The order in his voice was softened by something else—concern, maybe. Curiosity. Fear.
I held his gaze.
“I’m planning to survive,” I said. “With or without my family. With or without this curse. That’s all.”
He snorted softly.
“That’s not *all*,” he said. “That’s the headline. I’m asking for the rest of the story.”
My fingers twitched toward my side, then stilled.
I thought of unrolling the map on his desk, of the way his eyes would darken hearing there was a path—no matter how dangerous—toward the witch who’d ruined him.
He’d either chained me to the manor in response or insisted on going himself, drawing her attention sooner than we were ready.
Both outcomes were… undesirable."
I thought of my dream again.
A cabin.
Eyes like coal.
A man at the border, amused and dangerous.
