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Chapter Two
Lonan
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe I couldn’t breathe.
I huddled against the wall of Ash’s cottage, between wild clumps of his plants in the herb garden he had lovingly tended. My left leg was stretched out, hands clamped around my thigh as if that would stem some of the blood pumping from the long gash left by one of my mother’s guards.
The other on my back was from Bres. The one on my chest was from Balor.
At least they had left, slinking back to the palace after ordering the guards into the forest to track down Ash. The Carlin’s shriek had filled the air, freezing them all in place for agonisingly long seconds, but Ash had already vanished into the forest by then. Away from her grasp.
I’d still been the wolf when her shriek had flooded every corner of her lands, freezing Folk feet to the ground, which meant it hadn’t affected me. I’d limped off, favouring my right leg. Balor’s cold eyes had tracked me until I’d vanished into the gloom of the forest.
But they could come back. Looking for me. Looking for Ash. So I hid between the plants, trembling wildly and too weak to even crawl inside, into the warmth of Ash’s cottage, the one place in the world where I had ever felt at home.
But that had only been because of him, and he was gone now. My eyes burned, and I tipped my head back against the cottage wall to stare up at the muslin cloth above my head—the one Ash had used to protect his plants from the frost.
He was gone. The utter despair mingled in a confusing swirl with the intense relief that he had escaped my mother—some semblance of what I had felt for months. Part of me had been terrified that he would shed his mortal skin and leave me, be gone forever, even though I knew it was what had to happen to keep him safe.
And now he had. My Ash was full fae. But then, he wasn’t my Ash anymore.
I wanted to die.
His voice had been so cold, even as it shook as he had wept. I couldn’t bear the still-fresh memory of it. I had made him cry. I had caused his suffering.
I’d been a fool, thinking I could fix any of this before it was too late. Before he found out the true extent of it all. And now I’d paid the price. No matter how fervently I had told him it had been true, he thought that everything we had was a lie. A game.
And now there was nothing I could do to right it. I’d felt the power in his words—in the vow he’d made to forget me until the day he died. He’d said I was nothing to him anymore.
I felt like nothing. I felt like I would shrivel up into nothing where I sat, panting and bleeding alone in the dark.
Part of me wanted to crawl into his cottage and lie there, waiting for the wounds to fester and take me. At least I’d be near him then, in the only way I could. Maybe the scent of his skin would still linger, even though I’d seen Balor in there tearing through his things, infecting the space that had been mine and Ash’s. Ours.
I wanted to go after him, to make sure the guards didn’t find him, but my wounds were too deep. I couldn’t shift into anything right now, and I could barely walk.
And I didn’t want to leave the cottage. This was all I had left of him.
But I had to. I owed it to him to heal so I could keep him safe, wherever he was in the forest. He didn’t remember me anymore, but I could watch over him. I could protect him in that way.
I’d failed in all others already.
I dragged myself out of the garden from under the muslin cloth. My vision whited out as I dug my fingers into the rough cottage wall to heave myself up, my left leg buckling until I almost fell flat on my face. My shirt was soaked, the clean edges sliced into the fabric by blades sticking to my skin. I left a trail of blood on the snowy grass as I limped my way closer to the forest.
Where was Ash’s arm? Horror gripped me as I looked around wildly for it. Had some animal darted out of the forest to take it? Or had Balor taken it back to the palace? What was my mother going to do with it?
I hoped more snow would come to cover the trail of blood I left as I slowly limped away from the cottage, in the direction of the village. At least Belial lived on the very outskirts, so I could stay hidden from the rest of the Folk. They must have been wondering what had happened. I wondered if any had seen Ash’s frantic sprint for his life across unseelie land. If they had, the Carlin’s furious shriek that had frozen all nearby fae feet to the ground for long seconds would have made more sense.
It had succeeded in emptying the village at least, I realised as I got closer. Everyone feared her—and me. No one wanted to be outside if she, in a fit of furious cold rage, sent me to slaughter Folk.
There was still weak light glowing in the lower windows of Belial’s tall, narrow house when I approached. After reaching the door, I let out a slow, trembling breath before straightening to my full height, clenching my teeth together to stop the pained moan from escaping. I made sure my blank, cold mask was in place before I knocked on the door.
Belial was barefoot and wearing a collarless black shirt and loose black trousers when he opened the door, clearly preparing to sleep. Aside from a brief flare of surprise in his electric blue eyes, his face remained calm.
“Prince Lonan.”
I was sweating, but hoped I managed to remain blank-faced. “I require aid.”
