Page 60 of The Crowned Queen

The forest’s voice threaded through the darkness, as familiar to Araya now as her own heartbeat. It surrounded her, cradling her consciousness with a familiarity that should have terrified her—except Araya somehow knew with utter certainty that it would not hurt her. Not unless she asked it to.

I do not wish to die, Araya answered.

They hurt you, the forest said, its words slow and uncertain. Cut you and bruise you. One day they will kill you. Why suffer?

Because— Araya trailed off, the thought too big to put into words. But here, she didn’t have to.

Serafina’s voice, kindness and fury in equal measure as she worked herself to the bone to help the poorest and weakest. Thorne’s quiet loyalty. Eilwen’s baby laughing.

And Loren.

The solid warmth of him at her back. The safety she felt in the circle of his arms. The quiet rise and fall of his chest under her cheek as his soft voice whispered children’s stories she’d never heard. The way his shadow curled around her shoulders, nestling into the curve of her neck. The love she could see in his bright green eyes when he looked down at her.

You sorrow?

I miss him, Araya answered. She hadn’t even realized she could weep here, silent tears rolling down cheeks she hadn’t felt a moment before. I want to see him again. If I die…I won’t.

The forest went very still.

The prince, it said at last. He is the reason you endure?

King now, Araya answered. My mate.

Silence spread through the darkness, deeper than before. The vast presence that held her shifted—a shudder going through it like a great weight had settled into place.

There are other fae here, Araya whispered into the silence. Fae who may want to…rest. Can you help them, too?

We cannot. The forest sighed, its voice distant. Humans poison our ground. Cut and burn our vines. If we could kill them all…

Araya shivered as the forest trailed off, the dark anger in its voice filling her with dread.

Not every human is evil, she whispered.

Elise’s face sprang to mind, the gentle healer who had found her extra blankets and taken extra care to make sure she was comfortable. Serafina was technically human—only a quarter fae. What would the forest think of her?

Some help the fae, she continued, willing it to understand.

The forest was quiet for a long moment. So long that Araya didn’t think it would speak again.

We see, it said at last. Wake now, little queen. You cannot stay.

The darkness cradling Araya thinned, the forest’s grip loosening. Araya’s breath caught, pain returning with awareness. The scrape of her linen shift against her healing burns. The stubborn rasp in the back of her throat.

It hurt to live.

Araya forced her eyes open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Bright daylight shone through the seams in the canvas overhead—another day passed. Whatever apprentice was on duty would come by soon with a bowl of broth or thin porridge, depending on how long she’d slept. If she was lucky, it would be Elise, and the tray would come with a cup of honeyed tea to wash it down⁠—

“Araya?”

Araya flinched, her head snapping toward the familiar voice.

Kai Sterling sat in a folding camp chair beside her cot, his hands knotted together in his lap. Gods—he looked like he hadn’t slept well in months, the dark circles under his eyes so deep they looked bruised.

“What are you doing here?” Araya spat. Her throat twinged, but she didn’t regret the sharp words. “Continuing your research?”

“No!” Kai’s eyes widened. “Well—yes, technically. On paper. But I wanted to come. To see how you were doing.”

Araya laughed, the brittle sound scraping her raw throat. “How do you think I’m doing?”