Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alice
I lowered myself back onto the cot, my legs too weak to hold me. But my eyes never left Grump.
He stood rigid, staring at nothing—processing, calculating. Then something shifted in his face. The grief hardened into resolve.
He glanced at his brothers. “We can’t let our sister die. Or Flint and Steel. We need to intercept them before they get to Whispering Hollow.”
“We must leave now,” Rabbit said, wringing his hands. “You need to ambush them at nightfall. It’s the only way.”
“Agreed,” Grump said. He was already moving, signaling to his brothers.
I gripped the edge of the cot and forced myself upright. The room tilted. “You need me. I can stop them.”
“No.” Darius stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You’re too weak. If we get caught, the queen will take you.” His silver eyes burned into mine. “I won’t let that happen.”
I wanted to argue. To shove past him and prove I wasn’t some fragile thing that needed protecting.
But the look in his silver eyes stopped me. This wasn’t about control. This was about a man who’d already almost watched me die once today.
Grump glanced over at us, his gaze hard. “You both need to stay back.”
Darius went rigid beside me. “I’ll not leave any of my men behind.” His hand curled into a fist, knuckles whitening, as if he were already bracing for battle.
“You’re still recovering from the poison.” Grump’s tone left no room for argument. “And she—” He looked at me, and something flickered in his eyes. Something raw and unguarded. “She needs protection.”
His daughter. He meant his daughter. Me.
My chest tightened.
“I can protect myself,” I said, even as my legs trembled beneath me.
Grump ignored me. His focus stayed on Darius. “She’s barely standing. If the queen’s soldiers find this place while we’re gone—if Ari tracks her here…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.
Darius’ jaw clenched. I could feel the war raging inside him—the need to fight, to rescue his men, battling against something else. Something that made him glance down at me.
“Stay with her,” Grump said. Not a command. A plea. “Keep my daughter safe.”
My throat tightened.
Only Tinker Bell had ever showed such care for me. And now here was a man who had never known me, who had barely accepted me—asking someone to keep me safe. Claiming me as his daughter.
And Darius, standing in front of me like a shield.
I’d watched this before. Angelo fighting for Serenity. Enzo ready to burn the world for Joy. I’d envied them—ached for something I never thought I’d have.
Now it was happening to me.
And I didn’t know what to do with it—the shock, the warmth, the sheer impossibility of being chosen.
Darius exhaled slowly. His fists uncurled. “You bring them back. All of them.”
“We will.” Grump nodded once. “You have my word.”
Rabbit never fully entered the cave. He lingered by the entrance, shifting his weight from foot to foot as if the stone itself might burn him. He kept wringing his hands or glancing at his pocket watch, pale eyes darting toward the passage behind him.
I half expected him to blurt, “I’m late. I’m late for a very important date.”
A man named Rabbit. In any other world I would’ve laughed—but even here, I couldn’t help feeling a spark of amusement.
I sat on the bed, still too weak to move.
All I could do was watch as the Uncrowned moved quickly—gathering weapons, stuffing supplies into packs, trading low-voiced plans I couldn’t catch.
The cavern that had felt like a refuge now buzzed with tension, everyone preparing for a fight I wasn’t allowed to join.
Grump stopped in front of me. For a moment, he just looked at me—his daughter, still a stranger, too weak to stand on her own.
“Rest,” he said gruffly. “We’ll be back before dawn.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Then they were moving. Grump first, his brothers falling in behind him. Caterpillar drifted past, smoke trailing in his wake. Even Chester followed, his usual grin replaced by something sharp and focused.
One by one, they disappeared through the entrance.
Darius stood next to me, still gripping his sword. His jaw was tight. His eyes never left the passage until the last footsteps faded into silence.
We were alone.
Darius headed over to the entrance and placed his hand on the stone, staring into the darkness where the others had disappeared.
“Are you going to follow them?” I pushed myself up, refusing to be a burden, but my arms gave way and I collapsed back onto the cot. Heat flushed through me—not from effort, but from pure frustration. I wasn’t meant to sit here and do nothing.
He glanced over at me. “No. As much as I want to be out there, you’re the most precious thing right now. We can’t afford to have you captured.”
“We?” As in the Uncrowned. As in a unit. As in I was part of something—not an outsider or a liability.
He crossed back to me, that smoldering heat returning to his silver eyes. “No. Not we.” He sat on the edge of my cot and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I can’t afford to lose you.”
I scanned the grotto. Without the Uncrowned filling the space, it felt cavernous. Empty. The fire crackled in the silence, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Somewhere, water dripped a slow, rhythmic echo that only made the quiet feel heavier.
“What do we do now?”
Darius sheathed his sword and walked back toward me, his boots soft against the stone. “Wait.” He sank onto the cot across from mine, elbows on his knees. “That’s all we can do.”
I hated that answer. Hated sitting here while the others risked their lives. While Grump’s sister waited in chains for an executioner’s blade. I wasn’t battle-ready—but I could still watch, listen, keep us from getting ambushed. I wasn’t useless.
“Do we stand guard?”
“The grotto is well defended.” His silver eyes scanned the entrance, then returned to me. “It would be difficult for anyone to enter without us knowing. And if they do—” He nodded toward the far wall. “We hide in the armory.”
The armory.
Heat flushed down my neck before I could stop it. The armory where he’d kissed me. Where his hands had slid down my back, and I’d forgotten how to breathe. Where we’d been interrupted before things went further.
We were alone now. Truly alone. Anything could happen.
My limbs felt like wet sandbags, my body too weak to do more than sit upright—but my mind was racing anyway.
As if reading my thoughts, Darius’ lips curved—just slightly. But his voice stayed steady. “You need to get some more rest.”
I held my head up high. “I can fight.”
“You’re spent, Alice.” He leaned forward, his gaze softening. “Rest now. Fight later. That’s what every warrior knows.”
“I’m a warrior.”
“You are.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.
I gave him a brief smile.
He brushed his lips over mine—soft, lingering. “Rest. I might need you later, and I need you alert.”
I sighed and gave in. It was pointless to argue. My body was spent. Tinker Bell always said magic drained you, and I’d used up everything I had on the harpy.
I stretched out on the cot, letting my eyes stay on Darius. He stood with his sword in hand, facing the door. I took in his magnificent form—the broad shoulders, the muscles that rippled with the slightest movement. He put his hat on and paced back and forth like a panther guarding his mate.
Mate. The word surfaced unbidden. He kept saying I was his. You’re mine. Always. Was that what he meant? Was that what I was to him?
The thought should have scared me. Instead, it wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
Weariness finally won, and I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke to the cot sagging beneath me. Darius sat on the edge, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Even in the dim light, I could see the exhaustion carved into his face—the shadows under his eyes, the pallor beneath his skin.
Shame pooled in my chest. He looked like he’d been through hell while I lay here doing nothing.
I slowly sat up and stretched, my muscles stiff but no longer screaming. “How long have I been asleep?”
He dropped his hand but kept his focus on the door. “About six hours.”
Six hours. And he’d been standing guard the whole time.
“And you haven’t slept?”
“No.”
The poison. He was still fighting it; I could see it in the slight tremor of his hands, the way he held himself too still. I could stop time, but I couldn’t heal. Not like Serenity could.
“You need to rest.” I swung my legs off the cot. My muscles still ached, but they held. “I’ll take over.”
He sighed. “We’re not having this conversation again.”
“This is different. You made me rest—”
“And now I’m making sure you stay safe.” His silver eyes finally met mine, weary but unyielding. “That was the deal, Alice.”
“I know.” I cupped his cheeks, his stubble rough against my palms. His skin was warm—too warm. The poison was still working through him, whether he admitted it or not. “Now it’s my turn to keep you safe.”
“Alice—”
“You’re burning up.” I brushed my thumb across his cheekbone. “You need rest as much as I did. Maybe more.”
His silver eyes searched my face. The argument was there—I could see it forming on his lips. The stubbornness. The need to protect me at the cost of himself.
I didn’t give him the chance.
I kissed him, soft at first, my lips barely grazing his, stopping his protest before it could form. He stilled—then his fingers tangled in my hair, calloused tips scraping my scalp, dragging me closer as the kiss deepened into something urgent and raw.
Hunger replaced exhaustion, sharp and startling as a slap, heat flooding through my veins like wildfire, and for a second I let myself drown in it. In him. In the taste of coffee and mint on his tongue, in the rasp of stubble against my chin, in the quiet sound he made deep in his throat.
When I finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“Rest,” I whispered against his lips. “I’ll keep watch. And if you argue with me, I’ll stop time and make you.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s fighting dirty.”
“I learned from the best.”