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Then, slowly, she pushed herself up onto her elbow. The blanket slipped from her shoulder, revealing the marks I’d left—small reminders of everything we hadn’t said with words. She didn’t move to cover them.
“What happens now?” she asked.
I exhaled. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
A half-smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t hold.
“I have to go back,” she said. “I can’t stay here, pretending this is over. Ysella’s still out there. The others who were taken. . . we don’t know if they’re alive or already—” Her words broke, and she looked away.
I sat up, bracing my elbows on my knees. “We’ll find them. Whatever it takes.”
She looked at me then—really looked. “You say that like it’s simple.”
“It’s not.” I reached for her hand, brushing my thumb along her knuckles. “But you’re not doing it alone.”
She blinked. “August—”
“I mean it.” I turned to face her fully, my fingers lacing through hers. “I don’t care what my father thinks he made me into. I don’t care what he’ll do when he finds out I helped you. I’m done living in his shadow.”
Her breath hitched.
“I watched him destroy people,” I said. “Erased them like they were nothing. And I believed it was necessary. Righteous.” I looked down at our joined hands. “Then you showed up. And you didn’t just survive—you fought. You made me see it. All of it.”
Her hand tightened in mine.
“I was meant to be his weapon,” The words tasted like ash. “But now. . .” I met her eyes. “I want to be yours.”
A beat of silence. The air was too full, too charged.
Then Lily leaned in, pressing her forehead to mine. “You’re not a weapon,” she whispered. “You’re the reason I’m still here. The reason Weavers will survive.”
I closed my eyes.
“I want to believe that.”
“Then believe it,” she said. “Because I do.”
We stayed like that for a while. No fire. No movement. Just quiet breaths shared between two people who’d seen too much and still dared to hold each other in the dark.
When she pulled back, I saw it—the resolve in her eyes, sharp and clear. The kind of determination that didn’t fade with sleep or soften with time. It had hardened in the fire. And now it burned with purpose.
“We need to speak with Adeline. We cannot wait any longer. Things must be put into motion,” she said.
“Lily, I would feel much better about this if you stayed here.”
She sat straight up then. Her long hair fell over her shoulders. “Absolutely not. I will not stay behind.”
It was one of the many reasons I had fallen for her—her fire, her unshakable conviction. She never yielded, never softened her truth to make others comfortable. It was that defiance, quiet but relentless, that undid me, piece by piece.
I brought my palm to her cheek, cradling it. “You, my impossible girl. How could I deny you anything? Every part of me follows where you lead.”
Her eyes softened as she leaned into my touch, a brief moment of surrender before duty reclaimed her spine.
“Come on,” she said, quiet but firm. “There’s no more time to waste.”
Outside the tent, a few Weavers stirred near the edge of camp, silent figures draped in their white linen. They looked almost spectral, cloaked in mist and magic, as if they were caught halfway between this world and another. One of them—Syra—stood apart from the rest, her silver-threaded braid catching what little light was peaking over the horizon.
She turned as we approached, her sharp eyes sweeping over Lily, then settling briefly on me. I couldn’t read her. I wasn’t sure I ever would.
