49. Ryewood #2
We cut through the hedgerows, past the rose arbors, deeper into the gardens, away from the castle, away from him.
But even as we run, the truth settles over me.
Where is it safe? He’ll find her. He has magic, guards, resources, an entire kingdom at his disposal.
She can run; she can hide, but he’ll never stop hunting her, and eventually he’ll catch her.
Unless she has power too. The thought hits me so hard I stop dead.
She crashes into my back.
“Rye? What—”
“The trials.” I spin to face her. My whole body is vibrating with the certainty of it. “The trials.”
She stares at me. “What?”
“If you go through the trials, you’ll awaken, and you’ll have magic.” The words tumble out of me half-formed and breathless. “He can’t touch you then, not as easily. You’d have a fighting chance.”
“The trials that kill people?” Her voice is frantic. “Tides, Rye—”
“Just one night.” I grip her shoulders. “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning in the trials.”
“Rye, that’s insane—”
I can feel the tension radiating off her, restless and tight, like her whole body is fighting the urge to run.
“It’s the only way.” I cup her face and force her to look at me. “He will never stop, Ella. Never. You know that; you know what he’s capable of.”
She goes still. Surprise or maybe confusion crosses her face, like I’ve said something she didn’t expect. Then she blinks, and it’s gone.
The dungeon gate creaks open. Footsteps and voices follow.
“We have to go. Now.”
I grab her hand, and we run deeper into the gardens. The castle looms behind us, windows blazing with light from the ball. Somewhere back there, Father is realizing the dungeon cell is empty.
I don’t stop until we reach the southeastern corner of the gardens. The Weeping Woods entrance rises before us, an arch carved into the imposing stone wall, ancient and foreboding. Unnatural fog rolls through the opening, thick and impenetrable, swallowing any glimpse of what lies beyond.
“Rye.” She’s gasping, pulling at my hand. “I can’t do this—”
“Listen to me.” I turn to face her, gripping her shoulders. “There’s a reason the nobles and royals always survive. There are safe houses hidden throughout the Weeping Woods. They’re stocked with food, water, weapons—everything we need. We just have to move between them.”
Her eyes widen.
“The first one is about a half mile in, due north.” I’m reciting it from memory now, the instructions Hayes drilled into me.
“There’s a ravine with a boulder at the bottom.
On the eastern side of the rock face, look for a knot in the stone.
Press it in, turn it left twice, then right once.
You’ll hear a click, then the door opens. ”
I watch her absorb it.
“That’s all I have.” I grip her shoulders tighter. “But the safe houses are real. Every noble who’s survived knows about them. It’s how the royals and high-born always make it out.”
“And if you don’t come?” Her voice is small in a way I’ve never heard from her. “If something goes wrong?”
“Ella.” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I will always come for you. We’ve established that already.”
That look crosses her face again. Something about her feels different, and I can’t pin it down. But after the dungeon, the tears, the terror of tonight, of course, she feels different in my arms.
“First light,” I promise.
“First light,” she whispers.
I pull her to my chest and breathe her in, letting the wildflowers and sea breeze settle over me, but the ember-warmth is heavier than it should be, sitting at the front instead of threaded underneath where it belongs.
I hear the footsteps closing in. Nothing matters right now except getting her safe.
“Go.”
She holds my gaze for one more breath. Then she turns and walks into the Weeping Woods without looking back. I stand there with chest heaving, watching the fog swallow her whole.
I stay rooted to the spot long after she’s gone, using everything in me not to run in with her.
But I can’t. If I disappear, he’ll send every guard in the kingdom after her.
The only way to protect her now is to walk back and face Father.
I turn back toward the castle, forcing my breathing to slow, forcing my face into something calm and unreadable.
I find them near the rose arbors. Father is flanked by two guards.
Hayes is pale and shaking. Finn’s eyes are searching the gardens.
I can feel his panic from here, and every instinct I have is screaming to look at him, to give him a nod, a glance, anything that says she’s okay.
But I can’t, not with Father’s eyes on me.
I keep my gaze straight ahead. Father sees me first.
“Ryewood.” His voice is ice. “Where is she?”
“Gone.”
Father’s face shifts from disbelief to rage, and he draws a slow breath in through his nose before cold calculation replaces them both.
“You let her go,” he says with a calmness I know is lethal. “You let a traitor walk free.”
“I put her in the trials.”
Everyone goes still at the same time. Father stares at me as Hayes’s head snaps up, and Finn freezes mid-breath.
“You did what?” His calmness is cracking.
“It was the best option.” I keep my voice steady, the way he taught me. “If word spreads that a rebel infiltrated the castle, got close to your sons and walked freely through the royal wing, the nobles will see it as weakness. A crack in your power.”
Father’s jaw locks, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“This way, it’s just a lovers’ quarrel. The prince, infatuated with a pretty commoner. She got too close, and things ended badly.” I force a shrug. “Embarrassing for us, yes, but not a threat to the crown.”
The silence stretches, and I can feel Hayes and Finn both staring at me.
I don’t look at either of them. Father holds my gaze for a long time, weighing me with that unnerving assessment I’ve known my whole life.
Then his expression changes. It’s not approval; he’s not capable of that.
Recognition, maybe. The look of a man who’s just realized his son might be more dangerous than he thought.
“Fine.”
He turns and walks away, with the guards falling into step behind him. He doesn’t look back when he says, “But ensure she doesn’t make it out of the trials, Ryewood.”
My blood turns to ice. I had known he was going to say something like this, but hearing him order her death like it’s nothing makes my body rigid with the effort of not lunging after him.
My hands are shaking, and I clench them into fists to hide it.
I’d burn the whole kingdom down before I let that happen.
“Of course, Father,” I hear myself say. The words make bile rise in my throat.
He disappears into the darkness without another glance.
Grier materializes from the shadows. I didn’t hear him approach; clearly he wasn’t just nearby. He was hiding and waiting for the king to clear before he moved. He tips his head toward the gardens without a word. Finn and I follow.
Finn’s expression breaks.
“Where is she?” His voice is hoarse, his throat already bruising, with purple marks blooming against his skin where Father’s vines strangled him.
“The trials. I sent her to the first safe house.”
I’m already moving toward the Weeping Woods entrance. I need to find her, make sure she’s okay—
The grip comes out of nowhere, locked around my forearm, jerking me back a full step.
“Rye. Stop,” Finn rasps.
“I have to get to her—”
“The King is watching.” His voice drops low and urgent. “If you disappear into the trials hours before you’re supposed to enter, he’ll know you lied. He’ll send guards; he’ll send Voss. You’ll lead them right to her.”
I want to argue. Want to rip my arm free and run into that fog and never look back. But I see the same fear carved into his face. He’s her brother. Stones, he’s right.
Grier steps forward. “I’m coming with you.”
“Grier—” Finn starts.
“Don’t.” Grier’s voice is steel. “I’m going. That’s final.”
Finn opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. We both know there’s nothing that would stop Grier from coming with us.