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“You must marry Lord Harcourt,” he whispered against my damp skin, his voice cracking. “Marry him. Be safe. Be happy.”

How can I be happy with anyone but you?I wanted to ask, but didn’t dare.

Let me come with you even though I am merely your friend, I wanted to plead, but I couldn’t.

“Bene—” It was all I had time to say as he pulled from me one last time and fled, soon disappearing out of sight. “Bene!” I screamed, those two syllables shattering on my tongue. Broken, just like my heart.

My hopes.

My dreams.

And as I turned to return to the Danburys’ veranda and found myself staring at Selina’s smug, rain-drenched face, I knew something else of mine would soon be broken beyond repair, too.

My reputation.

Chapter 22

Aurelia

Now

Iflicker in and out of consciousness, fighting to stay awake as I am spirited across mist-drenched mountains, glittering waterfalls, lush valleys, and fantastical forests alive with fairy lights. Drakara is just as beautiful as I always imagined it would be.

But it is difficult to appreciate its beauty.

Exhaustion seeps into my bones. My eyes ache from crying. My throat burns from screaming. I am tired—tired of fighting. Tired of being helpless.

And, most especially, tired of being a prisoner.

When dawn finally seeps across the horizon, the landscape abruptly changes, shifting from green to lifeless in the span of a single moment. Dry fields and woods choked with rot unfurl beneath me, leading us onward toward the dark fortress that looms ominously in the distance.

“Release me at once,” I demand for perhaps the fiftieth time since we first passed through the Door, infusing my voice with what venom I have left.

As ever, Malice ignores me. He does not speak. He does not so much as growl.

He simply flies us straight for that fortress and in through a large, arched opening located at the top of one of the many towers, carrying me into what seems like a room made for the coming and going of dragons. The entire space is composed of nothing more than open air and many more archways that ring the room, allowing for a perfect view of the skyline beyond. A single flight of stairs located in the very center leads downward and out of sight.

Before I can finish catching my bearings, Malice unceremoniously deposits me on the cold stone floor, on my stomach. As if I am little more than a parcel he has delivered to himself.

Biting back a groan, I push myself to a sitting position and then freeze as I find myself staring up into emerald eyes again. As I look at him, waiting to see what he intends to do next, he tilts his head to the side in near-perfect imitation of the look Bene gave me the first time we met as children. Finally, I see the family resemblance.

I bite back the peal of hysterical laughter threatening at the back of my throat.

“You cannot weave,” Malice observes, cool and straight to the point. When I open my mouth to claim otherwise, simply for the sake of being contrary, his look sharpens. “That was not a question.”

Without another word, he steps close and sinks into a crouch. While I am still reeling from his sudden nearness, his hand shoots forward like a striking viper to twitch back my skirt, revealing my left leg all the way to the knee. Ripped stocking, torn flesh, and dried blood greet us both, turning my stomach.

I jerk away from him and cover my leg once more. “Don’t touch me!”

Malice’s nostrils flare, as if he can smell something I cannot. “I will need to tend to the wound if you do not want it to fester, girl.” Jaw tightening, he adds, as if such words pain him, “I fear I am better at breaking things than fixing them. Earth weaves elude me.”

I lift my chin and repeat, “You will not touch me again, Lord Malice.”

The man stares at me. After a moment, his eyebrow arches. “Not even to carry you down the stairs? It is a long walk.”

“No,” I bite out through my clenched teeth. “I would rather tumble down every single flight of stairs than be held for a single moment longer by you.”

For the briefest moment, I could almost swear a smile flashes across his lips. But then the moment passes. His eyes turn hard.