We’ve done way more than kiss. We’ve blown the fucking curse. To smithereens.
But what if it’s not too late? What if Astrid could pull off something huge—like turning back time?
If I could go back to a week ago, I could stop this chain of events. I could simply not show up at our field that day. Ghosting Kirian would be super harsh, but I’d do it if it was for his own good.
I don’t know if there’s some kind of magic in the Shadowlands that crushes a person’s hopes and dreams, but despair crashes down on me.
I hug Kirian tighter, wishing there was something I could do to fix this.
I have to try. I have to see if there’s still a way to break the curse.
Even if that means he won’t be with me.
He said witches like deals, and I wonder if there’s anything I could offer Astrid as payment for such a large request. There’s got to be something I can bargain with.
What would I give up for him? Anything. Everything.
Would I die for him? Yes. That’s how much I care about this man.
A lump forms in my throat, and I’m trying not to cry. Can the creatures sense sadness, too? I sure hope not. Because if they can, they’ll all be flocking to us soon.
“What’s wrong, young one?” Kirian’s use of my old nickname only makes my heartache worse.
“Nothing,” I squeak out.
“I can feel your melancholy as if it’s my own.” He rubs my thigh. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not being open to your suggestions earlier. If you don’t want to go back to the palace right away, we don’t have to.”
I’m glad he can’t read my mind. If he knew what was really bothering me, he’d try to convince me I’m wrong.
I clear my throat. “Of course Delaveria is where you want to be. I don’t expect you to change your ways for me.”
“Well, you should. You’re going to be queen. Your opinion matters, and it would be good for the kingdom to see us more. Maybe I could appoint a second in command to take my place while we’re gone.”
Oh, this sweet man.
“Like who?” I humor him, even though I’m too uncertain of the future to make plans.
“Gia. She’d love it. She’s been asking for more responsibility for a long time. Maybe it’s her turn.”
Kirian’s willingness to compromise makes me love him more, and I want to tell him that, but a sudden screech pulls my attention away.
“What was that?” My entire body tenses.
“Hold on tight,” Kirian orders before spinning in a circle.
His axe makes a wet sound when it connects with something, and I clamp my lips together to keep myself from screaming.
“It’s a pack,” Damon calls next to us, but the words get swallowed up into the dark unknown.
A pack? A pack of what?
Tightening my legs and arms, I hold on for dear life as Kirian’s body sways back and forth. Yeah, I’m probably not going anywhere when I’m in the pouch, but I feel a bit like I’m on one of those mechanical bulls. His motions are jerky as he turns this way and that, and the lingering queasiness from the stardust poisoning gets stirred up.
Although the fight lasts less than two minutes, it feels like forever before we finally resume walking. I’m assuming the immediate threat is gone, but I don’t want it to happen again.
I go back to thinking about the field. Helping Kirian gather honeysuckle and hearing the songs he coaxed from the crickets.
The creek. Teaching Kirian how to catch a fish and watching his face scrunch up when he felt how slimy it was.
Butterscotch pudding. Books. Board games.
We encounter another pack of something. I think this one has wings because I hear frantic flapping above and around us.
Climbing trees. Dancing. Playing with Kirian’s hair.
I stay in my happy place, shutting out everything around me, until we make it to our destination.
Patting my butt, Kirian says, “We’re here.”
I’m shaking as he unties the carrier and I slide down his body, staying as close as possible.
“It’s just through here,” Damon tells us.
At my back, Kirian molds himself to me, gripping my hips and curling his upper body over mine as he nudges me forward.
All of the sudden, there’s light. It’s not super bright, but after being in complete darkness, it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust.
“So, you just walk in here like you own the place now?”
I follow the raspy voice to a small, frail troll. She’s sitting in a rocking chair by a fireplace. With her gray dress, silver hair, pale skin, and honey-colored eyes, she almost blends in with the drab surroundings.
When I look around, I see we’re in a cave.
The walls, ceiling, and floor are rocky and uneven. Shelves have been chiseled into the stone, and there are several stacks of books. There’s a bubbling spring in the far back corner, and the water is steaming like a hot tub.
Three circular rope rugs create designated areas in the open space. One for the dining room, one by the fireplace, and one in front of what looks like a kitchen counter. They’re multicolored—a mish mash of black, brown, yellow, and white. There’s something strange about the material they’re made from. It’s glossy, almost like… hair.
A cot with brown blankets sits along the wall to our left.
It’s surprisingly cozy in here, considering the location.
“Please forgive me, Astrid.” Damon swaggers over to her wooden table and pulls out a chair for himself. “We’ve been through quite a lot to come see you.”
“I know,” she responds, still rocking in her chair. “Nice hair style, by the way. I told you to let me cut it last time.”
Damon flips his shoulder-length locks. “You just wanted my golden mane for your rugs.”
“Better than getting it burnt off, don’t you think?” she counters.
Wrinkling my nose, I peer closer at the woven mats. Yeah, they’re definitely made out of hair.
Disturbing.
Kirian draws in a measured breath, as if he’s calling on his patience. “We need—”
“Two
