Something irrevocable shifts between us.
Before, I was the fixed point he orbited, and we were bound by rules neither of us fully understood. I decided when to reach for him, when to let him close, when to retreat.
When he upset me, I could step away.
That balance is gone now. I’m no longer the only one capable of closing the distance.
A man denied his own body for that long will hunger for agency with frightening intensity. He doesn’t have to wait for my invitation to touch me anymore, and the thought fills my blood with fire.
Decades without physical contact must change a man forever, years without the simple ability to act.
Needs and cravings don’t fade when they’re denied. They fester.
I feel stripped of a safeguard I didn’t realize I was relying on, left bare in a way that unsettles me. Before, there had always been limits between us, invisible walls I could pretend kept me safe from whatever this is becoming.
I’m not blind to the danger. My ghost saved me in more ways than one, yes, but he’s not harmless. It may be him I need guarding against now—not out of malice, but because the depth of his need is an abyss I might fall into and never climb back out of.
He told me in no uncertain terms that I looked better in ruins, and warned me in a dream that he breaks the ones he loves. Somewhere beneath the surface, the Fae prince is stirring, and I don’t know if his fondness for me will be enough to keep him from destroying me, too.
Whatever happens with E now, it’s no longer something I can manage from a safe distance.
Chapter 26
Unclean Slates
MAX
The Bloodraven crest shines scarlet over the front door of the witch hut, the upside-down tree painted in dried blood over the wood. Nick traces the mark lovingly before pushing in, and we quickly search the premises. The small cabin is stocked with the bare minimum of nonperishable food. Wards are etched into the beams to keep out the Reds and mask the place from anyone but a Bloodraven witch.
E grabs a worn, knitted blanket from the bed and wraps it around his frame. The fabric disappears in his grip, vanishing inch by inch as he pulls it tight around his shoulders. The way the yarn dips and curves before it vanishes completely steals my breath.
I force myself to look away as Nick spreads the map across the square table in the raggedy kitchen, smoothing the creases with his palm.
Red lines spider toward the center of the Red Forest, thin at the edges, then growing thicker as they converge.
“The Red Forest has four distinct borders. To the north, there’s the Dark Sea,” Nick starts.
“An endless expanse of cold, deep waters. Full of things that don’t want to be found,” I add quickly. “We’re not heading north, that’s for sure.”
He drags his index finger east. “Wintermere’s glaciers feed the Red Forest’s rivers from the south-east, while the water from the Summerlands flows from the south-west.”
E’s fingertips leave shallow grooves in the parchment as he touches the western border. “And to the west, the Solar Cliffs.”
Nick nods. “Every river that runs through the Red Forest originates from one of those three kingdoms. They flow inward, widening as they go.”
We all study the red-inked channels.
“Why is the water red, though?” I ask. “If it comes from outside the Red Forest.”
“The mountains are full of iron. Also, hematite, clay, and copper,” E explains. “The water’s clear at the source, but it stains as it moves downhill. By the time it reaches the capital, it’s blood-red.”
Nick exhales through his nose. “Another one of yourinstincts, eh?”
E brushes off the accusation and traces one river as it thickens. “Every single channel appears to lead to the same place.”
Nick taps the dark knot at the center of the map. “Lorntre’s Hollow. The heart of the Red Forest. If we follow the rivers downstream, they’ll take us there. To the center of our power, the Lorntre tree.”
My brother’s voice trembles with something dangerously close to greed.
