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He knew how the scene must look through her eyes. Elbow cocked to strike a man bleeding in the dirt. Smoke curled off his fist from the flame beneath his skin. Dangerous. The monster Silas painted him to be.

The bottom dropped out of him. It was too natural—too easy to slip back into the violence he’d sworn off. The way he always did. He didn’t want her to see him that way. But if the choice was her trust or her safety, he’d damn well choose her safety every time.

Silas seized the moment of distraction, shoving Orzen off him effortlessly. He tumbled away from Silas, hitting the ground hard.

The breath knocked from his chest and he wheezed. Silas loomed over him, grinning. His breath rattled slowly, as if the fight had barely winded him.

“He attacked me for no reason,” Silas said quickly, voice thin with false hurt. He grabbed Wren’s elbow, pulling her close. “I warned you. You didn’t listen to me, and it almost got me killed again. I expect you to do something this time.”

The camp had fully woken now. Branwynn clutched Tommick. Jessa rose like she might intervene until Calen whispered something to her. The wooden staff creaked in Garin’s fist, straining not only to listen to what was happening, but to understand.

Wren’s hand shook within Silas’s. Her gaze locked on him, but her expression was unreadable. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words faltered.

Orzen pushed himself upright, heat stuttering under his skin as the rage burned off—dampened by the fear in her eyes. Breath stuttered into his lungs, and he stumbled toward them.

“Wren,” he said, voice shaking. “Look at me. Please.” He knew it sounded fragile, but he was desperate. “You can’t believe him. He’s not one of us. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“He’ll say anything to save face.” Silas gave a dark laugh and wiped blood from his lip. “How long until he loses control around Calen? Garin? You?”

Wren’s focus bounced between them, and it seemed like a lifetime before she moved. She pressed her lips together, dropped Silas’s hands, and took a single step toward Orzen.

“I’m listening,” she whispered.

Relief hit Orzen so hard he had to shut his eyes against it.

“You’re making a mistake,” Silas growled, low and feral. Then he turned to Orzen, a flash of cold menace in his eyes. “Such a shame you didn’t die in the chokevine.”

Sickly green light flashed through Silas’s eyes. His fingers curled like he was hauling unseen threads toward him. Orzen reached for his sword, but the ground erupted first.

Vines shot toward him in a violent tangle, briars punching through leather and skin. They wrapped his arms, his chest, his legs, dragging him down to his knees. He struggled against them and the briars carved deeper with every movement. Fury roared in him, banishing the pain, but he couldn’t break through.

“No!” Wren rushed between them.

For a moment, Orzen stilled in relief. Then his stomach clenched. The Spirit flaring around her hands wasn’t the clean silver glow he was used to. It writhed with a darker thread, shadow-thick, like something in her magic had woken in answer to his suffering.

“What are you?“ Her eyes blazed with the same dark tinged light that enveloped her hands.

“I’m His chosen, Wren.” Silas slid toward her, calm as a priest approaching a sacrifice. “You know who I serve. You’ve dreamed of him, too.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, though it sounded like less of a question and, more a denial of something she wasn’t ready to accept. Orzen strained against the vines, fighting to ignore the hot gashes opening across his skin.

“He needs you,“ Silas crooned. “The forest needs you.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head, backing away. “I’m not…” Her shoulders drew in but her hands never lowered.

A stone whirled past Orzen, slamming into Silas’s side with a crack, knocking him off-balance. Silas snarled and flicked a hand without even glancing up. A thorn shot across the clearing and struck Garin’s shoulder—dropping him with a gasp.

“Garin!” Jessa lunged toward him.

“I’ve seen it in you,” Silas continued, as if he’d never been interrupted at all. His smile was too tender to be sane. “Come with me. You could be more than this. Even now, you’re proving that it’s already within you.”

Wren’s hands lowered a fraction, trembling even as the darkened Spirit coiled at her fingertips.

“Don’t listen to him!” Orzen shouted. “You’re not what he—”

“I’m speaking,” Silas said, snarling in Orzen’s direction.

He flicked his fingers once more. Vines snapped across Orzen’s mouth, slicing his skin, blood pooling hot and bitter across his tongue. The more he twisted, the harder they drew around his ribs, pressing the air from his lungs.