The car came for me at nine.

A guard in black stood on our porch and didn't bother to knock twice. "The King requests Miss Briar. Alone."

My mother watched from the stairs. She didn't say goodbye.

---

Ronan was staying in the old guest lodge behind the pack house. A woman led me upstairs to a room where clothes lay across the bed. Soft wool pants. A cream sweater. Boots lined with fur, exactly my size.

"How did he know my size?" I asked.

"His Majesty notices things," she said, and left.

I changed. The sweater was so soft I kept touching the sleeve to make sure it was real.

Downstairs, Ronan sat at a long table. Silver dishes covered it. Roasted duck. Bread still steaming. Little tarts glazed with honey and something red I didn't know the name of.

"Sit," he said. "Eat."

"All of this is for me?"

"Unless you'd rather starve."

I took a tart. Sweetness burst across my tongue, and I closed my eyes before I could stop myself.

When I opened them, he was watching me. His face gave nothing away.

"You've never had one," he said.

"We don't really do dessert at my house."

He didn't ask why. He poured water into my glass and set the pitcher down.

"I leave for Blackstone tomorrow," he said. "Will you come with me?"

I didn't think. I didn't need to.

"Yes."

His brow drew together. "You don't want to know what it costs? What I expect? What you'd get?"

"No." I put the tart down. "I'll work hard. I'll learn everything. I'll be a good Luna, I promise. You won't be embarrassed by me."

Something shifted behind his gray eyes. His gaze slid down to my hand resting on the table.

The sleeve had ridden up. Four purple marks circled my wrist, the shape of my father's fingers.

I tugged the cuff down fast.

Ronan said nothing. The silence stretched so long I heard the clock ticking in the hall. His fingers curled slowly against the tablecloth, then flattened again.

"Go pack," he said finally. His voice was rough. "Take only what matters."

---

There wasn't much that mattered. A few shirts. Piper's bent birthday candle. The blue handkerchief, folded small.

On my way out, Alpha Beckett caught me at the end of our street. He was gray at the temples and had always nodded to me when no one else did.

"Maren." He pressed something cold into my palm. A small bronze pin, the Cedar Ridge pine tree stamped in its center. "Take this."

"Alpha, I shouldn't—"

"You should." He closed my fingers over it. "I know what goes on in that house. I'm sorry I never did enough." His mouth tightened. "Whatever happens out there, Cedar Ridge keeps a place for you. Always."

My eyes stung. "Thank you."

"And don't let the King scare you." He almost smiled. "He looks like a winter storm, but he sees more than he lets on. You'll be all right once you're away from the Briars. Better than all right."

I pinned the badge inside my coat, right over my heart.

---

The royal car idled in front of my house. A guard held the door open.

I stood on the bottom step and waited.

The curtain in my mother's window didn't move.

"Celia's resting," my father said, coming down the porch. He stopped close and spoke low. "You remember everything this family gave you. A roof. Food. A name." His hand landed on my shoulder, heavy. "Don't forget who you owe."

"I won't, Dad."

"Good."

Grant leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed. He didn't sneer. He *smiled*, slow and easy, like a man watching his trash get hauled away.

"Safe travels, little sister," he called.

That smile followed me all the way into the car.

---

Back at the lodge, Ronan was waiting in the front room. I'd barely set my bag down when the door slammed open.

Two guards came in. One carried a bundle wrapped in cloth.

"Your Majesty. A word."

Ronan's eyes cut to me. "Upstairs."

"Is something wrong?"

"Upstairs, Maren."

I climbed. Halfway up, I heard them, low and clipped.

"Found under a loose board in her bedroom."

"And the family?"

"The mother gave a statement. The brother confirmed it."

Then a sound I'd never heard from a person before. Not a shout. A growl, deep enough to rattle the stair rail under my hand.

My wolf flattened inside me. *Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.*

I sat on the bed in my soft new clothes and waited. Nobody came.

---

At dusk, he knocked once and opened the door.

He'd changed. The coat was gone. He wore plain black, and his face looked carved out of stone.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"There's a private ritual. It has to be done before we leave Cedar Ridge."

My heart leapt. A mating ritual. It had to be.

"Should I change? Is there something I should wear?"

"What you have is fine."

He didn't take my hand. He walked ahead of me into the trees, and I hurried to keep pace. The forest grew darker. Colder. My boots crunched over frozen needles.

"Ronan? Is it much farther?"

He didn't answer.

The trees ended without warning. Wind slammed into my face. Ahead of us, the ground simply stopped, a ragged edge of rock and then nothing but black air and the faraway roar of the river.

I stopped walking. "Why are we here?"

He turned to face me.

"Kneel."

I laughed, a small, confused sound. "What?"

"Kneel, Maren."

The Alpha command hit me like a hand pressing down on my skull. My knees buckled. Rock bit through the wool.

"The mate bond," he said, "can't erase what you've done."

"What I've—what did I do?" I grabbed for him. My fingers caught his sleeve and twisted in it. "Ronan, please. I don't understand. Tell me. Whatever it is, tell me, I'll fix it."

His eyes flashed gold, then gray, then gold again. A sound tore out of his chest, half snarl, half something worse. His whole body shook like he was holding back a wall.

*He's fighting his wolf*, mine whispered. *His wolf doesn't want this.*

"Your wolf knows," I sobbed. "Listen to him. He knows I didn't do anything. *Please.*"

For one second, his hand trembled over mine.

Then he pried my fingers loose. One. Then the next. Then the next.

"You don't need to know."

He pulled his sleeve free.

The wind howled up from the gorge. My mark burned so hot it felt like a brand. I looked up at him through the tears and said the only thing I had left.

"My mate."

His jaw locked.

He put his hand flat against my chest, right over the mark that matched his, and pushed.

The ground vanished.

I fell backward into the dark, and the last thing I saw was his face at the cliff's edge.

He wasn't looking at me.

He was staring down at his own open palm, where something silver had started to bleed through his skin.