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The words echo in my bones.

I can’t lose her. She’s all I have.

Gwyn. My love.

Gwyn? I shout into the fabric of my soul, into the thread tying us together, desperate for her to somehow hear me, to feel my desperation and lead me to her. I’m met with only silence. Still, I try again and again and again. I won’t let anything happen to you, little witch. Just… hold on. Wherever you are, I’m with you.

I step out of Vessaryn’s grip and rake my hands through my hair.

“Have you tried asking the trees, Avaline?” I ask.

Her shoulders curl inward. “They don’t know.”

My gaze fixes on Carver. “Do you think Rory…?”

“I’m sure she’ll try,” he says, glancing at Arkyn. “Could you portal me to the Shore of the Damned?”

Arkyn hesitates.

“Take him,” I say. “There’s no time to waste.”

Arkyn’s reluctance is evident in the slow withdrawal of his dagger, the jagged swipe he uses to open a gateway.

“Just… don’t do anything reckless,” he begs, stepping out of the solarium.

I’m glad he doesn’t wait for me to reply because there’s only one way forward.

The path is dangerous, but clear as any summer day.

“Vessaryn,” I say. “Can you restore your glamour?”

A furrow crinkles her brow. “I have enough potion left to get me through the ceremony… Why?”

“Because the wedding must go on.”

Avaline and Lettie protest at once.

But Vessaryn’s voice cuts through the noise: “He’ll kill you, King Riven.”

I hold her gaze. “Here’s hoping.”

Because if he comes for me, I’ll be ready.

Chapter 39

GWYN

I won’t let anything happen to you, little witch. Wherever you are, I’m with you.

Riven’s voice reverberates through me as I stare, wide-eyed and trembling, at the witch smirking at me through the bars of my cell. My subconscious clings to the sound of his voice, a shield against what’s coming. A lifeline made of a promise he’s made to me again and again:

I won’t let anything happen to you, little witch.

“You’ve been very naughty, Gwynnevere,” the matron says, tone disapproving as ever. It sends a chill down my spine. “Very, very naughty indeed. What am I going to do with you?”

I scramble back from the bars.

So does Lyrielle, crawling into the shadows and obscuring herself from view.