secrets, and like the m

ood, something floral that had died years ago. My father's lantern

d at the

reserves. No

nk, all pinned and crossed and curling at the edges. In the cen

lost daughter wakes be

cause beside the wall, on a

. My nose. Eyes the color of pale gold, my eyes, but

nineteen. On

re w

hands didn't shake.

y mother

my fath

pposed to

dn't

"She's n

d his ey

y legs gave out, because if I stayed st

line. A power older than shifting, the ability to reach

o control it. He's been waiting for m

The one with the amb

is father for six ye

n my fingers over the carved letter

stairs," I

es

he been at t

yea

dark. Watching.

ack up t

ing the tree line. He turned when I came up. In the

scar along his jaw that I wanted to trace with my thumb. He was lean and

the mark. The same

at it. T

," he said.

es

se. "

lked to him. Close. Clo

. "You've been out

es

sent you to

es

ied to him

my gaz

hy

oiding, careful. Lik

tchen knife because you heard something in the woods. You stood at the edg

"I don't re

s." He looked at his hands, then back at me. "I wrote my report. Said you were dormant.

years for a girl

the right thing," he said

ld smell him from here: pine, woodsmoke, somethin

ur wrists. At the

Seal," I said

t. "It appears when Fated Pairs come with

s." My voic

es

believe

known it for years. Like he'd

st again. "How long

ng p

id quietly. "Since

urteen, with a

ed. Warm. Ins

inst my thigh to make

eing to anyth

asking

compound. Twenty-three other women. A prophecy with my name

ot quite a smile. Som

ree women?

es

dn't tell

"I just..

ooked at

again. Told you,

another. Close enough that I had t

u don't," he said quietly. "It's

his gaze. "And I need you to understand somethi

nt. Those amber eyes. The firel

d. Soft. Like he was

e stepped ba

wrist. Not the mark. The skin beside it. His fingertips were warm.

eath

dropped t

I said. My voice di

here,"

to the door. Paused wit

ri

ha

ears old with a kitchen knife, and you told the dark to face you pr

l

t slamming, wrist burning, thighs pressed

n't s

ng. At the ceiling. At the ceiling. Anyth

lsed. Patie

. A mother I didn't remember. T

ears, watching over a girl he'd never spoken

side. Pressed my

e mark, to the forest,

's

y father's voice, low and urgent from the h

Al

ot outside, inside, somehow, like t

aughter of Selene. I'm not

use.

re for