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“Of what?”
“Of failing them. Of this.” I gestured at the woods around us. “Of whatever's coming next.”
“You want to know what I think?”
I nodded.
“I think August has been waiting his entire life for someone to give him permission to be good. And you—impossible, time-traveling, magic-wielding you—are the first person brave enough to do it.”
“What if it's not enough?”
“Then we'll figure out what comes next.” He leaned forward. “But Lily, Red, whatever you want to be called, you need to understand something. August isn't just choosing you over his father. He's choosing hope over despair. Future over past. And that's not a burden you carry alone.”
The words settled over me, and for the first time since we'd left, I could breathe.
“We're almost there,” Garrick said, and the horse slowed as the path narrowed further.
Through the trees ahead, I caught sight of the Weave—thin, carefully controlled spinning threads. The Weaver camp.
“They don’t know we're—”
The threads snapped tight around us—invisible, razor-thin filaments that caught the horse mid-step. The animal reared with a startled whinny. Garrick's arm shot around my waist, holding me secure.
“Don't move!” The words snapped out from the shadows. “One more step and the threads tighten. State your business!”
The horse stamped nervously, sensing the magic it couldn't see. I could see the Weave thrumming in the air—defensive, dangerous, ready to constrict.
“It’s me, Lily.” I called out.
The pressure vanished instantly. The threads dissolved, and a figure stepped from the shadows—Mira. Her expression shifted from defensive to relieved.
“Lily! Thank the god.” She hurried forward, then stopped when she saw Garrick.
“You brought a hunter?”
“He's with me,” I said quickly, sliding down from the horse.
“Garrick helped us save Marigold last night. He's trustworthy.”
Mira's eyes narrowed at Garrick, assessing. “Adeline's brother?”
“The one and only,” Garrick said dryly, dismounting.
“Though I'd appreciate not being strangled by invisible threads when I visit.”
“Then maybe announce yourself before riding into a hidden camp,” Mira shot back, but there was no real heat in it.
She turned back to me. “Adeline's inside with the Marigold. She'll want to see you.”
Relief washed over me. Marigold was safe. We'd actually done it.
CHAPTER 40
AUGUST
The men spread out, creating a perimeter around as we approached the forest’s edge. Hayes crouched beside me, revolver ready, his breathing quick and shallow. To my left, Davies checked his blade. To my right, young Thomson—barely eighteen—gripped his sword with white knuckles.
All of them ready to kill for me. Ready to die for me.
