Maybe the stag-focused side of me would manage to keep me from freaking every time Lydian was near me, but it couldn’t stop the disgust his presence pooled in me—toward both him and myself. I still woke up screaming from nightmares about Lydian. Maybe it was dumb, but I thought they’d go away once he was dead. That the flashbacks would fade now that he couldn’t hurt me. But that hadn’t happened. The mental wounds he created still bled, and the scar tissue was still rough and pulled painfully in my brain. Not to mention other dreams where my family gave me their accusing looks or even worse, dreams where none of this ever happened and I was normal. Despite all I had here, I didn’t want those dreams to end.

Diaval stood beside me, hand hovering over my shoulder like she wasn’t sure whether the physical contact would comfort or trigger me. I nodded toward her, and she placed her warm, small hand on me. “If it helps, you’ll have me there as backup. And Seppo and Rosamund. When you tell him.”

I shook my head, unease flittering in my chest like moths. “No, it’s already going to upset him that you all knew about Lydian before he did. I need to tell him alone. It’s the only way I can make him understand.”

Midnight had long since passed, and I gazed toward the sky. It was still dark, though getting lighter to where the stars were harder to point out unless I really, really looked. Sooner or later, Soren would wake from his uncomfortable sleep in the chair to find me gone, and he would most likely panic because he was taking his role as concerned partner very seriously.

It was funny, some people called him the Ice King, said that his heart was frozen, that he was brutal and without mercy. Of course, all of those things were good by goblin standards and essential for the Erlking. How many people knew that under all that ice was something sweet, like sugar, that under the harsh ruler was a kind and compassionate goblin.

He would understand why I kept it a secret. He had to understand.

THERE WAS A candle lit when I entered the room again, and Soren sat by it, staring in the flames.

“You know if you do that for too long, you’ll start to hallucinate,” I said.

He stood, chair shooting backward. “I was trying to scry.”

“Didn’t know you were into magic,” I said. “Should I tell Diaval?”

“That’s who you were with, right?” he said. I nodded. “Thought so. I could smell her. She’s got a peculiar scent.”