The following morning dawned bright. Noise echoed through the village as I moved from house to house, trying to find the prince and his men. They were leaving as soon as they’d saddled up, I’d heard, despite a late night spent remembering their friends with some of Master Haskell’s best brandy.

I saw the two guards who were all that remained of Hussar’s men. The prince’s golden head gleamed in the foggy morning, his breath steaming in the air as he laughed at something the mayor said.

But there was no sign of a stubborn, dark-haired man with wild yellow eyes.

I found him in the inn's stables, if it could be called that. Cas preferred the company of animals to that of men, and the horses seemed to be used to his scent. He stroked a hand against one glossy bay shoulder, cinching the saddle tight for the ride.

And all the words that rushed to my mouth refused to leave it…

What could I say? Stay, please. He couldn’t stay. He was wolvren, and bound to the prince’s will. A slave when all was said and done.

They’d never find us in the forest if we ran, whispered a little voice inside me.

But they’d find my sisters and my father. And we’d never be able to stop running.

He’d asked me if I could go to court, but there… there was no answer there either.

All that came out was: "You have no feather. And you have no firebird. What are you going to tell the king?"

"Are you certain we have no firebird?" He stroked his straw braid along the horse's spine, and his yellow gaze flickered up, to meet mine.

He knows. I steeled myself, trying not to reveal my surprise upon my face. "I'm fairly certain Hussar stabbed her through the chest with a spear and she burned to ashes. There was no sign of a new firebird in the flames when they finally died down."

"I saw the sparks settle on your skin." He strode around the horse, casting aside his makeshift brush. "Neva, I saw your eyes. Something happened in that forest. Something beyond my understanding. Your scent changed. You look different. You even sound different. I saw one of the sparks from her pyre hit your skin, and everything about you changed."

"What do you want me to say?" I whispered.

"The truth."

"You know the truth. Or you've guessed it." I closed my eyes, the words spilling from my lips as I told him everything. Galina's offer. The tests. My choice.

And the sacred duty I'd accepted when I'd drank from the Well of Tears.

"The woods are my home now," I said, glancing up from beneath my lashes. Some part of me might have dreamed of a different outcome, one where I rode away from Densby with a handsome prince, and the taciturn wolvren at his side. One where I might have made a life for myself at his side.

"And I'm needed at court."

The distance seemed vast between us, despite the inches between our bodies.

"What are you going to tell the prince?" My back hit the wall of the stable, as he took that final step toward me. This man could ruin me.

"Neva." Casimir's hand reached out, his thumb stroking lightly over my mouth. "What can I tell him? Nothing. Any explanation would see your heart cut from your chest if we weren't careful. Evaron wouldn't speak a word of it—not by choice. But there are ways to make a man reveal what he knows, and I'd prefer to keep this between the two of us. Just in case."

That same heart was thundering inside me. "You're not going to tell him? Evaron will be punished for the failure."

The words were a whisper on my lips.

And Evaron was his only friend.

"We'll figure something out."

"What is Evaron going to do?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "The common people love him, and there are several lords at court who seem wary of Rygil. Not everyone believes in the Way of the Light, but their power base is large enough to make things difficult for him—and Rygil is ambitious."

"It all depends on the king then, and whether he disinherits Evaron."

"If he does, then I'll have to stay at the prince's side," Cas murmured, his hand covering my cheek, and his thumb rasping gently down to my mouth. "The line of succession will be insecure enough with him still alive, if the king banishes him from court. I don't think Rygil would take steps to remove the problem, but there are those close enough to Rygil who might seek to remove any obstacles. Neva—"

"His life is in danger."

And yours.

But I didn't say it.

He was leaving. This was goodbye. His touch shivered through me, and I didn't dare let him speak, for I knew he felt the same way.

I didn't say, "Will I ever see you again?"

And I didn't say, "Stay, please."

We both had our causes, and neither was any less important than the other. The prince had to discover how to keep his throne.

But if this was goodbye, then I didn't want it to pass us by unremarked either.

"I will miss you." Sliding my hands up his chest, I saw the heat flare in his eyes, just before I kissed him.

The kiss gave him the permission he needed. Cas pushed me against the wall, and crushed his mouth against mine. My response was just as frantic. Leather creaked as my hands found the hard carapace of his hunting leathers, exploring the expanse of his chest. Cas's sheer size overwhelmed me, and I realized how particular and careful he was—and always had been. He was heat and solid muscle. Pure strength.

I was alone, and then I found you. I poured myself into the kiss, trying to tell him what words could not, my tongue darting against his.

Hard calluses stirred against my shirt, as if he did not quite dare touch me. Grabbing his wrists, I dragged his palms flat against my body, feeling them mold to my hips. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. My nails skated up his forearms, digging into the flex of his biceps, mouth opening on a gasp. In another world, maybe, we could have been together.

It was as if my hunger transferred itself to him. Hands slid up my sides, learning the curve of my waist. Soft and gentle at first, the pressure slowly increasing, until one warm palm settled in the small of my back. Every inch of hard muscle was pressed against me.

Heat swarmed through my veins, as if Casimir's kiss stoked the flames of the firebird within me. His hand paused, thumbs brushing lightly against the undersides of my breasts, and then he drew back, both of us inhaling sharply. He hovered there, turning his face into the hollow of my throat, as if to catch his breath.

And perhaps his equilibrium.

Another second, and we both might have been lost.

Thick lashes shielded his eyes as he pushed away from me. Our eyes met, his filled with regret. All of the emotion slid off his face as he locked himself down. The smooth planes of his cheeks were granite once more. My hand fell from his chest, my fingers curling sharply into my palms, as my throat constricted.

I'd never wanted to beg a man to stay the way I did now.

Yet those cursed words wouldn't pass my tightly constricted lips.

"Goodbye, Neva."

And then he gathered the reins of his horse, and led the gelding from the stable, and suddenly I was cold again, one hand pressed gently to my stinging lips and the other still clenched in a tight fist.

The last time I saw him, the dawn’s soft light obliterated the shadows from his shoulders and dark cloak and then… then he was simply gone

All that was left for me now was Gravenwold.