Page 125 of The Girl in the Forest

“Gods—open your eyes, Bedisa. Open your eyes.”

His pain was more than I could stand.

At least with my eyes closed, I didn’t have to see his face. See the devastation I knew was there, what I could hear, tearing his mental voice apart.

He was on his knees. Shaking.

On his gods-damned knees for me.

My mate. This dread lord. With the dark power to move landscapes. Remake the world. Remake me.

The sob that wrenched my throat should have drawn blood. Everything he hoped for, battled for—how much remained? Did he know? Had I shared what I saw with him?

Or had I only been with Amal—while she shared the vision with me?

It might… it might not be true, Noa.

Another illusion.

But no… the ice-crusted sea within me churned with the truth. The cold, cold hatred of the betrayed. The tears too bitter to shed for Julien, not until he’d been avenged.

Was this what the queens felt when their wolves were stripped away?

But if it was—it was not the kings I hated in that moment, but the bitter and selfish queens who had never learned compassion.

Grayson’s hands were on my face, and his mental voice roared through me. “Open your eyes. Take my energy, syphon from me. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you—because I need you to look at me.”

Hope drove my lashes upward and I stared at his beautiful face.

“Grayson.” I gripped his arms, spoke the words out loud. Made them real. “I saw her. Amal. This attack was a distraction. She’s in Azul… the archive. The book. The town. Everything’s gone.”

CHAPTER 37

Grayson

I’d forgotten how quiet the night could be without the sound of Noa’s breathing. How lonely, without seeing my mate’s body sprawled across the sheets in my bed, her dark hair a fan on the pillow.

I remembered now, as I sat quietly, committing everything to memory.

This was the first night in the past week when Caerwen relented, allowing me through the door to sit by Noa’s bed. Her stillness, silence, was a fist to my heart. How pale she was, the thin blue veins beneath translucent skin. The way she never moved, other than the slight rise of the sheet as she pulled in a jerky breath… then the endless seconds before she breathed again.

Purple shadows crowded the room. Night had fallen and the windows were black squares because the moon would not rise for hours. The faint antiseptic tang in the air reminded me we were in Anson’s private hospital wing, in Westvale. The safest—the only medical facility available to me. I scrubbed my hands across my face, rocked forward in the uncomfortable chair.

I should be grateful—because Anson offered his protection. Aine sent her nymphs—Caerwen and Effa.

I should be grateful—because Caerwen allowed me near my mate when she’d been adamant, barely visible as she said Noa burned herself out. Crossed too far beyond the limit of most failles. Caerwen wasn’t sure she could bring Noa back from the shadowlands where she hovered, lost deep in her mind.

Noa’s greatest fear. One I’d promised to keep from her, and then I sent her plunging headfirst into the depths.

I should be fucking grateful. Fallon was still alive, but facing months of recuperation. Levi would be fine. Laura might not be; her trauma from the Alpen hadn’t completely healed and her resilience gave out. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t. Not after what she’d been through emotionally, if not physically.

Wounds were wounds, whether or not they bled.

Mace struggled with his own dark pain, the same need for vengeance that burned in my gut.

Azul was gone.

Along with most of the wolves who lived there.

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