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E very time Valda opened her eyes to darkness, her heart clenched in fear, convinced she had been blinded again. But then, Cerberus would appear. The small feline would press her head against Valda’s face, her yellow eyes steady and reassuring as she settled on Valda’s chest.

The loud purring vibrations against her breast soothed her, yet the tears still found their way down her cheeks.

For months now, it had become her nightly routine to search for a way to reach Maris. But every attempt ended the same—an impenetrable wall barring her path. She had begged the gods to grant her an audience with Maris, prayed for some loophole that would allow her to slip through. But there was nothing.

In the darkness and suffocating silence, she called out to Maris.

There was never an answer.

The days were easier, though the sickness lingered. She busied herself by traveling with Isen, distracting her mind as best as she could. Yet, whenever the nausea struck, her thoughts inevitably turned to Maris. She pushed those feelings down, burying them in the void within her chest.

The emptiness consumed her.

Though Isen offered words of comfort, Valda couldn’t shake the gnawing thought: did Maris feel as hollow and miserable as she did ?

The ride to Caliban, the city nearest to Umbriel, was filled with strategy and planning. At first, Valda dominated the conversation, outlining their next steps while Isen listened intently. Their goal was simple: to settle in the city and find as many defected soldiers as possible. They would build a new resistance, letting the world know their queen was still alive—albeit in hiding.

The first month was spent recruiting. They scoured every corner for rogue soldiers, many of whom were overwhelmed with emotion at seeing her alive.

Their queen. Hurt, broken, and sick, but alive.

Some fell to their knees in reverence, but Valda refused to allow it. The era of kings and queens being seen as divine creatures was over. She was as human as they were.

She suffered, just like them.

In the days that followed, they set up camps across Umbriel. Farther south, in an unforgiving landscape where no one dared venture, Valda, Isen, and a small group of Skylian defectors made camp far from Titania City. The environment was brutal—scorching during the day and freezing at night.

In the evenings, Valda often crept out of her tent, vomited her anxiety and returned to her cot, feeling no better. The frigid night air just made her miss her mate more.

She wondered how Maris was doing. Was she well? Did she feel this unbearable emptiness?

Every night, Valda called out to her, praying Maris would finally listen and stop turning away, stop blocking the bond that tethered them.

In her torturous dreams, she always asked the same questions: Can I find you?

Are you well?

Her voice dissolved into suffocating silence.

I miss you.

She would hear phantom footsteps retreating into the void.

I miss you.

Frustration twisted her insides. She gritted her teeth.

I miss you…

Valda would wake in the suffocating darkness of her tent, her chest heaving, the horrible sound of men’s snores drifting in from outside as Cerberus lay curled at her feet.

Footsteps outside always stirred her, dragging her from her restlessness. Yet each time she investigated, it was only Isen, tending the fire at the center of their camp.

“You’re sick,” Isen muttered, feeding another log to the flames .

“It won’t go away,” Valda said. “It’s been over a month. Why am I still sick?”

“I can’t answer that.” Isen glanced at her. “Have you been able to contact her?”

“She keeps avoiding me. She blocks our bond except at night.”

Isen twitched and turned his attention away from the fire. “You can contact her in the evening?”

“Sometimes. I see her silhouette, fragments of her within the shadows.”

“That’s good then. She is lowering her guard.”

“But I can’t talk to her,” Valda snapped, running her hands through her hair. “She doesn’t listen.”

“Maybe there’s a block within you as well?” Isen suggested, arching a brow.

Valda frowned. “Why would I block myself from her?”

“Anger can create walls,” Isen said. “Maybe there’s something you don’t want to face. Something you’re too angry to remember.”

Valda swallowed hard and rubbed her chest. Anger wasn’t a stranger in her heart. It was always there, permanent and bubbling. Then came Maris, and the anger dimmed until it was nothing more than a whisper…

“If she lets her guard down at night,” Isen continued, “you might reach her in her dreams. I believe you can speak to her that way. She might think it’s a dream, but it’s something.”

“Is it really possible? Each night I try to and—”

“Your souls are connected,” Isen interrupted. “It’s possible.”

“Do you do it with Melvian?”

“I don’t need to. I already know what she’s feeling. Right now, she misses me.” He grinned mischievously. “If you know what I mean.”

Valda pursed her lips, turning her gaze to the fire.

“Use that bond to your advantage,” Isen said, standing and placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Go to her. She won’t say no.”

“But she won’t say yes either,” Valda whispered as if telling a secret, she wished the crackling and snapping of the burning wood would swallow her into the cold night.

Isen squeezed her shoulder, his expression unwavering. “She won’t say no,” he repeated before leaving her alone with her thoughts.

To sneak into Maris’s dreams would take a level of concentration Valda wasn’t sure she possessed.

But she would never know unless she tried.

** *

The second month dragged out in complete desolation. The cold Umbriel nights chilled Valda to her very bones. Each night she woke up gasping for air, shuddering in uncontained rage as her attempts to contact her lover and make her listen were unfruitful. Her skin burned with fever and her jaw tensed as the same phrase drowned her mind.

Abandoned.

Maris abandoned her.

She was alone, gathering the shattered pieces of her crown, reaching out to the few who still believed she was the rightful queen, regardless of if they were spies, regardless of if they were actually with her.

Her life was on the line every second of every day. And Maris was in New Agenor, being worshiped.

She was in fucking New Agenor, adored by gods know who.

A name clawed its way to the forefront of her mind.

Eyphah.

The thought of that woman laying a finger on her mate sent a wave of rage through Valda’s veins. Her skin burned, her blood roiled, the fury building until it was unbearable.

With a scream, a gust of wind blew from Valda’s palm into a soldier’s chest. The woman was sent flying a couple of feet back until she lay unconscious on the sand.

She was being too strong, and she was unleashing her anger on those who had nothing to do with it. But, damn it , that soldier reminded her of Eyphah, with her undercut and bigger figure.

Scoffing, Valda wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked away, ignoring the worried and confused gazes of her men. Her soldiers were petrified to spar with her—not knowing whether they feared injuring their queen or being hurt themselves. On the days when her furrowed brow refused to soften, they knew better than to provoke her.

Behind her, two soldiers hurried to gather the downed woman and woke her up as Valda slipped into her tent.

Inside, Isen raised his eyes from the letter he was reading and arched his blue brow. Stretching his neck, he tried to peer outside the tent before Valda released a huff.

“Is she all right?”

Valda bit the inside of her cheek and gave a curt nod .

Every day, she sat down with Isen to discuss strategies they would enforce. They needed spies so they could be informed of Arwin’s doing. Lasmeer being the most important one, since he fed them intelligence directly from Ophelia. Thankfully, he didn’t perish when delivering the letter to Kayden, who was still nowhere to be found. Yet, they needed more men. So, they placed groups of spies in Cressida and Titania, as well as small settlements on the northern edges of Umbriel.

It was in those small settlements, as she and Isen moved from place to place, she encountered what she was hoping not to see.

Vulcanians.

It was hard to miss them with their fur clothes and angry gazes. Their first encounter happened when Valda was moving to Cressida for supplies. Their meeting in the sandy plains was brief yet violent. It had been so long since she had felt blood on her hands, so long since her hands ached from delivering punches.

It wasn’t until Isen pulled her back that Valda realized what she had done. The ruthless woman who knew no boundary on the battlefield had resurfaced, tucking away the gentle queen that Maris had brought forward. She could see the fear in Isen’s eyes when he looked at her.

She wiped her bloody hands on her slacks and jumped back on her horse as her captain looked at her with a silent question.

“I am fine,” she said, lying and avoiding looking at Isen. “Let’s keep going.” Valda left the corpses of what used to be two female Vulcanians to rot under the sizzling heat of Umbriel’s sun.

Her arrival at Cressida was no longer a quiet event. Instead of hiding away as she did a month ago, she would acknowledge the knowing gazes of her people. Isen announced he would fetch what was needed and left her to make it to the inn. On her arrival, a room was prepared for her; nothing but the best for the real Skylian queen.

Valda stared at the large bed, just as Cerberus inspected it. Her cat always smelled around, jumped on the tables, beds, and chairs. She found a comfortable spot in the corner of the room, where she sat down and stared at Valda.

The glow of a candle barely illuminated the room. Valda turned to the large standing mirror, her gaze locking onto the reflection staring back at her.

The woman in the mirror wasn’t Valda.

That woman was undone, broken, and exhausted. Her hair hung in messy, blood-streaked tangles, matching the stains on her blouse, slacks, and boots. Her face was laced with fatigue and frustration. She looked older, harder, angrier. She was filthy—there was no doubt about that.

With a disgusted pout, she turned away, heading to the garderobe to clean herself.

She plunged her hands into the icy water of the bucket, scrubbing until the grime beneath her nails was gone. She splashed her face repeatedly, rubbing away the dirt and sweat clinging to her skin, and worked the blood from her hair with trembling fingers.

What would Maris say if she saw her like this?

Valda’s upper lip twitched at the thought of her mate. With a sigh, she patted her face and hands dry before heading to bed.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, she tugged off her worn-out boots, tossing them aside. Exhaustion weighed on her, and before she could think twice, she lay back, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her sword. The cold metal pressed against her palm, a sensation both familiar and grounding.

As tiredness consumed her, the grip on the sword tightened. Something felt… off. The weapon was heavy, its weight unfamiliar. It didn’t have the reassuring balance of the Heaven Sword’s handle.

Frowning, she glanced down and froze. In her hand was a regular blade.

Her breath hitched as her gaze traveled from the weapon to a pair of wide, petrified dark eyes staring back at her.

A man knelt before her, battered and bruised; a piece of cloth bound around his mouth. His wide, desperate eyes locked onto Valda’s, and he muffled something unintelligible.

“A shame really. To think I enlisted him myself.”

Valda frowned, her attention shifting to look up at Arwin. The General’s face looked younger, his hair still streaked with strands of dark color that she hadn’t seen in years.

“He’s a soldier in our army?” Valda asked, startled by the innocent, youthful lilt in her own voice.

“Well, not anymore,” Arwin said, running his fingers through his hair. “Listen, this is just a lesson, Valda. Nothing to think much of. Just slice his neck open and let him bleed out.”

“That’s it?” Valda asked, her frown deepening. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a trial? A court where my mother gives the verdict? How do we know he—”

“I’ve interrogated him thoroughly. He refuses to talk,” Arwin said, his voice clipped. “He’s keeping others—more of his people—away from me. He thought I wouldn’t go through with this.” Arwin shook his head in disapproval. “To protect the rest of his organization, he’s jeopardized the safety of our kingdom, your mother, and you.”

“But why didn’t you kill him when you found him?”

Arwin snarled, grabbing her elbow and yanking her closer. “Because your mother commanded me to teach you everything there is to know about ruling a kingdom,” he growled. “This is part of ruling a kingdom, Valda. Now, are you going to handle this, or will you be a weak ruler who lets others walk all over her?”

Valda looked down at the man as Arwin’s anger bled into her. She gripped the blade tighter, trying to steady her trembling hands, forcing herself to remain calm.

“Do you have any idea why you are here? Why are you tied up and kneeling before me?” she asked, her attention directed to the stranger.

The prisoner shook his head violently.

Valda turned her glare at Arwin, catching the faintest smirk creeping across his lips. “Arwin?”

“What can you expect from a traitor? Lies.”

The man’s eyes widened in shock, darting between Arwin and Valda.

“You were responsible for King Brontes. You are connected to the rogues at Umbriel desert.”

The prisoner shook his head furiously, his gaze pleading as he muffled something incoherent through the cloth.

Moving the blade to the side of his face, Valda made a swift, deliberate slice, severing the cloth around his mouth.

“I deny it! I would never! I was a faithful soldier!” The prisoner screamed, lowering himself closer to the ground, his attention on Valda. “I fought only to protect the Sky Kingdom and your father, your highness! I would rather kill myself than betray my kingdom!”

Valda flinched at the raw conviction in his eyes. Could he be telling the truth?

Her gaze shifted to Arwin, the man she trusted with her life, a man she thought of as a father. Could he lie to her? Why would he? What was the purpose of killing this one soldier?

“Liar!” Arwin roared. “How convenient it is to cry loyalty and beg for mercy when death stares you in the face. Did you do the same for our king? Did you help him, or did you stand there and watch him die? ”

Arwin let out a breathy laugh. “Valda, I was the one who brought your father’s body home. And this man? He stood there, frozen, not even lifting a hand to aid him. Why? Because he was there to make sure he didn’t survive,” Arwin muttered.

“How dare you!” the prisoner shouted, his voice hoarse as he turned to Valda. Lowering his head in desperation, he begged, “Please, Your Highness, I have a family—I have a daughter!”

Arwin pulled his sword, his eyes wide. “Kill him, Valda! This man deserves nothing! He dares to speak of a daughter—what about you?”

Valda’s jaw clenched as Arwin lashed at her. But her heart screamed for her to stop, to spare the man kneeling before her, pleading for his life.

As if sensing her hesitation, the prisoner shifted, struggling to sit upright as he cried out again. “I have a daughter! You’ve suffered the loss of your father—please, don’t let my daughter endure the same pain. Don’t make her suffer as you did. I beg you!”

Valda’s firm stance faltered as the grip on the dagger wavered. The weapon almost slipped from her hand. The man’s words struck something deep within her, something she thought she had buried a long time ago.

Her eyes darted to Arwin, seeking guidance.

The older man shook his head at her and growled. “Kill him! He is mocking you because he was responsible for your father’s death! Do not show mercy! He does not deserve it!”

“But Arwin… what about—”

“Kill him!”

“No, please! I am no traitor!”

“Valda, follow my orders!” Arwin bellowed, commanding.

The sword trembled in Valda’s grip as precious seconds slipped by. Follow orders, or let the man explain himself. It didn’t feel right. Something about this was wrong.

The surrounding chaos was deafening. The shouts of Arwin, the prisoner’s frantic pleas—it was too much.

Before she could decide, a brawny hand closed over hers, dragging her forward. The blade plunged into flesh.

Gasping, Valda looked down to see Arwin’s hand gripping hers, forcing the dagger deeper into the prisoner’s stomach. Blood seeped from the wound, soaking the man’s white silk shirt into a spreading stain.

Valda’s breath hitched before yanking her hand away as if the dagger was scorching hot .

What have I done?

“M-my mate… I—”

Valda’s jaw slackened. The man was mated? No. No, no!

“I’m sorry—” Before the words could fully escape, a sharp sting burned across her face. She cupped her cheek instinctively, turning wide-eyed to Arwin, whose bloodied hand clutched the hilt of his sword.

“Never apologize.” Arwin snapped as he unsheathed his sword from the scabbard and took a step towards the fallen man. Moving behind him, Arwin gripped his head with one hand, forcing it back.

“ Goddess Eris, accept my sacrifice, ” Arwin whispered, eerily calm.

The blade slashed across the man’s throat in one swift motion.

Valda flinched as blood sprayed, splattering her shirt and face. She clamped her eyes shut, her stomach twisting as she turned away. The sounds—the wet gurgle, the body collapsing to the ground, the pooling blood...

“What have you done?” She looked over at the mess, a darkness setting deep within her.

Arwin wiped his blade on the lifeless man’s clothes with unnerving nonchalance, letting out a weary sigh. “I killed a traitor. Clearly, you weren’t finishing the job yourself.”

He spat on the corpse before sliding his sword back into its scabbard.

“A stab to the stomach?” he scoffed. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“That man had a family! He had a mate—they probably felt the snap, and—”

“And so did your father!” Arwin snapped.

Valda took a step back, shaking her head as she turned away. She couldn’t bear to look at him—or at the lifeless body on the ground.

Without another word, she ran toward the castle, her footsteps pounding against the sand. She ignored the curious stares of the soldiers as she passed, their murmurs barely registering over the storm raging in her mind. She couldn’t stand the sight of the blood pooling beneath the man’s neck, couldn’t stand the weight of what she had done.

She had killed a man.

A man who had begged for his life.

A Skylian soldier—one of her own.

Shame settled in, and Valda ran through the castle’s corridors. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, her stomach turning with self-disgust .

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined taking the life of someone pleading for mercy—a man with a family, a mate, a daughter.

Tripping, Valda fell just as she had made it into the main hall leading to the throne room. Cupping her stomach, she tried to steady her breathing. Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness.

Her mantra failed as she dropped to all four, her gaze falling to her warped reflection in the pristine, marble floor.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Valda sat on the ground, staring at her blood-soaked hands. A hiss escaped her lips as she furiously rubbed her palms against her linen pants.

“It won’t come off,” Valda murmured, her jaw trembling as tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t wipe it off. I thought…” Her voice broke into a sob. “Arwin said—”

She clutched fistfuls of her dark hair and buried her face between her knees. “I didn’t mean to. I was following orders. Gods…”

Darkness covered her like a veil. The same darkness that suffocated her months ago.

“Maris, I’m so sorry,” Valda whispered to the surrounding emptiness. “I’m so sorry…”

But no one was there to hear her.

“You murderer!”

The words sliced through the bitter silence like a blade. Valda froze, her breath catching in her throat as Maris’s voice echoed in the void.

A shiver ran down her spine as she slowly opened her eyes—and stared into Maris’s.

Their gazes locked.

This is a dream… isn’t it?

Maris’s eyes darkened, and Valda’s chest tightened as she felt the anger radiating from her mate. As much as she wanted to deny it, the truth clawed its way to the surface, igniting something primal inside her.

To be called a murderer to her face—to see those eyes, which once shimmered with love and desire, now stare at her with disgust—was unbearable.

Valda couldn’t take it.

“And you are a liar…”

Valda’s body quivered with the overwhelming urge to grab Maris, to grasp her neck and force her to listen. But one hand was already clutching the Heaven Sword, though she could have sworn she’d discarded it moments ago.

“You left!” Her hand released the sword with such violence that made Maris take a step back. No. She scared her. How was she supposed to get through her if she scared her .

But Maris knew she would never harm her…

But…

Valda closed her fist tightly. “You left me. Your mate, how could you?”

“You killed my father, my mother, you killed me !”

Opening her hands once more, she rubbed her palm harshly against her pants. “How can I make you understand that I never meant to hurt you?” Valda didn’t know. If she had known, she would’ve protected that man with her life.

“But you did! You did.”

She did… she hurt her more than anyone in this lifetime, and there was nothing she could do other than to say sorry until Maris could understand that she was telling the truth.

She sighed, glancing down at herself. The bloodstains were gone. The sword was back in its sheath, but her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Valda said again, her voice breaking.

“I don’t care. Everything I suffered—all of it—was because of you.”

They were both suffering right now, they were both being torn by being apart, and Maris couldn’t see that. After all the things she said that night. She promised she wouldn’t leave Valda. Now she was miles away.

“I never… I…” Valda faltered, the words lodging in her throat. She wanted to shout that it wasn’t her fault, that she wasn’t the one to blame. But it would be a lie.

Groaning, she pressed her knuckles against her throbbing forehead. “You said you would never leave. You told me—right before you went back to Oberon! You lied to me!”

“I had to,” Maris replied, her voice seeming to break. “I couldn’t stay, Valda. What would they think if I stayed with the one person responsible for their death?”

Valda raised her gaze, meeting Maris’s, pain and anger flickering in her eyes.

“I want to see you,” Maris continued softly, “but… I can’t be near you.”

That admission shattered something inside Valda.

With a snarl, she stepped forward, clutching Maris’s jaw with one hand, her grip firm as she pried her mouth open.

Maris’s eyes widened in fear, a soft, pained grunt escaping her lips.

Valda froze, her gaze lingering on those lips—lips she’d missed every night. A heat coiled low in her stomach, spreading to her thighs, igniting something primal within her.

Gods, she missed her .

Each night, she craved Maris with a fervor that burned through her. She wanted to wake up between her legs, Maris beneath her while tasting her, consuming her. And now, here she was, with Maris in her grasp—at her mercy, begging.

She wanted Maris to beg for her. She should beg for her.

“Will you lie to my face again if I ask you a question?” Valda asked, her eyes moving from those luscious lips to Maris’s gleaming eyes.

Gods…

Valda wasn’t sure what she wanted more: to see those beautiful blue eyes looking down at her as she feasted on Maris’s body, or to have Maris gazing up at her while kneeling between Valda’s legs.

The desire was too much.

How had she restrained herself for so long?

Now, with Maris finally here, within her reach, she could barely hold back. She was touching her, feeling her—and yet, she was still trying to be patient. So fucking patient.

Pressing her sweat-covered forehead to Maris’s, Valda held her in place, trying to control herself. She wanted nothing more than to throw Maris onto the bed, spread her legs, and taste every inch of her. She wanted to hear her mate scream her name.

How dare she make us suffer like this?

“And here I thought you hated me,” Valda murmured, her voice laced with heat. “But you’re desperate for me to touch you, aren’t you, Seashell?”

The faint, intoxicating scent of Maris filled her senses. A soft, keen moan escaped Maris’s lips, betraying her struggle to answer. Maris’s eyes fluttered shut, and Valda knew she wanted to escape her grasp—but not tonight. Tonight, she would claim her.

Her free hand snaked its way around Maris’s nape, her fingers threading the curly blue strands of hair. She pulled on those beautiful curls, moving her head back. Valda’s mouth hovered just over Maris’s, their breaths mingling. She didn’t kiss her—not yet. Instead, she pressed her nose to Maris’s temple, inhaling her familiar, sea-salt scent.

“I don’t hate you. I never did,” Maris whispered, her voice trembling.

Valda’s heart seemed to stop mid-beat. If Maris didn’t mean it, if she took those words back, it would shatter her.

She didn’t hate her?

Then why were they apart? Why was she torturing her by staying away?

Swallowing hard, Valda finally found her voice. “You don’t?” she asked, barely above a whisper .

Maris shook her head, her hand sliding to Valda’s forearm, squeezing it gently yet affectionately. “I don’t.”

She doesn’t hate me. She doesn’t hate me!

A wave of relief surged through Valda. Valda devoured the woman before her. As their mouths clashed together, she released her grip on Maris’s face. Valda wrapped her arms around her, lifting her effortlessly and dropping her onto the bed. Her mate was there with her, and she didn’t hate her.

And by the way Maris’s hooded eyes stared up at her as she pulled her blouse over her head, Valda knew Maris wanted her just as much.

By the Gods, Valda wanted her too.

It didn’t take long until her skilled mouth was over Maris’s chest, then her soft stomach, and finally between her legs. Three months was more than enough to set her desire ablaze. Rough hands hooked to the back of Maris’s knees, spreading her for her hungry eyes to devour. She nearly sobbed when Maris tugged her up, capturing her in a scorching, breathtaking kiss.

It was a dream, but it felt and tasted real. It felt as if her very soul was with Maris in that instant, as if the connection within them had pulled them together into the same realm.

Valda pulled back, only to settle herself between those supple thighs she adored with every fiber of her being.

As she exhaled her desire, she darted her tongue and gave Maris a long-awaited, broad lick to her cunt. Instantly, Valda felt Maris’s trembling hands in her hair, pulling roughly, her nails scraping her scalp. Maris was just as desperate as she was.

Good .

Because if Valda went another month without tasting her, she would dissolve into Umbriel’s sand.

“I miss you, Valda.”

A deep grunt escaped Valda as she continued her fervent assault, her movements unrelenting. She didn’t answer Maris’s words—didn’t say she missed her too.

She didn’t need to. Her actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

“Don’t ever stop.”

Valda wouldn’t. Not now, not ever. She would never stop desiring every inch of her, craving her scent, her taste, her touch .

Even as rage consumed her, even when she felt lost to herself, it was always Maris who brought her back. Maris was her tether, her salvation—the only one who could pull her from the darkness.

Valda’s grip tightened, her rough hands holding Maris in place as she used her tongue urgently. Maris’s cries grew louder, filling the space with desperation.

Then, suddenly, there was silence.

Valda opened her eyes to darkness. Her heart quickened, scared for a second that she was blind again. The moon’s soft light filtered through her tent. Her skin was covered in a faint sheen of sweat, while her hand was buried between her thighs, while her parted lips released soft pants and gasps wracked her entire body.

It felt so real. She could almost taste Maris on her lips, the memory vivid enough to make her pulse quicken. For just a fleeting moment, she’d brought her back. Her Maris.

If she opened enough to let her emotions flow, she would see her again. Isen was right…

And now she wondered if she could do that repeatedly.

“I miss you, Valda.”

Valda closed her eyes and pressed her head to the damp pillow. She could still hear Maris’s voice.

If she missed me so much, why won’t she let me come back?

Her teeth ground together in frustration. With a sudden burst of motion, Valda rose from the bed. Her naked, scar-covered body trembled as a raw, earth-shattering yell tore from her throat, reverberating through the tent. A violent gust of wind swirled around her, knocking over the nearby lantern and scattering loose papers.

If Maris wanted to play this game—to avoid her by day and yield to their bond only at night—Valda would do just that. But she wouldn’t make it easy.

If Maris missed her now, she’d make her miss her even more.

She’d make her beg.