a cloud of leaves and twigs.

Smelling of rotting compost, it was a caricature of Rook.

As if an artist had molded Rook in clay, giving him evil, exaggerated features.

Shoving me aside, Rook lunged at the beast. It feinted and ducked, snatching my ankle as it went.

“Oof!” I hit the ground and the Watcher dragged me.

Shrubs and bracken shredded my arms as the Watcher sprinted through the Hollow.

With great difficulty, I curled up and slashed the Watcher’s hand.

A squeal rang out—like the screams that carried from Ruven’s farm on slaughtering day.

I cut again, this time severing multiple fingers.

The Watcher let go and rounded on me—the imitation of Rook’s face exploded into an enormous mouth.

I couldn’t count the layers of teeth, endless rows carrying deep into the belly of the creature.

I raised my blade, ready to plunge it into the Watcher's throat.

I didn’t get the chance.

A howl thundered through the trunks, and like the billowing of swift storm clouds, the Hound burst from the shadows.

The Watcher threw up a hand, and a snarling snout bit it clean off.

The Hound struck again, sinking its teeth into the Watcher’s neck.

Blood sprayed, and I clambered back, avoiding the splattering viscera.

The Watcher was a ragdoll in the Hound’s jaws, offering no resistance as the Hound threw it into the dirt.

Pitched wails battered me as the Watcher disappeared behind the Hound’s hulking body.