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Rhett says nothing.

For the first time tonight, all three of us agree.

Sage’s breathing changes. She’s frightened now. Not enough to run. Enough to listen.

Good.

I gradually move closer. “Do you know what your name means here?”

“Apparently Bride.”

“No.” I touch one finger to the ribbon.

Ezra tenses.

Sage watches my hand.

“McBride.”

Her eyes lift. “What about it?”

“It was here before Ward Farm.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“My family isn’t from here.”

“One branch was.”

Her brow furrows. “How would you know that?”

Because I watched one of your ancestors bleed into this ground. Because I heard her scream until her throat tore. Because I dug through the Earth with my bare hands trying to reach her. Because for two hundred and thirty-five years, I have heard what remains of her whispering beneath my feet.

Instead, I say, “I knew them.”

She laughs nervously. “Two hundred years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Malakai.”

“Yes?”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No.”

She searches my face, waiting for the joke.

There isn’t one.

Behind her, the crowd erupts as someone climbs onto a table and another person follows. The music swells with them, louder and heavier than before, and I feel the Revel gathering momentum. Too much momentum and fast.

The Harvest is hungry.

Sage glances toward the noise, and I see the moment the atmosphere finds her again. The fear in her expression doesn’t disappear, but something warmer begins to bleed through it, softening the tension around her mouth as her pupils widen.