“That’s why you bound yourself to the forest. Not just to contain the King.”
“The King would have broken free eventually anyway. Someone else would have found a way to stop it, or the world would have burned.” I turn away, start walking again. The tunnel feels too close with her standing that near, too intimate. “I stayed because I deserved to. Because the people I killed died in a forest fire, and the least I could do was spend my life making sure no one else died the same way.”
“That’s not penance.” Her footsteps follow mine. “That’s punishment.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes.” Her hand catches my arm, stops me. Her grip is strong, her fingers warm against the bark-ridges scarring my skin. “Penance is what you do to make amends. Punishment is what you do to make yourself suffer. One of them requires you to eventually forgive yourself. The other doesn’t.”
I stare at her. This woman who came to kill me. This bounty hunter who’s watched me conduct murder with the same precision she uses to clean her blades. She’s standing in a tunnel of bones, telling me about forgiveness, and somehow it doesn’t feel absurd.
“I haven’t decided which one I’m doing.”
“Maybe it’s time you did.”
TWELVE
THAROS
The tunnel opens into a cavern I haven’t visited in years.
The bone hollows branch and fork throughout Briargrave’s depths, creating a network that predates the forest itself. This particular chamber sits beneath the outer reaches, far enough from the Heartgrove that the King’s influence is muted. The walls are smooth stone, worn by water that dried up centuries ago, and the ceiling rises high enough that I can stand straight.
“We can rest here.” I move to the far wall, put distance between us. “The Consortium won’t find the entrances. The forest has sealed them against anyone who doesn’t carry its mark.”
“And I’m with someone who carries its mark.” She doesn’t sit. Just stands in the center of the chamber, taking in the space with that assessing look I’m beginning to recognize. “Convenient.”
“Practical.”
“Same thing, in your world.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve spent so long making decisions based on necessity that I’ve forgotten how to make them any other way. The binding requires certain things. The forest requires certainthings. Everything else has been trimmed away, cut back like overgrown vegetation until only the essential remains.
“The Consortium hunters,” she says, moving to examine a section of wall where old bones have been pressed into the stone like decoration. “How long until they reach the Heartgrove?”
“Hours. Maybe less, depending on how fast they’re moving.” I settle against the wall, letting my body relax for the first time since she crossed the boundary. The respite won’t last long. “The Binding Breaker is slowing them down—it’s heavy, and the runes need constant attention. But once they breach the outer defenses...”
“Game over.” She traces a finger along a skull embedded in the stone, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You said the King feeds on violence. On vengeance. What happens if they bring that much bloodshed to the Heartgrove?”
“The King breaks free.” Saying it out loud makes it real. Makes it inevitable. “I’ve been containing it through the binding, using my will to keep it anchored. But will has limits. If the Consortium brings enough death, enough rage, enough of the emotions the King feeds on... my limits won’t matter. Nothing will.”
“So we stop them.”
I laugh. It sounds rusty. Wrong. “We?”
“Unless you have another army hidden somewhere in these tunnels.” She turns to face me, and the underground glow catches her face at an angle that makes her look carved from stone. “You can’t fight them alone. You just admitted the King nearly broke through with barely two dozen hunters in the forest. What happens when ten times that many arrive?”
“You’re proposing an alliance.” The word tastes strange in my mouth. “With the woman who came here to kill me.”
“Temporary alliance.” She crosses the chamber, stops nearer than she needs to. “You protect me from the forest. I helpyou eliminate the Consortium before they reach the Heartgrove. When it’s over, we can go back to trying to kill each other.”
“What makes you think you’d succeed?”
“I might not.” She shrugs, a casual gesture that doesn’t match the intensity in her gaze. “But right now, succeeding at killing you would mean failing at staying alive. The Consortium wants me dead too—I became a liability the moment I didn’t lead them straight to your location. And whatever’s in that Heartgrove won’t distinguish between bounty hunter and warden when it breaks free.”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
“You understand what you’re agreeing to.” I push off the wall, close the distance between us until I can feel the heat of her body, catch the scent that clings to her skin. “The forest won’t see you as an ally just because I do. Every thornpath, every vine, every root will be watching you. Waiting for you to show weakness. One moment of hesitation, one wrong step, and I might not be able to save you.”
