Shaking off the old ache the thought brought, I shrugged. “Most people in Starkfell weren’t exactly reliable sources, especially when it came to beastfolk.”

  She paused, then grunted. “Fair enough. It’s a long story, but the short version? Decades ago, Warwick hunted raiders who targeted beastfolk settlements. He became a legend for turning the tide, defending those under attack. Dozens of camps would’ve been wiped out if not for him.”

  Her expression darkened as she stared into the distance. “But he was betrayed. Someone he trusted set a trap with the raiders, using a nearby settlement as bait to lure him out. He was gravely wounded, left to bleed out instead of being finished off. When he finally made it to the settlement, all the adults were gone—abandoning nearly a dozen children.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks, fury clawing through me. “They just left them?!”

  She nodded, the same anger simmering behind her eyes. “Yes, though Nikoli said there were signs of raiders nearby. Some of the adults might have died trying to lead them away.”

  Her lips thinned. “Warwick found Nikoli fending off a handful of raiders with nothing but a shovel. He’d stumbled across the kids while traveling and refused to leave them behind. If he’d kept walking, they probably wouldn’t have lasted until Warwick arrived.”

  My stomach twisted. “I’m glad he stayed. What happened next?”

  She shrugged. “They led the kids to Starkfell. Warwick healed up and went back to hunting raiders, and Nikoli joined him. Once the raids died down, they settled with the beastfolk they’d saved and founded Starkfell. Nikoli’s been mayor ever since. It’s been mostly peaceful, aside from what Warwick told you.”

  Her expression soured. “And what happened with Thistle’s piece-of-shit husband.”

  Venom dripped from her tone, setting me on edge. “If he has you this riled up, I already dread hearing what he did.” Thinking of Holly’s shyness around me, I added, “Do I need to find some wolves to feed him to?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  It had worked well enough for Beatrice’s would-be husband.

  Clover’s lips curled into a dark smirk, but she shook her head. “Warwick beat you to it years ago, but Thistle will love that you offered.” Her smile faded. “I won’t say much—it’s her business—but just know he was the worst kind of man. When Thistle finally managed to escape, he chased her across half of Nexus. He cornered her outside Starkfell, planning to kill her for running, but Warwick was on patrol that night.”

  A real smile tugged at her lips. “He handled things from there and Thistle’s had a thing for him ever since. But he constantly dodges the subject, even though it’s painfully obvious they both feel the same. It’s maddening.”

  I patted her hand. “You can’t force him. He’ll make that choice when he’s ready—if he ever is. It has to be his decision.”

  She groaned dramatically, resting her head on my shoulder. “Thistle says the same thing. I know you two are right, but I just want my friend to be happy.”

  I nodded. “That’s understandable. You’re not the type to sit back and wait for things to happen. It’s something I admire about you.”

  She certainly hadn’t wasted time making her interest in me clear. After dealing with Dawncrest’s women and their games, it was refreshing.

  Clover tilted her head, batting her eyes. “You always know just what I want to hear. Careful, darling—you’ll spoil me if you keep this up.”

  Heat curled at the back of my neck, but I ignored it. “Then I’ll make sure to do it more often.”

  In the distance, something glinted in the light, and I tensed. “Clover?”

  She followed my gaze and squinted. “That would be our destination.”

  As we approached, I took in the door set into the hillside. Unlike the last one, which had intricate carvings and a bird sigil at its center, this one was bare aside from a simple handle. Frowning, I ran my fingers over its surface. A faint tingle of magic brushed my skin.

  “Does this feel…off to you?” I asked.

  Clover pressed her palm against the door. After a moment, she frowned. “I’ve never felt this kind of reaction from a dungeon before, though I don’t usually bother with them. Healing is my focus. Maybe it’s normal for more advanced dungeons.”

  A grimace pulled at her lips. “Or it means magical monsters.”

  I sighed, rolling my shoulders. “Given our luck, I’m betting on the most inconvenient option. Ready to get in, find Haltir, find the Veridanis, and get out?”

  She snorted. “Optimistic, aren’t you? You really think we’ll manage all that as easily as breathing?”

  I shook my head. “No. But one way or another, we’ll do it. Between the two of us, we’ve got this. After that basilisk, nothing’s going to faze me.”

  A shadow passed over her face. “That was… bracing, I’ll give you that.” She glanced at the patch in my armor, then squared her shoulders, determination settling over her. “You’re right. We’ll handle it. And this time, you’re not taking a hit like that again. I’ll put an Illuminating Lance through anything that tries.”

  I caught her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be careful too. Now let’s go—we don’t know Haltir’s condition, and we might not have time to waste.”

  She nodded and pushed against the door. It creaked open, long and eerie.