Page 208 of The Trials of Ophelia

“And some magic to explore,” Jezebel added, locking her hand with her partner’s and sharing an excited grin.

And though the uncertainty worried me, at least that was a place to start.

Once the others had left and it was only Mila and me back upstairs, I looked around her temporary room. One that would no longer be hers.

“Are you going back to Damenal?” I asked.

She spun toward me, removing her ivy wrist cuffs and placing them on the dresser. “I don’t know what’s next,” she said.

And there was a question there. An open breath at the end of her sentence.

I took it. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Wherever.” I crossed the room and placed a hand on either side of her waist against the dresser, caging her in. “When the camp cleans up and the village is returned to its former residents, come with me, Mila. I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know if we’ll go back to Damenal or somewhere else, but come with me.”

Her eyes flicked between mine, considering. “I’m a general. Even while the army is disbanded, I might be needed.”

She wouldn’t abandon Lyria.

“You’ll keep the title.” I didn’t have to check with Ophelia to know it was true. “I’m sure there will be negotiations to be had with the Engrossians, possibly the alliance clans, too. The Engrossians will need a leader, and who knows what Barrett will try to do there. I’m sure Ophelia will welcome your and Lyria’s experience.”

Mila’s gaze held mine as her tongue flicked across her bottom lip, and I nearly groaned. She let out a small laugh, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

Mila nodded. “Yes, Warrior Prince. I’ll go on this next adventure with you.”

Leaning down, I came so close to kissing her that our lips brushed as I said, “Let’s make it one worthy of legends, General.”

Chapter Seventy-Six

Ophelia

The cells at the northern border of camp were where Lyria had taken prisoners since the summer. It was under a constant guard that had been tripled in the last hours, though the lone prisoner was too weak to fight anyone off. She barely held on to life at all.

Barrett stood outside, his black hair absorbing the pale sunlight, like some stark relief painted in pools of watercolor, the hues undulating as the wind lifted his curls. His green eyes were hard, sharp features stony.

Rebel sat at attention at his side, tense as his warrior. He’d apparently been waiting for Jezebel’s khrysaor outside Ricordan’s estate. He hadn’t left Barrett’s side since. Everyone else’s horses would return soon, knowing the trek to the mountains better than even we did.

“Are you sure?” I asked. He made this request once, but I wouldn’t hold him to it.

Barrett’s fingers curled in the fur along his wolf’s neck. The animal nudged his leg in response.

“I am.”

Lyria had set up the holding cells in a network of caves. Manacles were welded to the walls and iron doors secured them. All were gaping chasms now but one.

“Leave us,” I said to the guards at her door. “Get some rest.”

We didn’t need an audience.

Once their footsteps faded into complete silence, I swung the door open for Barrett. Kakias slumped against the back wall, dress torn and frame seeming smaller than ever, but she was more alert than I’d expected.

“Did he live?” she asked.

“Yes,” Barrett spat. Dax was currently sleeping with the aid of a tonic. He would have died were it not for Lancaster’s healing expertise. Even Esmond would not have been able to restore an injury of that magnitude.

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