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“I didn’t follow you,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the black and gold lines twisting down my arms. He reached out, his fingers lightly catching my wrist. His touch felt surprisingly warm against my cold skin. “You always head straight for the edge when you feel cornered, don’t you? As if leaning over the drop gives you control.”

So he was waiting for me, he knew I would escape somehow…

His thumb brushed the inner skin of my wrist, right over the dark ink, and my breath hitched.

“The mages are blind,” Mal whispered, leaning down until his voice was barely a breath against my ear. “They think because they can’t label your power, it doesn’t exist. But I felt the heat in the forest, Tauriel. You aren’t empty. You’re just waiting for something to light the fuse.”

Little Ember. Heat. Fuse. Was I some kind of bomb? Did he know what I was when even the mages didn’t?

He looked back into my eyes, his expression calm, steady, and entirely unbothered by the fog around us. I didn’t pull my hand away. I just met his stare, the cold sea air swirling around us as the silence settled between us.

TWELVE

The sea fog rolled heavier across the stone walkways, wrapping around the terrace like a damp curtain. Mal disappeared back into the grey gloom as quickly as he’d stepped out of it, leaving the taste of cold rain on my lips and my pulse racing fast and uneven against my ribs.

He knew something…I don’t know how but he was steps ahead of me and somehow steps ahead of the Great Fjörn and his gift of foresight…

I kept moving. My bare feet were completely numb against the freezing granite, the thin silk of the gown offering no protection against the wind cutting up from the cliffs. I knew I should turn around and head back to the medical wing—let Soren lock me behind his wards where it was safe. But my head was spinning, replaying the shattered fragments of the morning: Dellyn’s empty smile, the weight of the silver pool, and the fresh lines of black and gold ink humming with a persistent heat across my chest.

I turned the corner into a narrow colonnade overlooking the churning ocean below, only to pull up short.

Fuck.

The air changed instantly—turning cold and static. Caspian stood braced against the granite pillars, broad arms folded over his chest. His eyes locked onto my face before my foot even hit the tile.

His blue eyes cut through the mist. A brief flicker of relief crossed his face, gone so fast I thought I’d imagined it, replaced instantly by an icy, focused anger.

“You have a remarkable talent for putting yourself in danger, Princess,” Caspian said, his low voice carrying easily over the roar of the surf.

“I was taking a walk, Captain,” I replied, crossing my arms to hide the chill shaking my fingers. “I didn’t realize my lungs required a guard detail.”

“Your heart stopped three hours ago,” he said, taking a slow step forward, his boots making almost no sound on the stone. “The mages are turning the castle inside out looking for you. The high lords are already drafting council decrees to declare you unfit to hold the line. And you’re wandering around the cliffs, barefoot.”

“I am sick of being poked by mages!” I snapped, stepping straight into his path instead of backing away. “I’m sick of being measured like a broken piece of furniture, and I’m sick of you standing in my way every time I try to breathe!”

Push back! Show me something more than stoicism.

He closed the remaining space between us, his broad frame blocking the wind and trapping me back against the cold granite pillar. The heat off his chest was immediate, suffocating the chill in the air. He slammed his hands flat against the stone on either side of my head, locking me within the cage of his arms.

“You think I want to lock you in a room, Tauriel?” he murmured, leaning down until his eyes were level with mine. “Look at me.”

I held his stare, my jaw set, my pulse thudding in my throat.

“The court wants a fragile doll they can control or discard,” Caspian said, his voice dropping low as his gaze flicked down to the open collar of my dress before snapping back to my eyes. “Dellyn wants a half-breed who will fold the second the trials get bloody. I refuse to treat you like something that’s going to break. If this realm wants to watch you burn, I’m going to make sure you’re the one holding the match.”

The harsh certainty in his voice cut clean through my anger. He wasn’t looking down on my human blood. He was demanding I survive it.

His gaze dropped to my lips. The heavy silence stretched between us, the tension that had been building for weeks coiling tight in the narrow space. My breath caught as he tilted his head, his lips hovering an inch from mine, the scent of pine and cold iron wrapping around my senses.

“A touching display of discipline, Captain.”

A voice like grinding stone cut through the quiet.

Caspian went rigid. A sharp, dangerous look flashed through his eyes before he lowered his arms and stepped sideways, his broad frame immediately positioning itself between me and the speaker.

A man stepped out of the fog at the far end of the colonnade.

He wore structured robes of charcoal-grey silk that seemed to absorb the dim morning light, his long dark hair falling straight past his shoulders. His features were sharp, severe, and utterly expressionless, his eyes a flat, solid black. He carried no weapons, but the ambient magic around him felt like a heavy pressure that made the fresh ink on my skin throb.