“The High Court won’t agree to any of this,” I said.
His plan wasn’t concrete. It didn’t make any sense, but still he spoke as if it did—as if he wanted it to.
Lioran kissed me on the head. “They won’t have a choice but to agree to it.”
He had resigned himself to this fate. I couldn’t allow it. It didn’t matter what I had to say—he was insistent.
“The stars willed it, and not even a king can undo their plans.” He studied me as if he was looking at me for the very last time.
Chapter 34
Gaia’s ears flicked as she made her way over the rocky terrain into Myrwood Grove.
We arrived too soon—the Grove was too close to the Heart.
An eerie hum rang through the desolate space—deep and frantic. My skin crawled with the sound. With each crescendo, nausea rolled through me until bitterness settled on my tongue. Threatening to linger.
Lioran said nothing, yet he flinched with the cascading sound. His breathing faltered
I gripped my bow, trembling as the wind thrashed against me. The quiver bounced at my back. It should have made me feel safe, protected, but it only made me feel desperate.
Gaia’s hooves crunched over debris—the land crumbling beneath us. The trees arched, their inky barren branches reached into the path.
Fyn’s blade caught a single ray of light that sparkled from the sun, before it faded again. His hand gripped the hilt. He rode beside me, without a single command from Lioran.
The Grove wailed.
Death had claimed it, but still it was alive.
“Lioran, do you hear that?” I called to him.
“Yes, try not to think on it.” His voice was flat, his words flawless—but I heard the fear through each carefully spoken word.
“What is it?”
Fyn leaned in toward me. “Some say it’s haunted by the souls that were lost here.”
“How…reassuring.”
“Yeah, it’s just a totally relaxing ride through the woods.” Fyn raised an eyebrow at me.
“Fyn. Quiet,” Lioran warned.
“I don’t hear you getting onto your wife,” Fyn called to him a little quieter. I smirked at Fyn’s words, but Lioran didn’t respond. His silence left me empty.
The air stilled unnaturally.
A loud rumble thundered once. Then twice.
The Grove roared—the sound pierced my ears. A black branched veered overhead—swiping over us.
The tree moved. On its own. Without my magic or Lioran’s.
The branches swung in a chaotic dance. Fyn’s hand jolted my back, pushing me into Gaia.
We wouldn’t make it through this—we wouldn’t leave. The Grove would claim us—one way or another. Air held in my lungs—sharp and painful as I clutched onto the saddle.
“Stay down,” Fyn warned. “I’ve got her,” he called to Lioran.
