With a heavy sigh, Ever draws my stocking back up my thigh. When he stands, my skirts fall back into place, hiding my scars once more. He takes my hand without a word, leading me farther from the city. Further from the rules that govern us. From the thoughts and fears of others.

Until we are in a world that is entirely our own. One where a symphony of crickets fills the night with their song. Where moonlight paints the landscape silver. Where a lake stretches across the dark horizon, the starlight making the water look like a sheet of glass.

“It’s beautiful.” That word doesn’t begin to describe the serenity of this place. “How did you know this was here?”

“My mother used to sneak me over the bridge when my father was away on a hunt.” Ever’s fingers tighten around mine as he helps me navigate the rocky shoreline to where the water laps at the stones. The man is like a mountain goat, not slipping once on the algae-covered rocks.

I try to imagine a tiny Ever sneaking across The Divide, but it’s difficult to picture him as anything but imposing. “Tell me about her.”

His lips tug into the smallest smile, his eyes taking on a faraway glaze as he stares into the distance. “She was beautiful. Kind.” His smile falters. “Too soft for life in the forest.”

Soft, like me.

He slips his hand from mine to collect a stone from the ground. “She longed to live in Rosehill. Always claimed she had a Seelie heart beating in her Unseelie chest.” He launches the stone into the air. A few seconds later, there’s a quiet plop.

How sad that she wanted to live on our side but never had the chance. People should be allowed to live wherever they choose.

“I do not know why she married my father,” he goes on. “He used his fists when he was angry. By the time the chieftain found out, she could not be healed. My father was exiled the very next day.”

I cannot imagine how devastating that must have been for him, to lose his mother so tragically and at his father’s hands, no less. No wonder he was so irate over Ronan grabbing me.

“I’m so sorry, Ever.”

Wounds, even ones made long ago, may heal but the memories can still turn septic. Look at the scars on my legs. Because of what happened, I can barely stand to smell smoke from a fire. The nightmares that once plagued my dreams may not come as often as they once did, but they never completely go away. Haunting my mind with visions of my mother’s lifeless body covering mine. The stench of burned flesh. The unending pain.

Perhaps that pain is what connects me to this beautiful man. My brokenness calling to his.