The soft crunch of leaves and underbrush signaled their return before Celia ever saw them. She didn’t stir from her place beneath the trees, but her eyes narrowed, following the sound until Jack stepped into view, spear in hand and a pair of rabbits slung over his shoulder. Goldeyes padded silently beside him, muzzle damp with fresh water, golden eyes flicking briefly toward Celia before dismissing her in favor of sniffing the air.

  Celia sat upright with her knees drawn close, hands still bound before her. Her silver hair had caught a few forest leaves, but her posture remained regal in spite of the indignity. She had spent the last hour rehearsing what she would say—not out of fear, but strategy. She knew the value of timing. She let Jack approach before she said a word.

  “I’ve thought about your offer,” she said coolly, eyes meeting his.

  Jack paused, just a few feet from her, narrowing his eyes. “And?”

  She raised her chin. “I’ll help you.”

  Goldeyes let out a low, warning growl. Celia ignored him.

  Jack said nothing at first. He studied her carefully, as if searching for deceit in her tone or the twitch of a muscle. When he finally spoke, it was with measured caution.

  “Just like that?” he asked. “No clever remarks or snide jabs first?”

  Celia gave him the ghost of a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Consider it a temporary alignment of interests. You want something. I want something. I’m choosing the smart path.”

  Jack didn’t answer immediately. He walked a slow circle around her, his eyes never leaving her. “I’ve seen you, Celia. I know how proud you are. How angry. You want to prove yourself to your House , don’t you?”

  Her breath hitched slightly, just enough for him to notice. She hated that he could read her so easily. “I won’t deny it.”

  “Then I imagine you’ll work harder than most.” He stopped in front of her. “But I need to be clear on a few things.”

  She tilted her head, feigning patience. “Go on.”

  “I’ll untie you,” he said, conjuring a dagger of ice and twirling it in his hand. “But you’ll be under watch at all times. Either me, Lyla, Cael, Monsoon, or Goldeyes will be with you. You don’t go anywhere without one of us.”

  Celia’s expression tightened, but she nodded.

  Jack’s eyes didn’t waver as he stepped closer, the dagger in his hand glinting in the dappled forest light. “And there’s something else,” he added, voice even but low enough that it almost felt like a warning. “The crystal.”

  Celia’s breath caught. She had tried to seem indifferent—had buried her desperation beneath layers of defiance and sarcasm—but the mention of it pierced clean through. She didn’t speak, but her eyes betrayed her longing. Jack saw it, and he didn’t soften.

  “You won’t get it. Not yet.”

  Her lips parted slightly, just enough to protest, but he raised a hand to cut her off before she could speak.

  “You’ll earn it. You’ll help us take back the Ramkin stronghold. When the time comes, you’ll fight beside us. No games. No sabotage. No half-hearted efforts. And when we reach Stonetree, you’ll help us get inside and free Tanner’s sister.”

  Celia’s jaw clenched. “You’re expecting a lot from someone you don’t trust.”

  “That’s the point,” Jack said. “Trust has to be built. And it starts with action.”

  He crouched beside her, the dagger poised over the vine bindings. “You do those things, and I’ll give you the crystal. All of it. No tricks. You’ll have what you want.”

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  Celia looked at him sharply. “You swear it?”

  Jack’s eyes met hers. “On my soul.”

  Something in his voice made her believe him. It wasn’t soft or sentimental—it was iron. He meant it. But that didn’t mean it came without danger. She could already sense the weight of the role he wanted her to play. An accomplice in a rebellion. An infiltrator. Possibly a killer.

  “I suppose I don’t have a choice,” she said, more bitterly than she meant to.

  “You always have a choice,” Jack replied. “But choices come with consequences.”

  He crouched beside her. “And your focus—the rod you used to cast—and all your other items? They stay with me. For now.”

  “I need that rod to channel—”

  “You’ll earn it back,” he cut her off. “When I believe I can trust you. Not before.”

  Her jaw clenched. She hated this. Hated being powerless. But he held all the leverage—her freedom, her belongings, the Light-attuned crystal. Every instinct screamed at her to lash out, to fight, to reclaim some sliver of agency.

  But she didn’t. She swallowed the pride and nodded stiffly.

  “Fine.”

  Jack seemed to study her again. Then, with a sharp flick of his dagger, he sliced through the vines binding her wrists. Celia inhaled as the tension released, her arms aching from being held so long. She rubbed at her raw wrists but didn’t complain. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

  Goldeyes stepped closer, his nose twitching as he sniffed her. Celia froze.

  “I wouldn’t try anything,” Jack said. “He doesn’t like you. And he’s faster than you.”

  The wolf bared his teeth—not quite a snarl, but not a smile either.

  Celia met the beast’s gaze. “He’s not the only one who’s fast.”

  Jack smirked faintly. “Good. Let’s see if you can keep up, then.”

  He slung the rabbits off his shoulder and dropped them near the fire pit Lyla had set earlier. The scent of fresh kill filled the air, making Celia’s stomach twist. She hadn’t eaten since before the ambush. Elves could go without food longer than humans but even they has to eat eventually. She hated that her body betrayed her hunger.

  Jack noticed.

  “I’ll cook,” he said. “You can sit, but don’t wander. If you do, Goldeyes will stop you.”

  Celia raised a brow. “How loyal. Does he listen to all your commands, or just the ones involving violence?”

  “He listens when it matters.”

  Goldeyes huffed and settled beside the fire, eyes still fixed on her.

  Jack skinned the rabbits quickly and efficiently, clearly accustomed to such tasks. The fire crackled to life, and soon the smell of roasting meat drifted into the clearing. Celia sat with her back to a mossy tree trunk, arms crossed. Her posture said calm, but her thoughts were anything but.

  This wasn’t a truce. It was an uneasy alliance—one with teeth on both sides.

  She didn’t trust him. Not really. He’d killed Irivan, and no matter how logical it might have been during the battle, it still left a pit in her stomach. Irivan had been reckless, yes. But loyal. Fiercely loyal. And she’d failed him. That failure stung more than her wounded pride. More than even the restraints.

  House Hightower would never elevate her now—not unless she proved herself indispensable. A pawn had to become a queen before it could demand respect.

  “You really believe we’ll make it to Stonetree,” she said, watching the firelight flicker against Jack’s face.

  “I plan to.”

  “Even with fighting the Ramkin, and making our through this monster infested wilderness, and who knows what else?”

  Jack glanced at her. “That’s why we need allies. And power. You want to prove yourself to your House? This is your chance.”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “And if I do? What then?”

  “Then you’ll have more than just a rod back. You’ll have a place.”

  She snorted. “A place? In your merry band of misfits?”

  “If you want it,” Jack shrugged.

  “You killed one of my own,” she reminded him, voice low.

  “And you tried to kill me first,” he said without apology. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m offering a way forward.”

  Celia looked away, the fire’s warmth brushing her face. “You don’t trust me.”

  “No. But I respect what you’re capable of. That’s a start.”

  Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the flames and the rustle of trees in the breeze. Goldeyes shifted but didn’t sleep.

  Eventually, Jack passed her a cooked piece of rabbit on a sharpened stick. Celia hesitated, then took it. It was better than she expected—lightly seasoned, cooked just enough to retain the flavor. She hated that it tasted good.

  “Don’t think this earns you points,” she muttered between bites.

  Jack chuckled. “Didn’t expect it to. You’re too stubborn for that.”

  She finished eating and tossed the bare stick into the fire. Her hands still tingled from disuse, and her mind burned with possibility. She had to be smart—gain their trust, earn her rod back, and then… she didn’t know yet. Maybe she’d leave them behind. Maybe she’d stay.

  All she knew was that her story wasn’t over. Not yet.

  Jack stood, dusting his hands off. “Get some rest. We start training in the morning.”

  Celia remained seated, back against the tree. She didn’t sleep, not right away. She stared into the fire, listening to the sounds of the forest. The flickers of flame reflected in her pale eyes, her thoughts circling around power, purpose… and revenge.