This is the right choice. It has always been the right choice.

His hands moved down to her waist, heat burning like wildfire in their wake.

“Let me make you my wife,” he said. “Now.”

“The ceremony—”

“No one will know.”

She wanted that, as she’d wanted nothing else in her life. Lust and desire and need. And love. She wanted to be with him for now and forever, and nothing else—

A hound bayed. She turned to follow the sound. She looked out and saw nothing, but she knew they were there, in the darkness. The hounds and the riders. The Cwn Annwn. Calling her back for one last ride. One last hunt. One last goodbye.

“Tonight,” she said as she pulled away. “I will be yours tonight. As soon as I return.”

He tried to grab her, but she was already out of reach. She ran. She heard him behind her, running after her, begging her not to do this.

“You made a vow,” he shouted, his voice growing dimmer as she raced through the castle. “The day has come. You cannot break your vow. If you do—”

The baying of hounds and the stomping of steeds drowned him out. She ran into the courtyard. They were there. The riders. The hounds. And Arawn. He smiled and reached down to take her hand, pulling her effortlessly onto the back of his mount.

She held him tight, arms and legs wrapped around him. He reached back, his hand on her thigh, but she pushed it off.

That is not the choice I’m making. I just want this last night, this last hunt.

As we rode, a boom sounded over the thunder of the hooves. Matilda turned to look back at the castle, and she instinctively shaded her eyes, knowing it would shine blindingly bright. Her castle. The palace of the Tylwyth Teg, where she would dance on her wedding night and—

There was no glowing castle. Only darkness, lit by a single spot of light. A single sunbeam.

She scrambled off the horse, falling behind its hooves, one striking her in the thigh. Arawn cried out, circling back, but she was already on her feet, running.

The castle was gone. No sign of it. Only that ray of light. Still she ran, somehow faster than the horses, hot on her heels. Arawn called for her, told her it was gone, forever gone, and that was the choice she had made, the right choice, and she would never regret it.

No! I made my choice. Gwynn. The Tylwyth Teg. It was just one last hunt, before our wedding night. One last night, before endless day.

But now it was night, all around her, closing in, and she didn’t feel the pull of it, the seduction of it. It was dark, and it was cold. Yet one ray remained. One last ray. One way to touch him.

To say I was wrong. I was young. I was foolish.

“Matilda! No!”

She ran into the beam and braced for the light and the warmth, imagining the feel of it against her skin—

Fire. Flame scorched through her, white-hot agony. She screamed and fell to her knees and—

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

I crumpled to the ground, hard ground, so unbelievably cool against my burning skin that I stretched out, plastering my cheek and hands to it.

Hands pulled me up, and when I lifted my gaze and saw a face, I thought it was him, the golden-haired man, and I let out a cry, relief convulsing through me. It wasn’t too late. I hadn’t lost everything.

Then the fever cleared for a second, and I saw pale blue eyes and black hair, and I sobbed louder then, the relief like a tidal wave, seeing Gabriel, knowing I was back and everything would be fine.

He said something, his words garbled. I blinked hard to clear my head, but the pain and the relief seemed to engulf me, and I couldn’t fight my way free. Cool tears slid down my burning cheeks, and I reached up to wipe them away.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s the vision. Just hold on.”

He spoke again, his voice sharp with confusion and concern, and I struggled to fix on him, but part of my brain stayed lost in that vision, still disconnected. The room was blurred and tinged with red. I could see Gabriel’s face over mine, but it wouldn’t come into focus and his words were still garbled, unintelligible.

“I don’t understand you,” I said. “I—”

Heat roared through me, like being thrust back into that fiery ray of sunlight, and I convulsed, gasping. His cool hand went to my forehead. An exclamation that might have been a curse, but the word meant nothing to me. His arm slid around my shoulders. He said something. I struggled to focus, but even keeping my eyes open was too much effort. The room dipped and flared red.

He said the word again. I heard syllables then, but still nothing that made any sense. His arm gripped me, his fingers digging into my shoulder.

“—a!” His voice came clear. “Olivia!”

I passed out.

—

I surfaced into a nightmare world. I was a child, being stolen from my home, carried through the dark streets by a stranger. I’d been asleep when he took me and now I woke, in his arms, feeling the rush of cold night air against my skin, hearing the pound of his footsteps, smelling the stink of sweat and fear.

My limbs shot out, punching and jabbing and kicking as I struggled to be free. The man said something unintelligible. His face hovered above me. Yet it was no face. Just a pale blur. When I swung, he caught me by the wrist.

A pounding, like someone kicking a door. A white door. It swung open. A monstrous face leaned out, mouth opening, sharp teeth flashing, coming for me.

I screamed. Another rush of air as we tumbled through the doorway, the man still holding me tight against my struggles.

A woman’s voice now, the words meaningless. I caught sight of the man’s featureless face again and swung my fist up. It connected with a thwack. The man grunted but still didn’t let go, carrying me upstairs now, into a yawning pit of darkness lit only by a distant wavering orange light.

Fire. He was taking me into the fire. My skin already burned, and he was going to throw me into—

Another light. Blinding. White. The shock of it stopped the pounding in my head for a split second, and I heard a voice, and words now.

“Ice! We need ice!”

The arms lowered me to the floor. I thrashed there, moaning, fire scouring through me, so hot it burned away the nightmare, and I caught sight of a purple towel hanging on a rack. I’d seen that towel before. Admired the color.

Where had I seen it? Where was I?

A gurgling sound. Then a roar. Water rushing into a tub.

Whose bathroom?

I struggled to hold on to the questions. My brain kept dropping them as I writhed on the floor, moaning, my mind and body ablaze. A dark shape blocked the searing light, and I blinked up to see—