“I am here to offer you a choice,” the Alpha King said. “You will close this establishment to rebel soldiers effective immediately, or face the consequences. ”
Milly stared defiantly back at the man who could break a table in two with a single swing of his fist. His presence filled the tavern with an aura so suffocating she could barely breathe.
But here at the Crossroads, title mattered not. For five years, her tavern had stood on neutral ground between the kingdom and the rebel lands, and this was her kingdom. “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “The Crossroads is neutral ground.
Has been for the entirety of the war. Now, if you want, you’re welcome to sit down and order a beer like any other customer. But don’t just stand there. You’re making my customers nervous.
”
Kenton Kenrath, the Alpha King, sucked on his teeth disapprovingly and glanced around the room. Only minutes before, Milly had been swabbing the bar, humming tunelessly to herself. She had poured her blood and sweat into every nail and board of this structure, built it from the ground up with her bare hands. This was her realm, and no Alpha King was going to change that.
“Is that your final answer? ” he asked. “Yes,” Milly said, lifting her chin deliberately. Their eyes met, and Milly refused to look away first.
“Have it your way,” the King said, gesturing dismissively toward his men. “Take the rebels outside. ”
The soldiers moved instantly, and Milly rounded the bar. “Hands off my customers!
Who do you think you are? ”
A commander at the King’s shoulder stabbed her finger at various individuals. “Him, him, her. ”
Three men by the fire.
A young woman near the back. And no, gods, no. Not Francis. Dear, gentle Francis, alone by the window.
He had been her regular for three years, with easy smiles and good tips, the closest thing to friendship this place allowed. “This tavern sits on crown land,” Kenton announced as his men worked around him. “This is neutral ground! ” Milly said, breathing hard.
“The ground under this roof is mine,” the King contradicted her. “Unwritten rules you made up are not law, and it is time to put an end to this charade. ”
Another man was dragged past her, struggling against the hands gripping his shoulders. Milly tried to reach him, but a soldier barred her path.
“This place has been peaceful for five years! ” Milly’s voice rose. “What’s it to you who comes here? ”
“Do you really believe this place is only used for drinking?
” the King gave her a disbelieving look. “Subterfuge and deception, smuggling, and fraternizing with the enemy. ”
Francis caught Milly’s eye as they dragged him toward the door. He gave her a single shake of the head and a finger to his lips before he was hauled out.
“If you’ve got proof this place is being used for anything else, then show it! ” Milly demanded. “Proof? ” Kenton gestured toward the door.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would label you a sympathizer. ”
Milly blanched. “I’m not a rebel. I’m a citizen of—”
“Which is why you’ll be spared,” the King said, and turned, marching out after the guards.
Millie rushed out after them, boots slipping in the mud. The rebels were being forced to their knees in a rough line, Francis among them. “Spared? ” she asked, her voice tight.
The first torch touched the east wall of the Crossroads. The flame clutched hungrily at the dry timber, climbing fast, and heat pressed against her face. “No! ” she shouted.
“You were warned,” Kenton said quietly. The second wall ignited. Then the third. The soldiers hurried around the house, torches in hand, birthing fire on her pride and joy.
Her home. She watched the flames devour her livelihood whole, and when she turned her gaze upon the King, he met it without reproach. While everyone was focused on the inferno, Francis darted forward. “No!
” Milly screamed, because at that moment, she knew Francis’s life would be forfeit if he attempted anything. But it was too late. Through the smoke and the chaos, he lunged and drove something small and bright into the King’s back. Kenton grunted, twisted, and seized Francis by the throat with one brutal hand, wrenching the blade free with the other.
For a heartbeat, Milly thought he would crush Francis’s windpipe right there in the mud. But then the King let him go, staggered backward, and dropped to one knee. “The King has been harmed! ” someone screamed.
Soldiers swarmed Francis, pinning him to the ground. He didn’t fight. Just fixed Milly with a look as if to say, “You’re welcome. ” He gave her a wink.
The knife dripped with a dark liquid, black as tar. Nightshade. A slow poison, rare, expensive. Fatal, especially to shifters.
“He’s been poisoned,” Milly said. “Nightshade. ”
“And how would you know? ” the commander demanded, her tone hostile.
“My mother was a healer. He won’t make it through the night—without proper care. ”
The King’s body went slack, and the commander caught him, barely, easing him down into the mud. “And your proper care, I suppose.
”
“It might be,” Milly conceded, “had he not burned my home down? ”
Another shudder ran through the King’s body. “He’s still your king. You have to do something,” the commander hissed.
A seizure hit him. His whole body went rigid, shaking violently. The commander rounded on Milly, eyes blazing. “For all we know, you orchestrated this.
”
Milly laughed. “How could I possibly have orchestrated this when I didn’t even know he would ever set foot here? ”
The commander hesitated, then said, “Name your price, healer. ”
Milly didn’t hesitate.
“Francis’s freedom. ”
“I can’t promise you that,” the commander said, her voice tight. “But the King is an honest man. If you save his life, he’ll listen to what you have to say, at the very least.
”
Milly took one last look at the Crossroads. She thought of Francis. She knelt in the mud beside the King and pressed two fingers to his throat. His pulse was feeble.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it. ”
She slipped the King’s coat and shirt open with her belt knife to expose the wound as they bumped along in a rough-hewn cart toward the camp. The commander, Hilda, sat watching Milly’s every move closely, one hand always poised on her sword.
Carefully, Milly pressed her fingers to the edges of the wound, drawing the first round of poison out. Black fluid seeped from the puncture, viscous and foul. “Will he live? ” Hilda asked.
“Too soon to tell,” Milly said. As she worked, something strange unfurled in her chest. A delicate warmth that settled beneath her ribs, spreading outward like heat from a hearth. She cast the feeling aside with great effort.
The only thing that required her concentration was saving Francis. To do that, she had to keep the King alive. By the time they reached the encampment, she had bled the worst of the poison. As the cart rolled to a stop, Milly grasped Hilda’s forearm.
“Francis,” she said. “Where is he? ”
“Alive. If the King lives, he’ll stay that way until his trial.
”
“I want to see him. ”
“No. Remember the deal. ”
They carried the King into the largest tent at the center of the camp, and Milly worked through the afternoon and into the evening, checking his temperature, cleaning the wound, watching for signs of further seizure.
When she returned to him that evening, she knelt beside the cot and examined the skin around the wound. A hand grabbed hers. Milly startled. The King was awake, watching her with warm brown eyes struggling to focus.
He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Eventually, he released her. “I’m going to continue inspecting your wound,” she said, keeping her voice level.
When her fingers made contact with his bare skin again, the warmth that had assailed her in the wagon bloomed in her chest once more. She shoved it down. “You’re the woman from the bar? ” he asked.
“What are you doing? ”
“Baking a cake,” Milly said without looking up. The King was silent, as if seriously considering her claim. “You’ve been poisoned,” Milly supplied helpfully.
When he sat up with a grunt, she put her hand on his leg to still him. “Don’t move. There’s still poison in your system. You need to remain calm.
”
He cleared his throat. “The tavern,” he managed finally. “It was a necessary measure. ” He said it clipped and formal, as if reading from a script.
He hadn’t even really apologized. Milly said nothing. “I will see to it you are compensated when the campaign allows,” he insisted. She met his eyes then.
“That won’t be necessary. ”
“Then what do you want? ”
“If you’re hell-bent on compensation, I ask only for the life of the man who poisoned you. Spare him.
”
“I cannot do that. He deliberately tried to kill me. ”
“Out of misplaced loyalty for me,” Milly said, her voice rising, “because you burned down my tavern! ”
The King’s jaw clenched.
“If I let this man off scot-free, I am giving license to all would-be assassins to take a pot at me. ”
Milly made an ugly sound. “I’m done for today. Move as much as you want.
Hopefully the poison will spread faster that way. ”
She made for the tent entrance, but his hand shot out and caught her wrist, pulling her back. “If you want to be angry, be angry,” Kenton said, his eyes fixed on hers. “You can yell if you want to.
”
It stunned her. She was furious, but if he asked for it, she would deny him it. He deserved nothing of what he asked for. “Your fever will spike tonight,” she said, twisting her wrist free.
“Get one of the other healers to deal with it. ”
She ducked out of the tent and did not look back. By the end of the first week, Milly knew where the clean water was stored and which of the junior officers would stand aside for her. The nightshade was responding to treatment, but slowly.
King Kenton’s fever broke each afternoon and returned each night. During those first three days, he did not try to speak to her again. Three days into this routine, he broke the silence. “You’re still here.
”
“Looks like the poison hasn’t affected your eyesight,” she replied. “Is there anything I can do to speed up the process? ”
Milly leaned forward slightly. “Proper motivation would help.
”
“The life of your king isn’t sufficient? ”
She gave him a withering look, and his mouth twitched. “You’re still hoping I’ll spare your rebel friend? ” he guessed.
“Just because he happens to be from beyond the border does not make him a rebel,” Milly said sharply. “Most people don’t care about your war nor want to be part of it. ”
“I understand you feel that way,” he said, and he sounded sincere. “But I don’t have the luxury to feel that way.
”
Milly rolled her eyes. “Peace isn’t a luxury, and neither is mercy. ”
He sighed, then leaned back slightly against the pillows. “For six months we tracked rebel communications through the border zone,” he continued.
“Messages passed through your tavern. Operatives sheltered there between missions. Supply routes were coordinated under your roof. ”
“Yeah, so people talked,” Milly said flatly.
“That’s what happens in taverns. ”
“Coordinated,” he corrected her, his voice patient. “Rebel soldiers arriving on specific nights. Leaving before dawn.
The same faces, the same routes. ”
“My tavern was neutral ground,” Milly snapped. “It doesn’t matter what they were doing. That’s the whole point of neutral territory.
Your own troops were also discussing their plans, I’m sure. ”
“I’m grateful my boys had somewhere safe to rest,” Kenton said. “But that doesn’t change what the rebels were using it for. I sent letters—warning you.
”
“Three of them,” she quipped, scissors snapping through fabric. “Ordering me to close my doors to half my customers. ”
“You refused to choose a side,” he accused. “Because there shouldn’t have to be sides!
” Milly sighed. “Some places should be allowed to just exist without your war crawling into them. ”
He was quiet for a moment. “I made the call I would have made for any such asset in the border zone,” Kenton said, “and I stand by the calculation, even if I regret the cost.
”
Milly put the scissors down. Five years of her life. Every nail she’d hammered, every stranger she’d sheltered. And he’d dismissed her home as an asset.
“Do you believe,” she asked quietly, “that telling me the math makes it better? ”
“Seeing the full picture always helps come to a logical conclusion. ”
“So, the full picture is supposed to make me agree with you? Or make me understand that my disagreement doesn’t matter?
”
He flinched. “I’m not just a number that can be paid off to keep her mouth shut with a smile on her face,” Milly said, the words coming out harder than she intended. “And I won’t be thanking you for explaining my own loss to me. ”
Silence stretched between them.
Then, “I was only trying to help you understand,” he said quietly. “Which is not the same as asking you to forgive. ”
The sincerity in his voice only made it worse. She didn’t want his understanding.
She wanted her tavern back. She wanted Francis free. “Millie,” he said. It was the first time he had called her by her name.
“You’re not just a number. ” His hand took hers, large and calloused. Her fingers twitched, a sudden urge to lean into that touch, to let the weight of the past week drain away. Then reality crashed back.
She snarled, snapping her hand back. “Don’t touch me. ”
She turned away, gathering her supplies hurriedly. “How do I fix it?
” he asked. She stopped. Did not look back. “I told you,” she said.
“Spare Francis. ”
Then she left. At dawn, she went back. Something felt wrong the moment she ducked through the tent flap.
The air was too hot, too close. The King was feverish and unconscious, his breathing shallow and uneven. “His fever spiked an hour ago,” the young healer said. “Go,” Milly said.
She dropped to her knees beside the cot, pressing her hand to his forehead. It was burning far hotter than it should be. The bandage was clean, no signs of fresh infection. She dipped a cloth in cool water and began to work, wiping down his face, his neck, his chest.
“You shouldn’t have left,” she told herself. “You knew he needed monitoring. ”
Kenton’s head turned slightly, a low sound catching in his throat. “You’ll be fine,” she said, quieter than she meant to.
“I’m here now. ”
Her anger was still there, but layered over it now was something sharper: guilt. And beneath that, quieter but impossible to ignore, worry. By morning, his fever hadn’t improved.
“You’re supposed to save him,” Hilda said accusingly. “Nightshade isn’t easy to shake,” Milly replied levelly. “And I still haven’t even gotten to see Francis yet. Let me see him.
”
Hilda’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Fine. ”
Milly pressed two fingers to Kenton’s wrist to count his pulse but was instantly distracted by that strange pull again. As if there were an invisible cord linking her to him.
She forced herself to concentrate. As she held his wrist, his pulse steadied. The moment she released him, he gasped in a wet, rattling breath, his back arching. She checked his pulse again.
It was racing, but as she held onto it, the warmth bloomed, and it steadied. “What in the world? ” she whispered. She dropped his wrist again, and Kenton started to writhe.
Before she could make sense of it, his eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused. His fingers wrapped around hers with surprising strength, and then his lips pressed against her knuckles. Heat flooded through Milly. He turned her hand over, mouth finding the pulse point at her wrist, lingering there.
“Stay,” he breathed, the word barely audible, but carrying the weight of a plea. Her thoughts scattered like startled birds. He’s delirious. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
But her body didn’t care about logic. The fever broke in the gray hour before dawn. Milly was still sitting beside him, her hand resting on his wrist. “You stayed,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“You asked me to,” she said, pulling her hand back quickly. For a long while, he was silent. Then he began to speak. “My father died three years ago.
Mid-campaign. I was twenty-six. He left me a war. No plan.
Just unfinished business and a council full of men twice my age who expected me to know what I was doing. ”
Almost without thinking, Milly reached out and placed her hand back on his wrist. The moment her skin touched his, something shifted. It wasn’t just warmth now, but feeling.
A wave of emotion washed over her—grief, bone deep and exhausting. She could feel him, not just the physical warmth of his skin, but the roiling emotions beneath. “I killed two hundred men in the first month,” he whispered. “Sent them into a valley my father’s general swore was clear.
The rebels were waiting. My men were slaughtered. ”
The shame hit her like a physical blow. “Why are you telling me this?
” she asked quietly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. And she felt the truth of it. He fell asleep a few minutes later.
Milly sat beside him for a long time, her hand still resting on his wrist, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. “I want to see Francis,” she said eventually. Kenton’s dark eyes searched her face. Then he nodded.
“You’ve earned that much at least. ”
Hilda led Milly to the stockade on the edge of camp. Francis was chained by the wrists and ankles, his clothes torn and muddy, his face swollen. They’d beaten him, often, by the looks of it.
Milly’s chest tightened as she knelt before her friend. “Gods, Francis, what have they done to you? ”
Despite everything, he smiled that same lopsided smile he’d given her a thousand times across the bar. “Milly.
You’re in one piece. ”
The warmth in his voice nearly undid her. “And you’re in pieces. ”
“I couldn’t just sit there and watch whilst he burned down your home,” he said.
Her throat tightened. He understood what it had meant to her. “What you did was reckless. You could have just walked away.
Found safety beyond the border. ”
“There are some things you just can’t walk away from quietly,” Francis interrupted, and when she looked up, his eyes were fixed on hers. He meant her. “I’m trying to negotiate for your freedom.
I’ve been treating the King. Saving his life. In exchange for yours. ”
“Thank you, Milly.
” He paused. “If you do manage to negotiate my freedom, I want you to come with me. We’ll rebuild in a safer place beyond the border. Somewhere the King’s reach doesn’t extend.
”
A fresh start. Somewhere far from burned taverns and impossible kings and strange pulls she couldn’t explain. She had nowhere else to go. The Crossroads was ash, her savings with it.
“You always did have a knack for knowing people,” she found herself saying. Later that afternoon, she returned to Kenton’s tent. He was sitting up, looking stronger than he had in days. When he saw her, he smiled, and his whole face transformed, the hard edges softening, those brown eyes crinkling at the corners.
Milly’s heart jolted. Heat bloomed again beneath her ribs. “You look wonderful,” Milly said too quickly, heat flooding her cheeks. “I mean, you look better.
I’ll check on you later. ”
“Milly,” he said, and the way he said her name made her chest tighten. “There’s something I need to tell you. ”
“I need to ask you something first,” she said quickly.
“Let Francis go. Please. Once you’ve recovered fully, just let him go. ”
The softness vanished from his face.
“I can’t. ”
“Why not? You said if I saved your life, you’d listen. ”
“I’ve listened.
But I cannot free him. Not while he’s still a threat. ”
“He’s not a threat! He’s a man who made a stupid decision out of misplaced loyalty.
”
“He’s a rebel,” Kenton said flatly. Milly froze. “No, he’s not. He’s from beyond the border, yes, but that doesn’t make him—”
“He is,” Kenton repeated, something like pity flickering across his face.
“We’ve known for months. He holds the rank of coordinator in the Compact’s intelligence network. He used your neutrality as cover. ”
“He wouldn’t do that!
” she drew herself to full height, but her heart hammered against her ribs. “I’m sorry,” Kenton said, taking another step closer. “But that’s the truth. ”
That pull.
That warmth she’d been trying to ignore for days. It flared, sudden and overwhelming. She saw the exact moment Kenton felt it, too. His eyes widened slightly, his breathing hitched.
“Milly,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Don’t,” she whispered, but it came out breathless. Their mouths met between them. The kiss was not gentle.
It was desperate, fierce, all the anger and confusion and want she’d been burying rising to the surface. He pulled her flush against him, and she gasped. Then reality crashed back in. She shoved him away, stumbling backward, her hand flying to her mouth.
“No. No, I—”
“Milly. ” Kenton reached for her. “You feel it, don’t you?
The pull. You’ve been feeling it since the first time you touched me. ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. ”
“You’re my mate.
” A terrible silence hung between them. “The bond between us. It happens between shifters and their fated partners. ”
“No,” she shook her head violently.
“That’s not possible. That doesn’t happen to humans. ”
“It’s rare, but not impossible. You’re my mate, Milly.
”
“You’re lying. This is just another way to control me, to take away my choice. ”
“I would never take away your choice,” he protested, looking hurt. “You already have!
” she shouted. “You took my home. You imprisoned my friend, and now you’re telling me I’m bound to you whether I want it or not. ”
“I swear to you, on my crown, on my life, I will not force you into anything.
The bond exists. I can’t change that. But what we do about it is still your choice. ”
She ducked out of the tent before he could say another word.
She went straight to the stockade, her vision blurred with unshed tears. She dropped to her knees in the mud in front of Francis. “Tell me the truth,” she said, her voice shaking. “Are you a rebel?
Did you use my tavern? Did you use me? ”
His expression closed, and she knew. “I’m sorry,” he said, guilt plain in his eyes.
“You’re sorry? I never wanted to stand against the King. I just wanted to be neutral. You knew that, and you used me anyway.
”
“Neutrality wasn’t an option,” Francis said, his voice hard. “It never was. You’re more than naive if you ever thought it was a choice. ”
Milly recoiled as if she’d been struck.
Naive. The word echoed in her head, mixing with Kenton’s voice saying asset and calculation. Everyone had used her. She turned and ran.
Milly didn’t leave her tent for two days. She wrapped herself in her cloak, staring at nothing. The King had almost recovered. She’d saved his life as promised.
Her work here was done. She could leave, walk out of this camp and start over. But as what? Before the Crossroads, she and her mother had been traveling healers.
The war had already been raging for years, turning the Borderlands into contested territory. Her mother had been hit by a stray crossbow bolt during a skirmish. The wound had festered, and her mother died in a stranger’s barn. The war had taken everything from her.
Milly had bought the failing tavern with what little money she had left and rebuilt it board by board. She’d given people a place to breathe, a place where the fighting stopped at the door. But had her idealism made her naive? Someone cleared their throat at the tent flap.
Hilda ducked inside. “Thought you should know. The King commuted the execution order. Your friend Francis will remain a prisoner until the war ends, but he won’t hang.
The King made the order official this morning. ”
“Why? ” Milly stared at her. “You’d have to ask him that.
His council wasn’t pleased. Neither was I, for that matter. ”
Milly sat very still. Kenton had spared Francis.
He had listened to her. By the third day, she’d made her decision to leave. She packed her kit and stepped out of the tent. The camp was busy, but no one stopped her.
She ignored the tug in her chest. She passed the last row of tents, the sentry posts coming into view. Beyond them, open road. A hand clamped over her mouth.
An arm locked around her waist, dragging her sideways into the trees. She drove her elbow back hard, felt it connect with ribs, but the grip held fast. Another figure stepped out of the trees—a woman, scarred and sharp-eyed, wearing the rough leathers of a border fighter. A rebel.
“Milly Voss,” the woman said. “You’re coming with us. ”
Milly woke to rough voices and the smell of damp earth. Her head throbbed, and her hands were bound tightly behind her back.
The scarred woman crouched in front of her. “My name is Romaine. You’re going to help us get Francis back. ”
“You’re going to exchange me for him.
”
“Smart girl. Among other demands—safe passage to the border, supplies, a formal ceasefire for the northern territories. ”
“He won’t agree to that. ”
“He will, if he wants you back alive.
”
At noon, Millie was hauled to her feet and marched to a clearing half a mile from the camp. They forced her to her knees in the center. The sun climbed higher, and her knees ached against the hard ground. Somehow, deep down in her gut, she felt him coming before she saw him.
Seconds later, Kenton stepped out of the trees, still pale, moving stiffly. Hilda walked at his shoulder. And between them, hands bound but seemingly unharmed, was Francis. Kenton’s eyes found Milly’s across the distance, and something fierce and protective blazed in them.
The bond surged in her chest. “Release her,” Kenton called out, “and we’ll talk. ”
“We want Francis released, safe passage to the border for all of us, supplies, food, medicine, weapons, and a formal ceasefire in the northern territories for six months,” Romaine listed. “Not happening,” Kenton said flatly.
Romaine gestured, and one of the rebels grabbed Milly by the hair, yanking her head back. A knife appeared at her throat. “Let’s try this again. The knife pressed harder against Milly’s throat.
She felt the sting as it broke skin. Kenton’s nostrils flared, and he took a violent step forward before Hilda grabbed his shoulder. Romaine’s eyes narrowed, flicking from the Alpha King to Milly and back again. “Has the ickle wickle king found himself a pet?
” She ran the knife in aimless circles down Milly’s neck. “She wouldn’t be your mate, would she? ” She burst out laughing. “I wondered why you came yourself instead of sending someone expendable.
”
“Let her go,” Kenton said, a tremor of barely controlled fury in his voice, “and I’ll give you Francis. No other conditions. ”
“And the rest of our demands? ”
“We can discuss them,” Kenton said, “after you release her.
”
Francis, who had been silent, spoke up. “Romaine, let her go. She’s not part of this. ”
“She’s a civilian,” Francis said, his voice rising.
“You want to spill innocent blood, too? ”
Kenton made his move. “I’ll negotiate a real negotiation, for a peace treaty, not a ceasefire. A treaty.
Representatives from both sides, neutral ground, terms that both of us can live with. But only if you let Milly go. Right now. ”
The clearing went silent.
Romaine stared at him. “You can’t be serious. ”
“You wanted the borderlands to be safe. I want the kingdom to be whole.
Maybe there’s a way to give us both what we need. ”
Francis looked stunned. Then he nodded slowly. “I’ll back that.
”
Romaine looked between them, then down at Milly. “Fine,” she said finally. She gestured, and the knife pulled back from Milly’s throat. “Send Francis over, and she’s yours.
”
Kenton nodded to Hilda, who cut Francis’s bonds and shoved him forward. Milly was hauled to her feet, her bonds sliced, and she started to cross as well. She caught Francis’s eyes, and he gave her a wink. She chanced a smile.
She glanced across at Kenton, who was fixing her with an intensely worried expression. Their eyes locked. And as she continued to approach, step by step, she lost herself in those soft brown eyes, steadying her fear. Then a rebel, a young man Milly hadn’t noticed before, lunged forward with a blade aimed at Kenton’s back.
“No! ” Milly screamed. She threw herself forward, shoving the King aside just as the attacker’s blade came down. Pain exploded across her side.
She heard shouting, felt hands grabbing her, felt the world tilt, and then Kenton’s arms were around her, catching her as she fell. “Milly, Milly, stay with me,” he said, his voice desperate. But the edges of her vision were already going dark. Milly woke to lamplight and the smell of clean linen.
Her side ached. She winced, and immediately a warm hand was placed on her shoulder. “Don’t move,” Kenton said, his voice low and careful. She was back in the camp, in a tent she didn’t recognize.
Kenton sat beside her, his shirt rumpled, stained with what looked like blood. Her blood. “What happened? ” she asked.
“You saved my life,” Kenton said quietly. “Again. You could have died, Milly. ”
The fear in his voice made her chest tighten.
“Thank you,” she said softly, “for coming to save me. ”
“How could I not? ” He finally met her gaze. “Milly, you’re my mate.
I would have burned the world down to get you back. ” The bond hummed between them. “I don’t expect you to feel the same,” he added quickly. “I know I can’t ask you to accept it just because it exists, but that doesn’t change what you are to me.
”
“What happened with the rebels? ” she asked, changing the subject. “Francis and I are working on negotiations. Representatives from both sides, neutral ground, mediators.
”
Milly stared at him. “You and Francis, working together? ”
“I meant it when I said I wanted to end this war,” Kenton said. “Since we’ve been awake, he speaks of little but your kindness at the Crossroads, not to mention standing up for you when that rebel had a knife at your throat.
”
Milly thought about Francis, about the betrayal and the years of lies and the fact that in the end, he’d still tried to protect her. Maybe it did count for something. “You should rest,” Kenton said, starting to stand. “Wait.
” Milly’s hand shot out and caught his wrist. “Stay. ”
He sat back down slowly, carefully. “I felt you coming,” she admitted, her thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.
“Before I saw you at the exchange, I felt the bond pulling, telling me you were close. ”
“The bond gets stronger when we’re near each other,” Kenton said quietly. “I’ve been feeling it since I first laid my hands on you,” she continued. “And I didn’t even like you back then.
In fact, I kind of hated you. ”
Kenton’s breath caught. “I’m still angry about the Crossroads,” she said, because she needed him to know all of it. “I know.
”
“But when I saw that blade coming toward you, the idea of you dying—” her voice cracked. “I couldn’t let it hit you. ”
Kenton leaned forward, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “You burned down my home,” she said.
“You’re stubborn and ruthless, and you make terrible decisions when you think you’re being practical. ” She watched his mouth twitch. “But you also know how to admit when you’re wrong. Rare in a man.
You spared Francis. You came for me. ”
She pressed his hand to her chest where the bond hummed between them. “I don’t know what having a mate means exactly, but I do know what I feel for you.
”
Kenton stared at her, hope breaking across his face like sunrise. “And what do you feel? ”
She rolled her eyes. “I feel like you’re an idiot if you even need to ask.
” Her voice went soft. “And I also feel like I love you. ”
For a moment, Kenton went perfectly still. Then his face crumpled, all the careful control he’d been maintaining shattering.
“Millie,” he breathed. She closed the last of the distance between them and kissed him. Gentle. Intentional.
A choice they were both making with open eyes. “I love you, too,” he whispered against her lips. “Good,” Milly said, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Because you owe me a tavern.
And I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. ”
Kenton laughed, a real laugh, bright and unguarded. “I’ll build you a dozen taverns if you want them. ”
“Just one will do,” she said, smiling.
“But it better have west-facing windows. ”
“For the sunsets,” he agreed. And when he kissed her again, slow and sweet, she let herself fall completely into him, into this impossible bond, into a future she’d never imagined but suddenly couldn’t wait to build.
