The roar inside the arena the next morning hits me as soon as I enter it. The Elven Command is expecting me to take my place inside the side room and appear at their beck and call, but I don’t plan on doing anything they want today.

My ladies stand proud and strong in four rows of five, marching behind me. Unlike the first battle I fought in this arena, the onlookers part to let us in, heeding Elise’s cry. It doesn’t hurt that she spellcasts her voice to project loudly over the top of them. Every one of my twenty ladies is present and armed with daggers, swords, bows and arrows, their body armor and headpieces gleaming, and the skin around their eyes painted red for war.

The entire lower level of the arena is empty except for the dais at the other end where the Elven Command already waits—always standing higher than us. In contrast, the upper levels are packed with elves. I’m not sure what everyone expects to see—Baelen and I will be sitting in chairs, unmoving the whole time.

Speaking of which, the chairs are two lonely pieces of furniture, both wooden and a basic shape and size. They face each other, positioned closer than I’d expected, maybe only ten feet apart. Otherwise, there’s a wide, empty space all around them lit brightly from skylights in the ceiling above.

Elise leans toward me. She has to lift her voice above the din. “The dais isn’t shielded, but the upper levels are.”

That means there’s no barrier between me and the Elven Command.

Reisha steps up on my other side so that she and Elise flank me as we enter the arena. “Commander Rath is a few minutes behind us.”

I hold my wooden headpiece in my gloved hands. My ladies made me a veil out of canvas threads to cover my face. It’s not unbreakable like the Elyria web, but once I tie it to the neckline of my armor it will pose a challenge for anyone who wants to get past it. “Okay, let’s go.”

As I approach the chairs, Elwyn Elder steps forward, indicating the chair to my left. I consider taking the one to the right, just to annoy him, but the chair will be connected to the Heartstone Chest, so I have to sit in the correct one. The chest itself rests on the dais. It’s closed. It will only open if one of us loses our fight.

I take my place beside my chair, but don’t sit down yet, as my Storm Command fans out around me, leaving a gap so I have a clear view of Baelen’s seat. The watching crowd finally quiets, an expectant hush falling over them.

Baelen appears at the entrance and I’m relieved to see he isn’t alone. Far from it actually. Jasper leads a small band of soldiers, a handful of males that Baelen must trust with his life. The only one missing is Macsen—he sent me word this morning that he was returning to Rath land at Baelen’s request. What he didn’t say was loud and clear: he needs to make sure that Baelen’s home, and all the elves who live there including our parents, remain safe.

Sebastian, Jordan, and Sahara arrive last. When they’re close enough, Jordan breaks off to join my group, while Sebastian joins Baelen’s, and Sahara takes up neutral territory between the two of us. Elise steps away then to examine the chairs and the chest. I know I should pay attention to what she’s doing, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than Baelen.

Like me, he’s wearing full body armor, but to my surprise, it’s not military issue like the armor he wore in the last battle. This armor has no chinks, no weaknesses. This armor belongs to the House of Rath.

Every inch of him is covered in finely sculpted metal plates overlapping and linking together to protect his torso, legs, arms, and neck, the metallic curves decorated in red and black markings, making him appear even larger and more formidable than he already is. At the same time, joints in the armor allow him to move with speed and grace as he takes up position in front of his chair, facing me.

A shiver speeds down my spine as he focuses on me across the distance with surprising intensity, not guarded any more. I jolt as I realize that the barrier he’d been building between us is gone and now there’s… damn… where did that look in his eyes come from? He inhales and it’s like his body sucks me forward, calling to me across the distance while a slow smile spreads across his face. I can almost hear his voice inside my mind. Come here, Marbella.

I have to clamp down on my legs before they obey.

Just in time, Jasper cuts into my line of sight, dropping to a knee before he gets too close. He lands halfway between Baelen and me, too far away for me to hear anything he might want to say. I crane forward, concerned, but Elise heads straight for him, speaking to him for a moment before he heads back to Baelen’s group.

She crosses the distance. “Sorry about that, Princess, but I needed a way to let Commander Rath know what I’m about to tell you: that there’s a thread of pure deep magic between the Heartstone Chest and each chair. The thread connected to his chair belongs to his heartstone and the one connected to your chair belongs to your heartstone. So far everything is untainted and correct.”

She shuffles. “Also, Jasper wanted me to give you a message.”

I bite my lip, glancing across the distance to Jasper and Baelen as they stand silently waiting. “Yes?”

“He said that he doesn’t know what’s going on, but he understands now that you don’t have a choice.”

“Thank you, Elise.” I close my eyes for a brief moment, unwilling to reveal how much that means to me. Jasper and I had kept each other alive on Scepter Peak. He’d proven he was truly loyal to Baelen and he’d proven to me that he was completely trustworthy: a rare combination. But when he’d heard me say I wouldn’t yield, he’d looked at me as if I was a monster. Now, he is willing to trust me again.

A single drummer beats a rhythm at the side of the dais. There are no spellcasters present with the Elven Command. Gideon Glory must believe that he doesn’t need them. In the bright morning light, his skin shimmers a faint golden color, even more luminescent than usual.

He steps forward and raises his hands for attention, his robes sliding down his arms, revealing the faint golden tattoos that members of his House like to wear. On the inner skin of each arm is a single wing, each now framing his face.

“Our people! Welcome to the penultimate battle to determine the fate of the champions. Each champion will submit to a simulation in which they will fight a gargoyle.” He pauses as the crowd ignites once more, giving them time to settle down. “We will know the outcome when the Heartstone Chest opens to reject the stone of the champion who loses his… or her… fight.”

He stops playing to the crowd for a moment, giving me and Baelen his attention. “Once you sit, the simulation will begin.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment and I brace for any attempt to touch me with sorcery.

“Please,” he says with a smile, gesturing to each chair in a fluid motion. “Be seated.”

I turn away from him, giving him no more of my attention. Reisha leans in to me with Jordan and Elise close behind her. “We vow to you, Princess,” Reisha says, “We will protect you. And we haven’t forgotten our promise. We will protect Commander Rath as well.”

“Thank you, my beautiful friends.”

I inhale. Exhale. I turn to face Baelen, wishing I could throw my thoughts across the distance. Be safe.

He gives me an acknowledging nod as he pulls his headpiece on. I do the same, tying the veil firmly to the neckline of my armor. The chair is a yawning gap in my vision, but it’s the Elven Command’s sorcery that worries me more.

I time my movements to Baelen’s, following him into the chair in unison, jolting as the deep magic takes hold. It’s like a magnet running through every bone in my body, compelling me to stay seated.

I thought I’d have to close my eyes, but my vision changes immediately. Baelen’s silhouette blurs and blends into an encroaching darkness. I try to hold on to his image within my sight, but I can’t fight the deep black like nighttime falling across everything. It surrounds me, consuming the arena, my ladies, the soldiers, the Elven Command, even the chair itself and, last of all, Baelen is completely gone and there’s nothing but dark.

I float inside it, regulating my breathing, mentally preparing myself. The darkness lifts and I’m ready for anything.

Except this.

My armor’s gone. The wind whips at my hair. I stand across from the edge of a cliff. Baelen sits at the edge with his back to me. From across his shoulder I see a pen and paper in his hands. But he’s not the now Baelen, he’s the then Baelen.

I glance at myself, at my hands and my dress—the old, patched one I used to wear. My faded lavender cloak drapes around my shoulders to ward against the cold. My hair is tied in a long braid and my blue ribbon—the only pretty thing I own—flutters against my side.

I’m eighteen.

This is the day I became the Storm Princess.

I don’t want to be here! The shriek inside my mind fades as I keep walking. My older self’s thoughts are consumed and destroyed as I merge completely with my younger self, until I forget why I’m here… I don’t know what I was afraid of just now… because Bae’s here and nothing can hurt me.

I pass the shallow cave on my left that’s deep enough to provide shelter. The cliff’s edge opposite the cave is a sheer drop down thousands of feet. I’m breathing heavily. I’ve just climbed up the side of the mountain along the secret path that Baelen showed me years before—a place to escape in the Rath mountains that nobody else knows how to get to.

In the beginning, we had an unspoken code to only come up here when the other wasn’t here. It was a place to be alone. He told me about it after he found me crying behind one of the outer buildings when we were eleven, my knees and hands bleeding after one of the visiting Valor boys knocked me over.

But now… It’s his place and mine.

I step across the stones, navigating the rocky ground, and slide down next to him, my legs dangling over the edge. The drop is dizzying but it’s funny how I don’t feel fear when I’m near him.

I don’t try to see what he’s drawing. He’s never offered to show me and I respect that it’s the one thing he keeps for himself. Most days he spends all day training and studying. Basically learning how to kill gargoyles in every way possible.

He turns as if he’s connected to me. “My father’s sending me to military training tomorrow. This is the last time I can draw anything other than maps and military routes.”

I take a moment to let my breathing even out. Then I nudge him, trying to coax out a smile. “Maybe they’ll let you do military portraits. You know, the ones where all the elves take majestic positions and pretend they’re in the middle of glorious battle.”

He shrugs.

I raise my eyebrows. Not even a small smile?

But he’s right. There’s no use trying to make light of it. He’s going away and at some point I’m going to have to admit how that makes me feel. I exhale my emptiness into the breeze, closing my eyes, shutting out the view of the vast Rath lands far beneath us. “I don’t want you to go, Bae.”

He closes the book but I’m surprised when he hands it to me. He says, “You may as well see it before my father burns it.”

“Really? I can look at this?” I let it rest in my lap for a moment, running my hands over the cover. It’s made of fine leather, black, a gift from his mother before she died. His father wouldn’t really burn it. At least, I don’t think so.

I turn it on its side and it falls open to a picture of an elven girl. She’s standing at the edge of this same cliff, her hair flowing and cloak billowing out, just like me a moment ago.

Baelen smiles for the first time, his eyes lighting up. “You thought I never saw you walk up the mountain.”

I wish I could leap into the picture and stay in that moment. That heartbeat when I reach the top of the path, knowing that he’s waiting for me. That moment right before he turns around—when he knows I’m here even before I speak.

I hand the book back to him. “It’s beautiful, Baelen. But only because you drew it.” I’m suddenly overtaken by an impulse I can’t explain. “Don’t give your father the chance to burn it. Set it free.”

I jump to my feet, breaking into a wild grin. I take a last look at the picture as I gesture to the wide expanse. “Rip my picture out and let me fly with the wind.”

In response, Baelen tucks the book under his arm. He rises to his full height, reminding me that he is a Rath. He towers over me and I’m suddenly very small but never afraid. His gaze runs over my face, from my forehead to my cheeks to my lips…

He’s never looked at me this way before. Or… maybe he has but I was too afraid to see it. I hover, the smile draining from my face, uncertainty flooding me. “Baelen?”

He reaches for the ribbon at the end of my braid. The bow has come undone and for a moment I think he’s going to tie it back up, except that he slides it loose instead, pulling the ribbon free. Without a word, he folds it in half and places it inside the book, a pale blue curl next to the picture of me, tucked away safely.

The book meets the ground slowly, deliberately. His chest rises and falls. His breathing is so even that he could be resting. He looks as purposeful as he does when he draws.

He closes the gap between us with a single powerful stride, stopping inches away from me. His chest is closer to mine than he’s ever been before. His forefinger grazes my cheek, the lightest touch, tucking my hair behind my ear, following the curve of my neck down to my braid, loosening it from the bottom up until my hair cascades across my shoulders, flowing freely.

Shivers run up and down my spine as his hand remains tangled in my hair, his fingers light against the back of my neck, his thumb stroking the curve between my neck and shoulder. He tilts his head down to mine, but doesn’t move any closer.

“May I have your permission?”

I lift my lips to his, overwhelmed by the searching question in his eyes. As his hands run through my hair from my neck to my lower back, I sway into him, closing the gap.

“Yes.”

When his lips touch mine, his hesitation is gone. He lifts me up to meet him, our bodies molding together. His kiss is soft and gentle at first. A light press of his lips against mine. He follows the shape of my lips from the corner to the curve at the top, gentle brushes sending tingles all the way down to my toes.

He tastes like a warm breeze and I respond by fitting my lips to his, curve in curve, our mouths moving against each other until I gasp for breath. I tilt my head back and he follows the line of my cheeks and chin, planting kisses against my throat and up across my earlobe.

He lifts me, still kissing me, and carries me to the flat rocks at the side of the cave. When he sets me down on the lowest one, I find myself at eye height with him for the first time. His are serious, determined.

“I’ll be gone for three years. I know it’s a long time. But when I get back I’ll be able to make my own choices. I know it’s a lot to ask but… will you wait for me?”

I pull back, but not too far, just far enough to run my hands across his cheeks and kiss the path my fingers follow.

I whisper, “I would wait a lifetime for you.”

My lips graze against the fine stubble along his jaw, his cheekbones, finding his temple and the soft skin next to his ear…

He twitches and I stop, my fingertip resting lightly on his earlobe. “Baelen Rath, are you ticklish?”

He shivers against me. “Give me mercy, no. Not ticklish.”

I gasp as he presses me close again, his lips crashing against mine. A burn grows inside me. It swirls across my lower back and through my stomach. His hands flatten against my spine, sliding beneath the back of my cloak. I rest my own hands across his shoulders only to find myself sliding my fingers behind his neck, drawing him closer still.

The sky rumbles above us but I barely hear it. The first drop of rain lands on my cheek but Baelen kisses it away. Another one lands on my eyelashes and he kisses that too. The wind tugs on my cloak, finally forcing me to look up.

Baelen keeps me close, his voice a rumble in my ear. “The storm’s coming over fast. We won’t make it down the mountain in time.”

I answer, “It would be dangerous to try. We can stay here. It will blow over fast.”

He takes my hand as I step down from the rock and leads me inside the cave but he stops at the entrance. His book is still outside.

He looks back as his hand slides out of mine, holding on right to the end before letting go. He takes swift steps to retrieve the book, returning just before the clouds break and the rain falls down.

I stop at one side of the cave as he backs up to the other. We’ve been caught in the rain once before. He stayed on his side of the cave and I stayed on mine.

As clouds cover the afternoon sun and the sky darkens outside, so does the space around me. A match flares and Baelen lights the lamp he keeps at the back of the hollow, leaving the light on a rock to cast a soft glow around us.

He leans at his side of the cave, watching the rain fall outside, fat drops hitting the ground and running along the slight slope to the edge of the cliff beyond. I watch them too, knowing that we could stay like this for hours and when the rain stops, he will make sure I make it safely down the slippery rocks to the bottom of the mountain. He will see me home and then he’ll be gone for three years. And I will wait for him without question.

I know he won’t ask. I know it’s my choice. I am the daughter of a servant in his father’s house. He will never use his position or his power to persuade me. He will never take advantage.

He won’t speak. He’ll wait in silence. He won’t say the words.

So I say them for him. “I want to be yours.”

He focuses on me, but remains where he is, and I realize that what I said could be interpreted in different ways. I leave my side of the cave as thunder rumbles outside. Closer to him, I reach for his hand, lifting it and placing it against my waist. His fingers flex around the small of my back and splay across my hip.

I reach up on my tip-toes to plant a kiss on his bottom lip and watch the question grow on his face. Then I untie the sash that keeps my cloak around my shoulders and let it drop to the ground.

I say, “You have my permission.”