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Malin stood silent and stiff at the path that would lead us back to Felstad. Before she turned around, I slipped my fingers into hers, squeezing her hand tightly.
Her misty eyes lifted to mine. The same relief still lived in her features when we were reunited outside the walls of Felstad. Alive and together.
“I’m frightened, Kase,” she whispered.
“I know.” I pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “I am always at your side. You do not ever need to do life alone if you do not wish it.”
“I know.” She let her head fall to my shoulder. “We will rebuild it. When this is over, we’ll rebuild the ruins.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Felstad was a piece of you, and to see it this way cannot be easy.”
“Our haven is together, Malin. You, me, the Kryv. Barren walls mean nothing. It is the people who fill them that matter.”
“Nightrender, I hate to tell you this,” she said slyly, “but you are sounding much more like a person who believes in love more than fear.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you want me to join you or not because—”
She laughed, a rough sound, almost like she might cry along with it, and pulled my arm back when I tried to walk away. “Yes. I want you here. Stay. I’ll never hint that you’re a loving man again.”
“Good.”
Hand in hand, we returned to the edge of the camp. Northern folk, Kryv, and Falkyn stood in a huddle, all eyes locking on Malin when we came closer. Hagen and Bard shoved through the line of folk and joined us on either side.
They had the same fear as me—there was nothing we could do to protect her from this. Still, it meant something to know her two brothers would stand at her side, always with her, even if we were at the mercy of magic we did not understand.
One by one, the royals of the North joined us. Herja clung to Gunnar’s arm, Laila perched on her hip until Hagen urged his family to his side. Sol and Tor were somber, but now Sol held the sleeping fae babe in his arms.
I swallowed the knot in my throat and tightened my hold on Malin’s hand. We were absent the support of the king and queen of the North. Elise had not left Valen’s side in the shanty where he still remained locked in Lynx’s mesmer. Lynx was with her, waiting to return the king under a trance should he wake before daylight.
Niklas had his arm draped around Junie’s shoulders at the head of the circle. Between his thumb and finger, he rolled the queen’s ring. The runes on the edges had not stopped glowing since Malin had stepped next to it once again.
With a grin, Niklas held out the ring in his open palm. “There is nothing I found that will harm you, Mal. Are you ready to take up your crown?”
Malin straightened her shoulders. Slowly, she unfurled her hand from mine and strode forward.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t think.
If anything happened to her . . .
“Shall we see what all the fuss is about?” she said. A shaky laugh followed. A few chuckles filtered through the crowd, but in truth, the lot of us were wholly unsettled.
Malin licked her lips. A subtle tremble to her fingertips was the only hint she was afraid at all as she splayed her fingers out.
Silence devoured the forest.
“Nik,” she whispered. “I can hear your thoughts, past and present. It would help if you kept your more worrisome thoughts to yourself.”
Niklas’s eyes widened. He glanced at the ring in his grip. “Come again?”
Malin tried to keep her voice steady. “I hear your thoughts, or actually, your memories. Only yours. I know . . . I know I could take power of your mind right now. And it’s horribly frightening because your thoughts are very heavily concerned that this ring will kill me.”
She heard whispers of memories the way I sensed the whispers and taste of fear. Merely standing beside the ring had added to her bleeding mesmer.
“I’m always worried any new magic will kill us,” Niklas insisted.
