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Wanted to observe her. Question her. Test her.

I tugged my sleeve straight, preparing to head home, and froze.

A single red hair clung to the dark wool, fine as spider-silk. I tried to brush it away, but it clung stubbornly, as if the hair itself had marked me.

Lily.

She'd looked at me this morning like I was something other than a hunter. Like I was just. . . August.

And now I had to bring her to a dinner where my father would dissect her every word and movement, searching for signs she stood with the Weavers, not the hunters.

I caught the red hair between my fingers, but it slipped away like water. Like a thread I couldn't hold onto no matter how hard I tried.

CHAPTER 27

LILY

Aday had passed since the library. Since August’s kindness. Since we’d almost kissed.

I'd spent those days away from the house, away from him. But evenings offered no escape—with the upcoming party, I needed to get my story straight on where I came from.

August was particularly good at coming up with a back story. But something at the library changed him. He spoke more softly, lingered longer. It was as if the man who could break necks without blinking had begun to practice gentleness instead.

Part of me wanted to believe that man was real. That he could be more than a Hunter. But belief was dangerous. So, when daylight came, I sought solace elsewhere.

The Weavers had become my refuge.

The woods had become familiar in a way I hadn’t expected. The tangled roots, the whispering leaves, the way the sun filtered through the trees in golden streaks—nothing about it seemed foreign. This was somewhere I belonged.

Or it was just the people.

Marigold skipped ahead of me on the narrow path, her curls bouncing, her small hands clutching the satchel slung across her chest. She had spent the last ten minutes attempting to convince me she could walk the entire way to the Weavers’ camp with her eyes closed.

“You’re going to trip,” I warned, watching as she narrowly avoided a root jutting from the ground.

“No, I won’t,” she chirped, keeping her eyes firmly shut. “I know this path better than anyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And besides, if I fall, you’ll catch me.” She cracked one eye open and shot me a wide, gap-toothed grin.

I sighed, shaking my head, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “And what if I don’t?”

She gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Then I will haunt you forever.”

I snorted. “You’d haunt me?”

“Absolutely.” She nodded, eyes still shut. “I’d move all your things when you weren’t looking. Make the floor creak at night. Whisper your name from the shadows.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

She giggled, then yelped as her foot caught on a loose stone. I grabbed her arm before she could hit the ground, steadying her with a firm grip.

She blinked up at me, sheepish. “Okay, perhaps I should stop walking blind.”

“You think?”

Marigold grinned, squeezing my hand once before darting ahead again, chattering about how she was going to be the best Weaver one day—better than Ysella, even.