THE FOREST was quiet that night, unnaturally quiet, as though the entire world was holding its breath. The moon hung and silvered above them, its light spilling over the lake like liquid glass.
Cassian knelt at the water’s edge, bare chest. The tattoo between his shoulder blades and his crescent moon birthmark at the back of his right ear glowed faintly under the moonlight. His breathing was uneven. The poison had been getting worse every night. Tonight, it felt like his blood was fire. Seris’s hold was no longer helping him, even her blood nourishing him, as if he was already immune to it.
Seris was standing barefoot in the shallows. The hem of her dress was soaking in the cold water.
“When the blood touches the water, the ritual begins. There’s no turning back once it starts,” Elen
