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Jagged mountains stood sentinel, far off but stark against the sky. The rest of the Circle was made of empty rolling fields blanketed in buttery yellow flowers and dotted occasionally with flat homes or tall cathedrals. It was a majestic emptiness, but desolate all the same.

He was not at all prepared him for what he would find when they finally slipped through Perine’s window.

She sat curled in on herself, knees drawn to her chest, her face buried in her hands. And she was sobbing. Loudly.

Oleander hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before clearing his throat. His feet begged him to go to her. His arms needed to pull Perine to him. His brain reminded him that they were supposed to have some sort of professional boundaries—only she was crying, and it was growing harder and harder to remember what to do with his hands if not to lay them gently on her shoulder in comfort.

Perine lifted her head, her bright lavender eyes glassy with tears. The moment they met his, a dagger of despair lodged itself deep in his gut. She let out a bitter laugh, swiping at her face, only to smear the tears instead of wiping them away.

“Brilliant.” Her voice was thick, raw. “Of course you’re here. Just in time to see me a complete catastrophe.”

Oleander sat gingerly on her bed moving to slip off his shoes—only to realise he hadn’t been wearing any when her hellcat had whisked him away. Still clad in his nightclothes, he looked over, meeting Perine’s red-rimmed eyes. A tightness gripped his chest. He reached out with a suddenly trembling hand and laid it gently on her shoulder.

He attempted at appearing unaffected; yet, worry buzzed through his veins, clouded all his thoughts until he felt he might explode if he didn’t find out what was making her cry and destroy it. The quiet between them stretched, heavy and all-consuming, as if Perine too was vibrating with emotions she couldn’t yet name.

Oleander tore his quivering hand away, crushing it into stillness before he pulled it back to press into where his heart beat frantically in his chest. He did not know his place in Perine’s life—whether he lived in her thoughts as a friend, or merely as a partner pushed upon her. So he cleared his throat and rasped, “What’s wrong with you, then?”

“I can’t—” She started, but then broke into sobs. Taking a shaky breath, she tried again. “It’s the night of the Moonflower Market.”

Oleander glanced out the window at the Midsummer Moon. The scent of jasmine and the sweet spice of magic wafted in, rich and heady. He rarely needed to buy herbs in secret, but everyone knew about the market—the hidden lane that appeared only for hedonistic magical beings, brimming with illicit wonders. The Holy Circle condemned it, of course, claiming it defied the teachings of the Silver Book.

“Alright…” He took the information in carefully, watching her as she cried softly beside him. Choosing his words with care, he asked, “And you dislike illegal markets?”

“What?” Her brow furrowed. “No. I love them.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t see the problem,” he admitted. “You’re clever, Perine. Just wear a disguise if you want to go so badly.”

“I can’t!” she choked out, another sob wracking her frame. She blew out a few shaky breaths. “I’m trapped here.” She buried her face in her hands with a long groan. “I always go to the Moonflower Market. Then I woke up tonight, and realised what night it was. I was already getting dressed to sneak out when I remembered—I can’t. I’ll never be able to go again.”

“What do you mean, trapped?” Oleander turned to look at her, his mask of cool detachment slipping. “Explain.”

Perine turned away from him and pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing the back of her upper shoulder.

A rune.

Shoddily done, its lines uneven, its magic unstable—applied by someone with no finesse, yet strong enough intent to make it work.

Oleander leaned in, his breath stilling as he recognised the mark. A Rune of Entrapment.

That wasn’t right. That rune had only ever been used on dumb animals and even then only centuries ago. It had been created to keep them from straying too far from safety. It was never meant to be used on demonkind. This was unconscionable.

The shadows inside him churned, a roiling mess of fury. His teeth clenched as he forced out the words.

“Who did this to you?”

Perine turned, her tear-streaked face unreadable. “It doesn’t matter.”

Obviously, that meant her family. Most likely her parents.

Perine’s family was a fang sunk deep into her, and she refused to admit they were poisoning her. But whether she saw it or not, the venom was seeping into every crack of her life. Killing her slowly.

Then again—who was he to judge? Oleander had been blind to his father’s malice until the shadow had been shoved into his body.

We all make excuses for the ones who are supposed to love us.

He wanted to tell her he’d never stopped writing to her—that he’d sent nearly a hundred letters, all of which had been returned to him unopened. There was an unnatural urge inside him to admit that he’d missed her. Desperately. More than he’d thought was possible.

Only, there was no telling if she’d be pleased or annoyed to know how much he missed her. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that fact. If he told her that he thought of her every day and it was torture not seeing her anymore, she’d simply remind him that he was a fool. Who the Hell cared about their research partner this much?