"What are you doing here?" Alaric's voice came sharp when Evelyne slipped into his medical tent. Her perfume hit him wrong. Not desire. Frustration. "People will think this is inappropriate."
He'd been waiting for Seraphina. Planning how to use his injuries to pull her close. Make her feel needed. The way she'd left him yearning at the D'Lorien estate still burned. She chose duty over him. Left him hanging when he'd been so close to breaking through her walls. This was his chance to reclaim what she'd withheld.
"I came as soon as I heard," Evelyne said, settling beside his cot with practiced familiarity. "The reports said you were injured badly."
If Marcus wasn't proving so impossible, I wouldn't be here at all. His sister Clara had developed an annoying habit of barging in whenever Evelyne tried to create intimate moments. Always some urgent business matter that couldn't wait. And that security chief Thomas treated her like a threat, watching her every move around Marcus with veteran paranoia.
They both suspect something. They're deliberately sabotaging my seduction campaign.
No matter what she tried, she couldn't seem to charm the two of them. Only Marcus responded to her magic. Clara and Thomas remained frustratingly immune to her influence. Without full control over Marcus, she needed Alaric as insurance. Needed to keep this connection warm until she could properly claim her primary target.
"Concerned enough to risk both our reputations?" His tone carried warning. "My wife should be caring for me. Not my..." He stopped. Even now, he couldn't name what she was publicly.
Evelyne's eyes flashed. Hurt, then calculating. She'd perfected that transition over years of practice. "Of course. How thoughtless of me."
But her hand stayed on his shoulder. A soft touch that promised everything while committing to nothing. The way she'd learned to hold power over men who thought they owned her.
The last time she'd discovered his immunity had been a total shock. She'd believed she'd been controlling him for months, only to realize he'd been playing along. But he's wounded now. Exhausted. Maybe the protection isn't as strong.
She pushed charm magic through her fingertips, letting it flow into him. But the magic slid off without effect. He didn't even seem to notice the attempt.
Damn. Still nothing.
"You look terrible," she murmured, letting genuine concern seep into her voice. The injury was real enough. Demon claws had torn flesh, and healing magic could only do so much. But weakness could be weaponized if she played this correctly.
"I'll recover." His jaw tightened. "Seraphina's been distant since we returned. Playing the dutiful wife in public, but something's changed."
Perfect opening. Evelyne leaned closer, voice dropping to intimate whisper. "She's been different lately. More confident. More secretive."
Let him connect the dots, she thought with calculated coldness. Men do. Especially when jealousy does the work for her.
"You provide family cover for my recovery," he said, understanding passing between them. "Play the concerned cousin caring for injured family. I will uphold our arrangement."
They understood each other. Old lovers who'd had their falling out, but were working together again. Neither trusted the other completely. But necessity created its own intimacy. Evelyne's fingers traced the edge of his bandage, a gesture that could be read as either medical concern or lingering desire.
"Always thinking ahead," she said with that smile he'd never been able to resist. "It's what I've always admired about you."
Moonrise came cold and sharp. Canvas grit still under her nails, Seraphina felt the Grove's pull tighten around her chest. Behind them, Evelyne's voice carried lies to Alaric through the night air. Perfect cover for what came next.
And Seraphina walked toward a ritual that could drain every drop of magic from her body.
"First anchor is two miles northwest," Caelan said, checking weapons one final time. His movements were precise, economical. A man who'd stopped wasting motion years ago. "We move fast. Stay quiet. If we're lucky, demons won't expect night operations."
"If demons are waiting, they get a fight." Her voice held steel she didn't know she possessed. Blood vials clinked in her pack alongside silver chalk and her mother's ritual blade. Each item carried weight beyond its physical mass.
"The pull is getting stronger." She pressed fingers to her temple where pressure built. "It wants me now. Not after the wards. I can hear it whispering even when I'm awake."
Caelan's jaw tightened beneath his mask. "The Grove doesn't get to set the timeline. We finish what we started."
But she caught the worry in his voice. He'd seen what Grove madness could do to unprepared minds.
They moved through camp shadows with practiced stealth. Guards focused on external perimeters, watching for demon infiltration rather than internal movement. They slipped between tents and supply wagons, two figures in dark cloaks moving through the night.
The first anchor point lay in a clearing where old stones formed natural circles. Ancient magic lingered here, worn smooth by centuries of ritual use.
But something felt wrong. Too quiet. Even night insects had fallen silent.
"Demons," Caelan breathed, hand moving to his sword hilt. "They're here. Waiting."
They emerged from treelines. Not the crude beasts from earlier battles. These moved with intelligence, coordination. Pack hunters that had learned from watching human tactics. They'd been waiting for exactly this moment.
"They're smarter than we thought." Seraphina drew her mother's blade. "They knew we'd come here eventually."
Caelan met the first demon with wind-enhanced steel. His blade cut through corrupted armor. Too fast to follow. She lost it in the blur. But more came from the shadows. Always more.
Seraphina began the ritual while Caelan held the perimeter. Silver chalk scraped against ancient stone as she traced ward patterns older than the empire itself. Blood found the grooves. Power flared... hungry. Too alive.
The Grove's voice crashed through her mind. You cannot ward what you haven't claimed. Come now or lose everything you've fought to protect.
Her hand slipped. The circle broke. Power scattered and died, leaving her gasping.
"Fuck." She wiped blood from her palm, starting again. But the Grove's call grew stronger with each heartbeat. Each breath dragged her consciousness toward something vast and hungry and utterly inhuman. Something that had been waiting in the deep woods for longer than human memory.
"Problem?" Caelan dispatched another demon, wind magic keeping three more at bay. His breathing was getting heavier. Even his enhanced abilities had limits.
"Grove interference. It wants me to abandon this ritual. Go straight to whatever trial it has planned." Her voice shook with effort. "I can feel it pulling at my mind. Hooks in my thoughts."
"Can you push through it?"
Seraphina forced her hand steady. "Have to."
Chalk scraped stone. Dust got on her tongue... gritty, sour. Blood hit worn grooves.
"If these wards fail, demons retake the cleared lands in hours." Pressure built behind her eyes. Mean. Splitting. "Everything we fought for dies."
Tried again. Blood touched stone, power flared brighter. But the Grove's pull yanked at her focus, scattering her concentration. Images flashed through her mind. The realm burning. Cities falling. Everyone she'd tried to save dying in agony.
"I can't concentrate." The admission tasted bitter. "Every time I start the binding, it shows me visions. What happens if I refuse its call."
Caelan finished the last demon and knelt beside her without hesitation. "What do you need?"
"Anchor. Something to ground me while I work." Hands shaking now. The Grove's whispers had become a roar that drowned out rational thought.
He stripped off his gloves without question, placing bare hands over hers on the ritual blade. His magic merged with hers. Not overwhelming her power. Supporting it. His strength flowed steady and sure, giving her something solid to lean against while Grove madness clawed at the edges of sanity.
"Better?"
"Yes." The relief in her voice surprised them both. With Caelan's magic anchoring her, the Grove's whispers faded to manageable levels. "Don't let go. I don't think I can do this without you."
Together, they completed the first ward. Power sank deep into stone, spreading outward in protective nets that would keep demon forces at bay for months. But Seraphina collapsed as the ritual finished, magical exhaustion hitting her chest hard.
"Three more to go." She struggled to sit up, wiping blood from her nose. The metallic taste filled her mouth. "And the Grove's getting impatient. I can feel its anger."
Caelan helped her stand, his arm steady around her waist. She leaned into his strength more than she wanted to admit. "We can rest between anchors..."
"No time." She pulled away, forcing strength into legs that wanted to buckle. Her fingers found the endurance potion tucked in her belt. She'd grabbed it on impulse before leaving camp, never thinking it would matter for magical work. But gut instinct had served her well.
She downed the bitter liquid in one swallow. Energy flooded her system, artificial but effective. "If we stop now, I might not have the power to start again. The Grove will use the delay to dig deeper into my mind."
The second anchor lay deeper in contested territory. They moved through demon touched woods where trees grew wrong and shadows moved without light sources. Here, the Grove's call intensified until Seraphina could barely think through the pressure building behind her eyes.
Come. Now. Before it's too late to save anyone.
"What happens if I refuse?" she asked the voice in her head.
Images knifed in. Too clear to argue with. The realm in flames. Demons pouring through broken gates. Cities falling one by one until nothing remained but ash and the screaming of the dying. And through it all, the knowledge that she could have prevented it. That her refusal had doomed everyone she'd ever cared about.
"Six days," she whispered.
Caelan's head snapped toward her. "What did you just say?"
"The demon assault. Six days from now." Her voice cracked. "Three days after the gala. The timing... " She choked. Couldn't finish.
The Grove's laughter echoed through her mind, cold and satisfied. Now you understand the price of defiance.
No birds. No wind. Just their breathing and the ward's low hum, and her teeth clicking on every shaky breath. Around them, the second ward hummed with protective power, but it felt insignificant against what was coming.
In that silence, the forest whispered one truth: time was already running out.