Prince Orm steadied his horse but still leaned away.

“G—Giant!” He made the beast turn then took to a gallop, but Bonn stood to his full height and needed only a few thundering steps to break into a run.

The hill shook and within seconds, both the prince and the horse were carried in each hand.

Orm’s scream rivaled any woman’s.

The horse, Bonn put down gently; the prince, however, he dropped at Wyrn’s feet.

Wyrn gripped the bastard’s arm when he stumbled to stand and tried to run.

It wasn’t steady and the prince slipped away.

Father stepped out and caught him around the throat. That was enough and he carried Orm towards Wyrn, disapproval creased into his scowl.

“Are you happy now?” He looked up at Bonn and called, “Come down.”

Bonn was unable to answer, his voice would cause all sorts of trouble at this height, but he shook his head.

Everyone puzzled over why as they watched him scan his surroundings.

Wyrn was the only one uninterested in his intent. Instead, he watched the ground, his insides rotted and hollow.

He couldn’t—wouldn’t look at the princess, the one person he vouched for and had ultimately brought ruin to his family.

Bonn returned with a glass jar, upside down on his palm. That, another brother took. After he shrunk down again, he rushed to put the seal on his back once more to lock his magic.

The bleeding and bruised princess, Mother attended to.

“Come dear. We should see to those injuries.”

Wyrn was sure to look away once the woman was to her feet. She was a mess and as deeply as he despised her, he feared for her enough that his idiotic mind started making excuses for her—excuses he’d have to eventually tell his father. She hadn’t known what they were.

Mother was best to see about her, but Father instructed, “Get her inside. Now.”

The vanishing.

Wyrn answered that betrayal. “What does it matter now? This is partly your doing for calling that prince after you told me you hadn’t.”

For nearly a year since the princess’s arrival, something’d changed about Father. He wasn’t gentle necessarily, but he’d looked happy.

That was why he’d forgiven each and every mistake. Even the mess with the rabbit was met with a, “Well, it’s well-dressed at least. Wyrn, m’boy, that’s a fine and dedicated wife to be sure.”

As long as she was a nobody captured and brought here, Wyrn was sensible, Wyrn had potential, Wyrn had a kindhearted wife, and Wyrn’s words were to be respected.

That was no longer the case. Because Wyrn was a fool.

Even now, to argue, to cast blame, that was a coward’s course of action, but he could do no better—they were going to kill her. And they were going to make sure no one was ever this reckless again.

Still carrying Orm by the throat, Father marched back and ordered, “Get. Her. Inside.”

But she’d never see the light of day again if she went inside. In fact, she’d be trapped in a hollow under the table with the prince, and that blasted fairy. And they’d feast there daily until the banging all stopped.

Wyrn’s gut roiled and he nearly vomited.

“You called the prince,” he insisted, though he couldn’t meet the man’s gaze, “so you’re equally as responsible.”

His father towered before him, huffing and puffing. “Move her.”

But Wyrn refused. He wouldn’t. She hadn’t known what they were. Perhaps no one else had heard. The hearing of a succubus was unparalleled. That was how they’d known he’d called her princess. But Shaza still stood by the doorway, staring at the princess with her jaw dropped.

Wyrn could offer her something to keep quiet. This—this was possible.

He opened his mouth to refuse again, and Father said through gritted teeth, “I called no one.”

Their eyes met but the hurt and betrayal there stole Wyrn’s shock.

“And I’d hoped to spare you that humiliation, but you’d choose her over us and that is where you must stand—alone. Unhelped.”

Orm still attempted to struggle but flinched when he was held out.

“I told you I would not bring a prince here. And I would have let him perish for your sake, but how can I now? How can I, knowing you’d choose this woman over your family?

Wyrn trembled. Now the thoughts of the princess’s inability to hear what they were came with a greater sense of loss and panic. He had to think fast—he had to find a solution quickly before the man’s short bout of mercy faded.

Father threw Orm at one of his sons and ordered, “Put him under the table.”

The moment he took a step toward the princess next, Wyrn’s feet betrayed him and brought him into the man’s path.

“We’ll go. We’ll leave,” Wyrn insisted. “Right now. I’ll bring the two donkeys and a wagon, and you won’t see us again as long as you live. I promise.” He all but begged.

His father’s expression softened from sympathy to disgust. Wyrn was running, abandoning them, all for a woman who was their enemy, a woman who—as far as they were concerned—sent for her lover who now exposed them.

“Please,” Wyrn said, softer, “she’s all that I have. Don’t take her.”

Mother, still holding the princess close, let out a gasp. “Wait. What are you saying? You’d leave us?”

Wyrn wouldn’t look at her, instead, he went to retrieve his wife from her hold and brought her to his father.

“Please pardon her,” Wyrn begged.

Father said nothing for ages. But without this, a slight against the giants could be re-answered for generations—it was how the war with the fairies had started. Several spells protected their home—spells that had no effect on them but did strange things to others. Without the ruler of the giant’s words of forgiveness, there was no telling what would happen to Vadde.

Heart in his mouth, Wyrn waited.

Finally, Father turned his back to Vadde. Bonn hesitated but followed suit. Then another. Every male turned away from her.

Wyrn’s heart broke at the sight of it. His father glanced at him, waiting for the same action.

“Give her your back,” he ordered.

Wyrn refused.

One by one, the wives gathered.

Mother looked on the verge of tears when she met Father’s eyes and received a shake of the head. She glanced at Wyrn but once then turned to ask Vadde, “Child, please tell me what has happened.”

Vadde shivered for some time. Wyrn wasn’t sure if his own worry was making her unsure so he kissed her bruised cheek and whispered, “You must do this. You must answer her questions. She’ll help you.”

“Yes. I understand, but I’m not angry,” Mother said, and Wyrn tensed. His lips parted again and again but no sound left him. When had Vadde spoken? When had she answered?

But when he leaned away, he realized she was speaking but he heard nothing she said. Wyrn took her in then all around them. Everyone was nodding. Everyone understood her but for him…there was nothing.

Father let out a grunt. “I’m sorry. This will be better for you. I promise.”

Rather than betray his current situation, Wyrn watched Vadde’s mouth, that much he could make out. Perhaps he was listening to her too closely; maybe that was the case.

“Ask her about the fairy, ma’am. Please,” Shaza said.

After a moment, Mother told the princess, “You don’t understand what you’ve done. You are responsible for the life of a Fae. And we know it’s you because you are the one attacked. Where is the body?”

Whatever the answer, Wyrn could not hear. His breathing quickened with each second.

“The body,” Mother said, cutting her off. “We must neutralize it, or it will bring misfortune to whatever land it’s died on.”

Wyrn turned, rubbing his face with his right hand as he started to walk. Perhaps distance would fix this. It might do something.

“But I’ve told you! Why won’t you listen?” the princess cried. “I—”

And then her words were gone and Wyrn covered his ears and crouched.

Two hands held Wyrn’s shoulders and brought him to stand. His father’s eyes held hurt. “You can only hear her one more night before the spell takes her power to communicate with you but it’s best you turn your back on her now and make it instant. That way this won’t be as painful.”

It had started—the vanishing. Soon Wyrn could hear no cries from her, no pleas, no sweet words to further tempt him to abandon all loyalties to his family.

A giant’s sense of hearing was key. So, it hurt that this was the first point of attack.

Tears stung Wyrn’s eyes, and he stared the man down, loathing him. “Tell me how to stop the spell.”

He maneuvered Wyrn to face his wife who watched him with equal fear.

“I cannot stop the spell. Only The Living Goddess can, and she won’t with a betrayal like this.”

A tear fell from Wyrn’s right eye, but he staved off the rest. He wanted to ask for more details but feared it would set things in motion and he’d miss whatever chance they now had.

“She can still hear you, but you can never hear her again after tonight.”

Wyrn lost feeling in his body, even his father’s hands holding his shoulders faded.

The next tear he shed didn’t matter much. He was still determined. He told his father, “Then I’ll take her to The Living Goddess. With or without your permission.”

Inside, Wyrn was dying but he could see the anguish in his father’s eyes. Wyrn’s refusal to let go and follow their way had cut the man. Deeply.

“That is your right.” Father gave no emotion when he passed Wyrn, he paused long enough to warn, “When you meet the goddess, whatever happens, pray you can live it down.”