Page 39 of Born into Darkness

The dwarves shot me reluctant glances before lowering their blades.

“I’ve never met a princess,” Rake said, staring up at Nyssa, gasping as her scales flashed deep orange. “Did you see that?” He nudged Teeny.

“Quit it.” Teeny jabbed him back.

Rake rubbed his stomach. “No need to poke me so hard.”

“You hit me!” Teeny cried.

“Guys,” I said, grabbing their shoulders and splitting them up. “How about you help the rescued?”

The dwarves mumbled as they hobbled away.

“How can my mersoldiers and I help?” Nyssa asked me.

“Distribute the water, food, and blankets,” I replied, pointing to some of the supplies Phantom, the healers, and I had brought back from the resistance and had piled on one of the wagons.

“What’s happened here?” Nyssa continued her line of questions.

I had so many questions for her, too. Like what was she doing in the Wildfire woods? Why were all the mersoldiers gazing at her like they owned her? How had she gotten past the spies on the sea king’s road? But first, I had to take a deep breath in preparation for delivering the bad news.

My hands shook as I filled a goblet with water from a barrel. “My stepmother has taken control of the manor and of Tritonia,” I said, delivering the drink to a thirsty-looking shifter. “The resistance tells me she’s amassing an army of shifters. Probably to take over the rest of Haven.”

Nyssa’s face blanched at this news.

Fire catapulted in my veins at all the devastation that witch had caused. My eyes glossed with tears again. “Nyssa, that witch murdered my father. Imprisoned me and tried to have me executed before the resistance saved me.”

Something shifted behind Nyssa’s gaze, a combination of distress, pity, and alarm. “I promise I will help you get your home back.” Once again, she reached for me.

The old Snow wished to be comforted by her dear friend. At Nyssa’s embrace, fire exploded through me, and I bit back the pain. Habit had me stiffening with discomfort. Every nerve in me screamed to escape. My mind raged with various scenarios—scorching pain, cruel laughter. Look at what the torturer had done to me. His legacy. But I remained in my friend’s arms, all for the other part of me, her tears, our sobs, racking our body. This simple action alleviated some of the old Snow’s pain, bringing her comfort, reminding her of what she missed.

Unable to bear my grief any longer, I extracted myself and wiped the mess from my face, desperate to get some space alone in the woods. I leaned against the tree, fighting for composure, my chest quivering with the tears threatening to burst.

I didn’t get much reprieve because someone followed me. “Snow?” he said.

That voice again…calling me back from the dark edge once more.

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