Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
The second day bled into the third with little to mark the difference. More trees, more narrow paths, more endless riding that left everyone sore and irritable. The forest had grown denser, darker, the canopy so thick that even midday felt like twilight.
Briar noticed the shift in the group's dynamics around midday on the third day. Small things at first—Sian snapping at Halian when he asked about the water supply, Thaine's responses to questions growing shorter and more clipped.
Then Arion questioned Karse about the route.
"Are you certain this is the right direction?" The Star Prince's tone was carefully neutral, but the implication was clear. "We've been traveling for days."
Karse, who'd been ranging ahead as usual, stopped and turned. His golden eyes had gone flat. "Are you questioning whether I know my own lands?"
"I'm questioning whether you remember them," Eliam interjected, his voice cold. "It's been centuries since your people abandoned these territories. Landmarks change."
"Landmarks don't forget." Karse's claws had extended slightly. "The trees remember. The stones remember. I remember."
"Then perhaps you could share where exactly we're going," Arion pressed. "Because from where I stand, we're just wandering deeper into the wilderness with no clear destination."
"Would you prefer I provide you with a map?" Karse's tone had gone dangerous. "Perhaps mark it with a nice dotted line so you can follow along like children?"
"That's not what he meant—" Sian started.
"Isn't it?" Karse turned to face them all. "You want me to guide you to the seal, but you don't trust that I actually know where it is. You think what? That I'm leading you in circles for entertainment?"
"No one said that," Thaine said carefully.
"You didn't have to." Karse's lip curled. "I can see it in how you all keep checking the sun's position, how you mark the trees as we pass. You're tracking our route because you don't trust mine."
"Can you blame us?" Eliam's shadows had begun to pool at his feet. "Your people have every reason to want the fae courts dead. Leading us into the wilderness and abandoning us would be efficient."
The temperature dropped several degrees. Karse went perfectly still, and Briar saw his hand move to the weapon at his side.
"If I wanted you dead," he said softly, "I wouldn't need to abandon you in the forest. I'd just slit your throats in your sleep and be done with it."
"Try it," Eliam said flatly.
"Enough." Arion's light flared between them. "We're all tired. We're all on edge. This isn't helping."
"No, let's hear it," Karse said, his attention still fixed on Eliam. "If you don't trust me to guide you, why did you agree to my terms? Why bring me at all?"
"Because we had no choice," Eliam said. "Not because we trust you."
Something flickered across Karse's face—hurt, maybe, or rage so deep it had gone cold. "Then perhaps you should find your own way to the seal. See how far you get before the corruption takes you."
He turned and stalked into the trees, leaving the group in tense silence.
"That went well," Halian muttered.
"Someone should go after him," Sian said, but no one moved.
Briar watched from Phaeon's back, saying nothing. The fractures in the group that had been hairline cracks were widening into chasms. Fear and exhaustion were turning them against each other, and they hadn't even reached the corrupted zones yet.
The rest of the day passed in uncomfortable quiet. Karse didn't return until they were making camp, appearing from the shadows without a word. He took the food Sian offered him but sat apart from the group, pointedly not looking at any of them.
No one suggested gathering around the fire for conversation. People ate quickly, separately, barely speaking. The usual routines of watch rotation and ward-setting happened with minimal interaction, everyone just wanting the day to be over.
Briar settled into the bedroll beside Eliam, feeling the exhaustion in every muscle. Three days of riding, three nights of tension, and they hadn't even reached the danger yet.
"Sleep," Eliam said quietly, pulling her against him. "Tomorrow will be better."
She wanted to believe him, but the tight set of his jaw suggested he didn't believe it either.
She closed her eyes and let exhaustion pull her under.
The throne room materialized around her with the logic of dreams—she wasn't walking toward it, she was simply there, standing before the autumn throne as if she'd always been there.
Malus sat in the seat that should have been Eliam's, one leg crossed over the other, looking perfectly at ease. The copper leaves in his hair caught the light from hundreds of candles that hadn't been burning a moment ago.
"There you are," he said, his smile sharp. "I was beginning to think you'd learned to hide from me."
Briar's hand went to her throat, to the marks that suddenly burned like brands. "No. This isn't real."
"Isn't it?" He stood, descending the dais with predatory grace. "You're here. I'm here. Seems real enough to me."
She tried to step back and found she couldn't move her feet. The marks flared hotter, holding her in place.
"You left the Star Court," he continued, circling her slowly.
"I felt it the moment you crossed their borders.
The pretty wards the Star Prince built around you, all that careful protection—it doesn't extend beyond his territory.
" His fingers trailed across her shoulders as he moved behind her.
"Now you're in the wilderness. Exposed."
"You can't find me." The words came out more confident than she felt.
"Can't I?" His breath was warm against her ear. "I'm inside your head right now, dear one. You don't think that gives me some indication of where you are?"
The throne room flickered, and for a moment she saw trees, darkness, and heard the sound of wind through branches. Then it solidified again, Malus's hand on her shoulder turning her to face him.
"Tell me where you're going," he said, and she felt the compulsion push through the marks, trying to force the words from her throat.
Her jaw clenched. The compulsion pulled, insisted, but nothing came out. The dream space wavered slightly.
Malus's eyes narrowed, a mixture of amusement and fury floating in their depths. "Interesting. The bargain doesn't hold as well in dreams." His hand moved to her throat, fingers tracing the marks. "But these still burn, don't they? Still pull you toward me even when you're asleep?"
"Let me go."
"Why would I do that?" His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer. "You're finally somewhere I can reach you. No wards, no court protections, just you and me and the connection you can't sever."
Briar tried to pull away but his grip tightened, and the marks flared with heat that made her gasp.
"You're heading toward something," he mused, studying her face. "Something important. My brother wouldn't risk taking you into the wilderness otherwise."
She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.
"It doesn't matter." His smile widened. "Wherever you’re going, you won't reach it in time. I'm already so close, dear one. So close to having everything I need." His hand on her throat squeezed slightly. "Including you."
"I'll never help you."
"You won't have a choice." His thumb brushed across the marks.
"These make sure of that. And once I have you back, once I extract what's hidden inside you.
.." He leaned in, his lips nearly touching hers.
"We'll have all the time in the world to explore what you've become. How sweet hope must make your blood."
The throne room began to darken, shadows creeping in from the corners.
"Sweet dreams, my lady," he whispered. "I'll be seeing you soon."
The marks on her throat suddenly burned white-hot, searing, and she screamed—
Briar jolted awake, gasping, her hand flying to her throat. The marks were on fire, actually burning, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think past the pain.
"Briar." Eliam's voice, urgent. His hands on her face, turning her toward him. "Briar, look at me."
She focused on his eyes, dark and intense in the dim firelight.
"Breathe," he commanded. "Just breathe."
She sucked in air, her chest heaving, the marks still burning but starting to fade from white-hot to merely painful. Tears streamed down her face from the intensity of it.
"He was in my head, I could feel his hands, the mark," she managed. "Malus. He—"
"I know." His thumb brushed away her tears. "The marks were glowing. Burning through your skin. I tried to wake you but you wouldn't respond."
She pressed her hand over his where it cupped her face, anchoring herself in his solid presence. The dream was already fragmenting the way dreams do, but Malus's words echoed: I'm already so close.
"He knows we left the Star Court," she said. "He felt it. He's looking for us. For me."
Eliam's jaw tightened. "Can he see where we are? Through the dream?"
"I don't think so. He tried to make me tell him but the compulsion didn't work right." She touched her throat again, feeling the marks still hot beneath her fingers. "But he knows we're in the wilderness. He knows we're heading somewhere."
Around them, the camp was stirring. The others had noticed something was wrong—her scream had been audible, and the way Eliam had moved had been urgent enough to wake the lighter sleepers.
"What happened?" Sian appeared at their bedroll, concern clear on her face.
"Malus reached her through the marks," Eliam said, anger edging his words. "In her dreams."
"That's not possible," Halian protested, but his voice lacked conviction. "The wards should prevent—"
"We're not in the Star Court anymore," Arion said quietly. He'd risen from his own bedroll, his light dim but present. "The protections don't extend this far."
Karse appeared from the shadows where he'd been on watch. "Can he find her with those things?"