It’s the dead of night; a waxing crescent moon bleeds over the woodland, capturing all the eye can see in its muted tones. The only sound that dares challenge the eerie silence is my heavy breath, which falls from my mouth in steamy clouds. Everything is cold except the warm trail left by tears that run down my cheeks. Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. Dead, captured, or a prisoner of their own mind. I am utterly alone.

The voice called me deeper into the Wood, but there is no sign of her anywhere.

My leaden legs wobble, and I rest my back against the trunk of a large tree. Looking up at the dark branches pressed against a starry sky, I wipe my face with a damp sleeve.

“I sure could use a drink with you right about now, Torrent,” I say softly. “Or a good idea, Lin, if you have one. Hells, I’d even take one of your reprimands, Lorna. Gods know, that’s probably what I need most.”

I lean my head into the bark and sigh heavily. “Are you still here? Do I search for you? Or are you up there…in the heavens, laughing at me?”

The wind whips through a pile of leaves in front of me. They dance wildly before they’re off to their next destination. I can’t help thinking this is a sign, the answer. They’re truly gone.

I swallow the sticky lump in the back of my throat. They died for me. Died so I could save Idalia and take her away from this cursed darkness. And I failed. I couldn’t even protect her from my own men.

How badly must they be treating her? The ones who taught me to hate her, to loathe her Verdanian blood.

“Sparrow,” I almost choke on her name. “Little Sparrow, forgive me. Forgive me for taking away your chance for freedom. For believing their lies and for not seeing you sooner.”

I miss her scent, her inappropriate laughter. I miss her eyes and how they change when she’s angry or embarrassed. The way she dances, her startling singing that I only got to hear once, and how her skin glows when sunlight laps over her face like it, too, wants to spend its days caressing her skin.

“And the thing is,” I whisper at the sky. “That I’d rather spend the remainder of my life hoping, begging, and dreaming of the day I could touch you than live a moment, even a moment, without you here with me. Close enough to risk the world.”

“Who is there?”

The mouse-like whisper sends me scrambling behind the tree. I hold my breath and hear the phantom voice again.

“Hello?” It’s a female, that of a young woman. She sounds hesitant and afraid.