TWELVE THAROS
TWELVE
THAROS
The tunnel opens into a cavern I haven’t visited in years.
The bone hollows branch and fork throughout Briargrave’s depths, creating a network that predates the forest itself.
This particular chamber sits beneath the outer reaches, far enough from the Heartgrove that the King’s influence is muted.
The walls are smooth stone, worn by water that dried up centuries ago, and the ceiling rises high enough that I can stand straight.
“We can rest here.” I move to the far wall, put distance between us. “The Consortium won’t find the entrances. The forest has sealed them against anyone who doesn’t carry its mark.”
“And I’m with someone who carries its mark.” She doesn’t sit. Just stands in the center of the chamber, taking in the space with that assessing look I’m beginning to recognize. “Convenient.”
“Practical.”
“Same thing, in your world.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve spent so long making decisions based on necessity that I’ve forgotten how to make them any other way.
The binding requires certain things. The forest requires certain things.
Everything else has been trimmed away, cut back like overgrown vegetation until only the essential remains.
“The Consortium hunters,” she says, moving to examine a section of wall where old bones have been pressed into the stone like decoration. “How long until they reach the Heartgrove?”
“Hours. Maybe less, depending on how fast they’re moving.
” I settle against the wall, letting my body relax for the first time since she crossed the boundary.
The respite won’t last long. “The Binding Breaker is slowing them down—it’s heavy, and the runes need constant attention.
But once they breach the outer defenses... ”
“Game over.” She traces a finger along a skull embedded in the stone, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You said the King feeds on violence. On vengeance. What happens if they bring that much bloodshed to the Heartgrove?”
“The King breaks free.” Saying it out loud makes it real.
Makes it inevitable. “I’ve been containing it through the binding, using my will to keep it anchored.
But will has limits. If the Consortium brings enough death, enough rage, enough of the emotions the King feeds on... my limits won’t matter. Nothing will.”
“So we stop them.”
I laugh. It sounds rusty. Wrong. “We?”
“Unless you have another army hidden somewhere in these tunnels.” She turns to face me, and the underground glow catches her face at an angle that makes her look carved from stone.
“You can’t fight them alone. You just admitted the King nearly broke through with barely two dozen hunters in the forest. What happens when ten times that many arrive? ”
“You’re proposing an alliance.” The word tastes strange in my mouth. “With the woman who came here to kill me.”
“Temporary alliance.” She crosses the chamber, stops nearer than she needs to. “You protect me from the forest. I help you eliminate the Consortium before they reach the Heartgrove. When it’s over, we can go back to trying to kill each other.”
“What makes you think you’d succeed?”
“I might not.” She shrugs, a casual gesture that doesn’t match the intensity in her gaze.
“But right now, succeeding at killing you would mean failing at staying alive. The Consortium wants me dead too—I became a liability the moment I didn’t lead them straight to your location.
And whatever’s in that Heartgrove won’t distinguish between bounty hunter and warden when it breaks free. ”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
“You understand what you’re agreeing to.
” I push off the wall, close the distance between us until I can feel the heat of her body, catch the scent that clings to her skin.
“The forest won’t see you as an ally just because I do.
Every thornpath, every vine, every root will be watching you.
Waiting for you to show weakness. One moment of hesitation, one wrong step, and I might not be able to save you. ”
“I don’t need you to save me.” Her chin lifts. Defiant. “I need you to point me at the enemy and stay out of my way.”
A sensation stirs in me. Not the King—a warmer feeling. One I thought I’d excised long ago when I accepted that the binding meant solitude. That protecting the forest meant isolation.
“The enemy is an army,” I say. “With fire weapons and siege equipment and enough bodies to overwhelm any defense I can mount alone.”
“Then we don’t let them overwhelm us.” She’s near enough now that I can see the individual strands of dark hair that have escaped her practical cut, clinging to her temples with sweat. “We hit them before they’re ready. I’ve spent years making bigger forces regret underestimating me.”
“And you think that will work against the Consortium?”
“I think it’s our only option.” Her hand comes up, palm pressing flat against my chest. I feel the contact like a brand, hot through the thin leather of my armor. “You can control the forest. I can read people. If we work in concert, we might have a chance. Alone, we’re both dead.”
Her hand is warm on my chest, and her eyes are fierce in a way that makes my blood run hot, and for the first time since the binding took hold, I want a thing that has nothing to do with the forest.
“You’re asking me to trust you.”
“I’m asking you to work with me.” Her fingers curl slightly, pressing into the leather. “Trust can come later. Or never. But right now, we need each other.”
The King’s voice whispers through my thoughts, distant but present: She makes you weak. Kill her before she destroys everything.
I ignore it.
“Fine.” The word comes out rough. “We work as a unit until the Consortium is dealt with. After that...” I wrap my hand around her wrist, feel her pulse jumping against my palm. “After that, we see where we stand.”
She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t break eye contact. Just watches me for another long moment before nodding.
“Deal.”
I release her. Step back. Force air into lungs that feel too tight.
“The tunnels lead to the outer reaches. From there, we can approach the Consortium’s position from behind.” I turn toward the exit, hiding whatever expression might be showing on my face. “Stay close. Don’t touch anything. And whatever happens—”