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The way Jessa was looking at him made it clear what she meant. Feelings. He was not having this conversation. Not with her. Not now. “What? No. I—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Ugh, stars above. What does she see in you? You’re exhausting.” Jessa rolled her eyes dramatically. “You obviously like her, and it’s driving you insane that another man walked into the teeny tiny emotional space you left open. Which, by the way, is only there because you refuse to be honest with her about what you want.”

Orzen went still. The words landed like a strike to his gut. Heat crawled up his neck. He was suddenly twelve again, all awkward limbs and flustered silence, staring at someone who saw him far too clearly. He wanted to argue, but the truth of it was right there.

He’d been trying so hard not to look at them, he’d almost convinced himself the feelings weren’t real. He barely deserved her friendship, let alone anything more. Somewhere between Hearthroot and now, he’d stumbled into them anyway. As if ignoring his feelings would make them disappear.

“Oh my gods,” Jessa whispered and her mouth fell open. “Did you even know? How dense are you about your own feelings?”

The sheer astonishment on her face distracted him from schooling his own. He was sure his expression gave him away—some moon-eyed fool with his heart dangling out where she could see.

“I—it’s not that—”

He snapped his jaw shut, scowling as if that could shield him from the truth. It didn’t. His feelings sat between them, heavy and undeniable. There was a brief, useless struggle to shove it all back somewhere he wouldn’t have to think about it, but now that Jessa had said it, all he could do was sit with it.

Gods, I’m too old for this. He’d outgrown letting feelings cloud his judgement long before the Brand. At least, he thought he had.

“There’s a difference between knowing and wanting to acknowledge it.” He rubbed his jaw. “And I’m not some kid with an infatuation,” he snapped—sharper than he meant. Even to his own ears, the words sounded thin.

“Because only kids have feelings?” Jessa’s eyebrow angled, sharp with incredulity. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course not. But that’s not the point. How I feel about her is the least important thing right now.” He groaned and flung his hand toward the pools. “That man is hiding something, and if I could just get her to see it…”

“Whatever Silas wants, he clearly knows how to hit your weak spots,” she muttered. “But if you keep bottling everything up, she won’t be able to see him clearly. She’ll be too busy hoping you’ll—”

A roar ripped through the forest. It rumbled through the ground, rattling in his bones. The cry was all-consuming, the woods echoing it.

His head snapped up, heart plummeting. Then Wren screamed. He lunged for his belt—grabbing empty air. His sword wasn’t there. He’d dropped it saving Tommick.

“Shit.”

Jessa seized his arm. “Go!”

They sprinted from the clearing, branches tearing at their faces and arms. Cries echoed toward them from the pools. Orzen pushed harder, lungs burning, only one thought pounding through him: Get to her.

Jessa flung out a trembling hand as they ran, her lips forming fragmented syllables. The air quivered then burst. A jagged wall of pressure splintered like frozen fog, but she gritted her teeth and tried again.

They broke through the trees and onto the bank.

A monster loomed over the pools—massive and skeletal, flesh stretched tight across its frame. The scythe it carried slashed through the air. It slammed into Garin’s stone wall, shattered shards exploding outward.

One caught Calen on the shoulder, and he spun to the ground with a cry. Jessa screamed his name and sprinted toward him. At the edge of the bank, Branwynn crouched over Tommick, shielding him with her whole body.

A glint of steel caught Orzen’s eye. His sword. It was half-buried on the bank between the shattered wall and the monster’s staggering strides. He was useless without it. The scythe rose again, hollow sockets locking on Wren.

Orzen ran, ducking low, heart hammering. The scythe crashed into the mud. Dirt and stone burst outward from the impact. Orzen dove, rolled, and came up with the sword in his grip. With a roar of his own, he swung for the monster’s knee. Bone splintered with a satisfying crack.

The thing didn’t slow. It never turned its sight from Wren. He growled in frustration and righted himself for another strike. A bolt whistled overhead, striking clean through the vacant socket of its skull. Silas reloaded and fired again.

For a heartbeat, Orzen let himself think the man had finally done something useful. But the creature didn’t even twitch when the bolt struck its ribs.

Skeletal fingers swept low, clawing for Wren. She stumbled back, thrusting her hands out. Threads of Spirit flared in a desperate burst. A chill slammed into the thing, like she’d meant to freeze the marrow in its bones. For an instant, the creature stiffened. Then its skull arced forward, black voids drinking her in. Her command cracked, burst like glass against stone.

Calen staggered upright again, one arm hanging uselessly at his side. Jessa clenched her fists, every muscle rigid with focus, and roared, flinging a wall of compressed air between Wren and the oncoming scythe. The air shimmered. Her whole body shook with the effort of holding it in place. The blade slammed into it with a blast that made Orzen’s ears pop. The shield buckled, split, and shattered an instant later.

The beast swung again. Garin hurled a boulder, the ties on his eye-wrap fluttering in time with the feather on his staff. Stone smashed into the monster’s arm with a crack. Bone twisted, fractured, but its claw still dragged forward, reaching for Wren.

“Stay away from her!” Orzen roared, charging, his sword biting into the ruined limb with everything he had. Bones snapped. The strike reverberated down the blade, coursing along his arms.