As if on cue, the carriage rolls into the street, the horse as dark as the night. The curtains are pulled across, covering the darkened interior. I twist my head in jerky motions, searching for an escape. But too many people will notice if I run. I don't even have time to run. The crowd shoves against me, assembling in front of the carriage. I stumble into Killian's back.

"I have to get out of here," I whisper, grabbing his sleeve. "Killian, Tetterman can't see me."

"You said he didn't see your face—"

"He didn't, but his son did." I let out a shaky breath, watching as his face shifts, dawning with realisation. "What if he's here looking for me?"

Killian's gaze darkens as he glances over his shoulder back at the carriage, the horn still ringing through the air between us. I stumble backwards, trying to shove to the back of the crowd.

"You have to get away from me," I say, "if he recognises me and sees you with me—"

"Calm down—"

"—I promised Trina I wouldn't let them know who the informants are. I can't risk—"

He grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look up at him. "Listen to me. Don't move. It's too late to run. You have to calm down."

I clench my hands by my sides, trying to slow my breathing, my eyes drawn over his shoulder as the carriage door opens. Killian follows my gaze, stepping sideways so he's beside me. I want him to step in front of me again, to block me from Tetterman's view, but before I can say anything, Tetterman has placed his feet upon the earth, his chin lifted.

He looks so different than he did in the forge. More important, less afraid. And his expression of disgust is better concealed.

"Good evening, residents of Veymaw." His voice echoes over our heads. "I am pleased to see you all celebrating the night prior to the Red Moon. I have come to remind you all to give yourselves to what the night wants. What happens will happen. If you resist, there will be dire consequences. I'm sure we would all like to avoid what happened last year."

My father. He tried to stop them from taking Samu.

Tetterman's gaze scans the crowd. My heart pounds as he gets closer. Jakob, Cadence, Cicily, Raven, Aleyx—one by one he scans. He pauses when he looks at me. My stomach tightens in fear. Instinctively, I hold my breath, right hand reaching for the dagger sheathed at my thigh. Before I can grab it, Killian catches my wrist, entwining my fingers with his own, so I can't access the dagger.

My breath is heavy as Tetterman stares at me, unblinking. It feels like a lifetime before he looks away, moving his gaze to someone else. But I still can't breathe.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," Tetterman finishes. "And as always, long live King Ereon."

The villager's echo his statement, and as he gets back into his carriage, the music starts up again. But it's too loud. My head pounds louder than my heart. Killian isn't holding my hand anymore, but I feel his hands on my shoulder, hear his voice saying my name. But it's too loud.

He was so close. I thought he would recognise me. I thought he did recognise me.

I look back at Killian. He looks concerned, his eyebrows furrowed as he stares at me. Why did he risk his life to help me? Why did he lie to Trina? Is it pity? Does he feel sorry for me?

"I'm going to find Casimir," I say, spinning on my heel.

I storm towards the trees, trying to block Killian from my mind. It's been a while since Casimir left in this direction, but if he saw Trina, they can't be too far away, and I have to get away from the music, the lights, Killian, because it's messing with my head.

"Hey!"

Killian calls after me but I ignore him, picking up my pace when I enter the forest, the air cooler away from the cluster of people.

"Freya." He catches my wrist keeping me from going any further.

"Let me go," I order.

"They're not here anymore. Casimir left with Trina. They'll be back later." He releases my wrist, stopping when I do. I stare down at his hand then back up at his face, wishing I could slap the concern away. Because it feels so different from the mocking grin, the glimmering eyes. It feels real.

"Why did you do it?" I demand.

He takes a small step closer, cautious. "Do what?"

"You know what." His jaw tenses as he stares at me, unblinking. "You saw me. You know I didn't kill that shifter and you lied for me. To Trina. I can't understand why."

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"You owed me nothing, and I've been entirely hostile towards you. So why did you lie? Do you pity me? Is that it?"

"Of course not." He seems offended at the thought.

"Then why?"

The wind rustles the forest around us, blowing his hair across his face. But he just stares, gaze holding mine even as the petal fall from my hair to my shoulders.

"Why?" I demand again when he doesn't answer.

"I would do anything to find my family." He takes a few steps closer, face stoic. "I wasn't going to be the reason you didn't get to find yours."

There's a pained look to Killian's expression, his eyes somewhere far away. My heart pangs as I recall Casimir's words of Killian's backstory. And as I stare at him, trying to read his unfathomable eyes, shame hangs over me as his words sink in. If Killian could find his family, he'd do anything. I thought I would, too. But when it came down to it...

"Why didn't you?" he asks.

"What?"

"Why didn't you kill the shifter?"

His question stumps me. Even Cas didn't ask, and it's a question that's hounded me ever since that night. Why didn't I kill the shifter? It wasn't a matter of choice at all. To say that I didn't kill him would imply there was a proper reason, but there isn't. There's a stark difference between choosing not to kill and not being psychologically able to.

"I thought I'd be able to," I say honestly. "Ever since last year, I've wanted to. But I... he, it didn't look how I thought it would. It didn't look like an animal, and it didn't look like it wanted to kill me. It looked scared." I shake my head. "The shifters have taken everything from me. I should've killed it. But I... I was..."

Weak. After what happened to my father and Samu, that's all that I felt I was; too weak to stop the shifters from taking Samu, too weak to try and help my father, too weak to emerge from the closet as I watched them destroy our cabin. Too weak to protect myself.

And so I trained. I believed that if I could fight, I wouldn't be weak anymore. But last night proved me wrong. I could've taken that shifter down; I had the upper hand. One small twist of my wrist, and he'd be dead right now.

I look up to meet Killian's eyes, the words on the tip of my tongue. They're terrifying to admit aloud, but there's something about his expression that coaxes them from me. "I was too weak to do it."

His gaze drills into mine. Shame burns my cheeks as I imagine what must be running through his mind.

"Casimir told me why you came to Veymaw," I say. "He told me what happened to the deserters. What the shifters did to them, to you and your family. He told me what you did to the councillor in Portson, why Trina trusts you so much."

He looks away, to the forest, so I can't see the look on his face anymore, only the strong line of his jaw. There are only several feet of space between us now, but I fight the beckoning of the gentle breeze as it calls me towards him.

"How did you do it?" I whisper. "How were you... brave?"

"What I did was not brave," he says sharply. "I brought Trina the councillor's head out of vengeance. He had a family, children."

"So did those that he caused the deaths of," I say. "He deserved it for what he did to the deserters. To you and your family."

"I don't think you truly believe that. Your words don't line up with your actions," he says. "If it were you, would you have killed him? If you stood opposite the shifters that took your brother right this very second, would you kill them?"

His words sting. The truth is that I don't know, and Killian pointing that out feels like an attack after I've just revealed to him why I couldn't kill that shifter.

"Do you regret killing him?" I ask.

"I don't regret anything. It led me to Trina and the deserters here, and I would do it again if given the chance. But that doesn't mean what I did was brave or strong or whatever you think you weren't."

Hearing him talk of death so casually, admitting that he would do it again, should scare me. But his presence in the darkness of the forest has the opposite effect.

"It takes strength to see the humanity in someone when everything inside of you tells you they're a monster." He meets my eye. "So no, Freya, I don't think you're weak because you couldn't kill that shifter. Quite the opposite."

He reaches forward, eyes somewhere far away as he brushes a flower from my hair, the tips of his fingers scraping against my neck. "That's why you're not a deserter," he murmurs, low. "Why you will never truly be one, no matter how hard you try. Casimir knows it, and so do I."

There's a distant look in his eye, his mind is somewhere far away stuck in a memory I wish I could access. I wonder if it's his family running through his mind.

"I hope you find your family," I whisper.

A sad smile crosses his lips, his fingers dropping to his side as his eyes stray to my exposed neck. He doesn't touch the bruises, but I feel the weight of his stare, and somehow, his gaze feels more intimate than any kind of touch.

"And we will find yours."

He raises a hand as if to follow the trail his eyes leave on my neck but thinks better of it and brushes a petal from my shoulder instead, dropping his hand back to his side.

"Ever since we met you've been littered with bruises and scrapes."

"Maybe you're bad luck."

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"If you hadn't got there when you did, I'm not sure I'd be breathing right now."

"I'm not talking about last night," he says. "I meant in the forest, during the storm. To prevent that." He gestures to my foot.

"To prevent me from falling over?"

He hesitates, dragging his gaze from my neck to meet his. "Right."

"We both know it can't have been from a fall," I say, observing his expression. But it gives away nothing. "You were the only other person there. Do you know what it's from? Who did it?"

He presses his lips together as I search his face. "It wasn't the storm that killed Jyro, was it?" His eyes hold mine, an internal war raging in his head. "Killian—"

"Casimir's coming."

I spin around; Casimir emerges from the trees, his eyes narrowed as he examines the space between me and Killian.

"All is well?" Killian asks, not bothering to create any distance.

I step away from him, moving to Casimir's side. "Yes. Everything is prepared for the Red Moon." He looks at me. "Let's go home. We have a lot to discuss."

I take the arm he offers toward me, looping mine through his. We brush past Killian, but his gaze holds mine as the distance between us grows. I tear my gaze away, facing forward and walking with Casimir.

Tomorrow night is the night of the Red Moon.

One year since they murdered my father.

One year since they took my brother.

But this year, it's my turn to take something. And as I glance over my shoulder to the now empty space where Killian and I stood, his words echo in my head like a victory song.

And we will find yours.

~

DISCUSSION:

Do you agree with Killian in how he views strength? Or do you think in the same way as Freya?

2. What do you think is the truth about the night of the storm? Who hurt Freya and Jyro?

What do you think might happen next?