Josie
I was dreaming again.
Only this ti, it wasn’t the usual blur of faceless mories or the falling sensation that always left breathless. No—this was sharp, vivid, cruel.
My mother’s eyes—wide, frantic—stared into mine like I was so kind of demon. Her lips moved too fast, words tumbling out like shattered glass.
"You should never have been born."
And then my father, heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards as he stepped into view, gripping a hamr in his fist like it was the key to saving his soul. Or destroying mine.
I tried to run, but my legs didn’t work. I was frozen, stuck in place, screaming silently while the hamr raised—
And fell.
***********
I woke up gasping, hair glued to my forehead, my heart slamming against my ribcage like it was trying to escape.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
Sothing was ringing.
I turned toward the sound, still dizzy and disoriented. The dream clung to my skin like cold sweat. It took a few more seconds to realize it wasn’t a part of my nightmare. It was my phone.
My hand shot out blindly toward the vibrating device on the nightstand. My fingers brushed the screen, and I blinked until the na ca into focus.
Marcy.
For a mont, I just stared at it, confused. The last thing I rembered was sitting beside Kiel. His arm had been warm. His voice had been soft. I had leaned against him and—nothing. I must’ve fallen asleep there.
But now I was in bed, and the scent of cedarwood clung faintly to my sheets.
"Kiel..." I muttered, but the phone buzzed again, louder this ti.
I picked up, voice hoarse. "Hello?"
"Finally!" Marcy practically shouted in my ear. "Are you up? Shopping, yes? I need caffeine, Josie, and the caffeine needs ."
I squinted at the sunlight filtering through the window. "Marcy," I said flatly, "I’m not at my parents’ place anymore. Rember?"
There was a beat of silence.
"Oh," she said, voice dropping into a hesitant, sheepish register. "Right. Yeah. That... slipped my mind."
Awkward. The word practically oozed from the air between us.
"I an, it’s not like I forgot-forgot," she rushed on. "It’s just, you know, habits. But hey, whatever! I’ll be at the pack house in ten."
"What—wait, no, Marcy, don’t—"
But the line was already dead.
I stared at the phone like it had betrayed .
Ten minutes? I was barely even looking human right now. My dream still hovered in the corners of my mind like smoke I couldn’t blow away.
Before I could groan properly, the door creaked open, and I froze.
A maid stood there, looking far too cheerful for this early in the day. She held a tray full of food—eggs, toast, fruit, and sothing that slled suspiciously like bacon—and I could swear I heard my stomach actually growl.
"Breakfast, Miss Josie," she said with a polite nod, walking over and setting it down on the desk by the window.
"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to gather the tattered remnants of my dignity.
Before she turned to leave, she glanced at the tray. "Oh, there’s a note."
She pointed, then slipped out without another word.
I approached the tray warily, snatching the folded slip of paper like it might bite . The handwriting was annoyingly familiar.
"Eat up, sunshine. We can’t have you fainting all over the place like a Victorian novel character. —Kiel"
My cheeks went up in flas. I actually blushed. Loudly. My inner organs did a sorsault as I crumpled the note and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket.
"Victorian novel character? Really?" I muttered to myself, though I was secretly smiling.
After breakfast—and one of the best cups of coffee I’d had in a while—I threw on a hoodie and jeans. Despite Thorne’s warnings, and the fact that I hadn’t seen a single guard last night, I needed air. Real, clean, flower-drenched air. The kind that only ca from walking around places I wasn’t technically supposed to be.
So I slipped out and wandered toward the gardens.
I found him there, like so kind of fairytale mirage—Varen, standing beneath a tree with golden petals falling all around him. The sun made his white shirt almost glow, and I had to remind myself to blink.
"You’re up early," he said, smiling softly as he turned to face .
"You too."
"You look beautiful."
The words hit like a wave, unexpected and way too warm. For a second, I felt safe—so safe—with him standing there, looking at like I was the only real thing in the world.
I had the insane urge to let him hold .
But I stepped back instead.
"I—uh—I should probably—" I gestured vaguely at the path behind . "You know. Not look like I’m clinging."
His expression fell, and instantly I hated myself for it.
"I’m sorry," he said quickly. "For the fight with my brothers. And for everything after. You’re not... an object. Or sothing to fight over. You’re one of the most amazing won I’ve ever t. You’re my mate, Josie."
My heart did this weird fluttery-panic-lurch thing.
"You don’t know ," I said, more sharply than I ant to.
His eyes didn’t flinch. "Then give the chance to."
He dropped to one knee.
I stared, completely blindsided.
And then he reached into his shirt pocket—because apparently, this man was part magician—and pulled out a flower. A delicate, pink-and-white bloom with petals so soft they looked unreal.
"For you," he said, offering it up. "And... for the date I’m about to ask you on."
"I..."
"I know it’s sudden," he added quickly, "but there’s this spy-thed event in the city tomorrow night. People wear masks and don’t use real nas. There’s music, mystery, terrible dancing. It’s harmless, I swear."
I opened my mouth, absolutely speechless.
The flower hovered in the air between us, and he looked up at —not like a prince asking for a yes, but like a boy with hope in his hands.
And then—
"Oh, hell no. I knew it. I knew you’d sneak out and find a garden full of hot n without !"
Marcy’s voice shattered the mont like a dropped glass.
I spun around to see her stalking down the path in jeans, heels, and a rage-fueled stride.
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or faint.
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