The grip on my wrist was hot—actual, human heat—not silver. I gasped.
He stood there through the roaring river and the oppressive shadow of the faceless. Thorn.
His fire was guttering low and he was covered in ash, but his eyes remained unfazed. Like they had been a thousand times before, Amber was blazing and staring at me.
"Yours," he said again in a rough, almost shattering voice, but it wasn’t enough.
The silver wavered. The chant faltered for a heartbeat, the chains clinking rather than roaring. The head of the faceless snapped toward him as its shroud rippled.
"You shouldn’t be here." Rage weighed heavily on its stone-cracking voice. “The tether snaps. The wolf burns.”
Thorn didn’t flinch. Fire seeping into my skin as his hand remained locked around mine, a warmth I thought I
