Seraphina's POV
I woke to the rhythm of walking.
Strong arms held me against a broad chest. Each step jostled me slightly, and I could hear a heartbeat that wasn't mine—steady and slow, like whoever carried me had no fear in the world.
Dante.
My eyes snapped open. Put me down.
You're awake. His voice rumbled above my head. Good. You were out for an hour.
I said put me down! I shoved against his chest.
He stopped walking and set me on my feet with infuriating gentleness. Happy?
My legs wobbled immediately. I grabbed his arm to keep from falling, then jerked my hand back when his skin sent electricity shooting through mine.
The bond. Right. Still there. Still connecting us whether I wanted it or not.
I can walk on my own, I said, forcing myself to stand straight despite the dizziness.
Of course you can. Amusement flickered in his amber eyes. You've only been starving for six weeks and just had ancient magic carved into your skin. Walking should be easy.
Stop mocking me.
I'm not. His expression softened. I'm impressed. Most people would have died in the wasteland. You survived long enough to reach the Thornwall.
The unexpected compliment caught me off guard. Through the bond, I felt genuine respect bleeding from him—admiration for my survival.
It made hating him harder.
Where are we going? I asked instead of acknowledging his words.
The Heartwood. The main settlement. He gestured ahead. My people need to know about you. And you need food before you collapse again.
I don't want to meet anyone. I look like— I glanced down at myself. Torn dress, dirt-streaked skin, tangled hair. I probably smelled worse. I look like something that crawled out of a grave.
You look like a survivor. Dante started walking again, slower this time so I could keep up. No one here will judge you for that.
Everyone judges. That's what people do.
Through the bond, I felt his sadness at my words. He knew I was thinking about Adrian and Celeste. About how fast the nobles had turned on me.
We walked in tense silence until the trees opened up ahead.
I stopped dead, staring.
The Heartwood was impossible.
Houses grew directly from massive tree trunks—not built on them, but part of them. Living wood shaped into homes with windows and doorways. Bridges stretched between trees hundreds of feet above the ground, connecting platforms where people moved about their daily business.
Everything was alive. Growing. Breathing.
This is... I couldn't find words.
Home, Dante finished quietly.
People started noticing us. A woman hanging laundry on a high branch froze mid-motion. Two men carrying supplies stopped walking. Children playing on a rope swing went silent.
Every eye turned toward me.
Kingdom woman, someone whispered, the words carrying in the sudden quiet.
The Alpha brought an outsider, another voice hissed.
A child pointed. She's wearing kingdom clothes!
The whispers grew louder, angrier. I felt dozens of hostile stares boring into me like knives.
My instinct was to run. Hide. Apologize for existing.
But I'd spent six weeks learning not to show weakness. So I lifted my chin and stared back at the crowd, refusing to cower.
Dante's hand settled on my lower back—protective, possessive. Through the bond, I felt his warning radiating outward: Mine. Don't touch.
She smells like the kingdoms, a man spat from a nearby platform. Like those bastards who burned my village.
My daughter died because of kingdom soldiers, a woman called out. And you brought one here?
Get her out!
The crowd's anger built like a wave about to crash. More people emerged from their homes, drawn by the commotion. I counted at least fifty now, all glaring at me with hatred I understood too well.
They had every right to hate kingdom nobles. I'd just never been on the receiving end before.
Dante. A sharp female voice cut through the noise.
The crowd parted as a woman strode forward. She was beautiful in a fierce, dangerous way—dark skin, braided hair decorated with small bones, and eyes that could cut steel. Tribal marks covered her arms, and she moved like a predator stalking prey.
She stopped directly in front of Dante, completely ignoring me.
Tell me you didn't just bring a kingdom noble into the Heartwood. Her voice was low and deadly. Tell me you haven't lost your mind.
Hello, Kira, Dante said calmly.
Don't 'hello Kira' me! She jabbed a finger at his chest. We have border patrols reporting increased kingdom activity. Commander Vex's forces are planning something. And you respond by bringing the enemy home?
She's not the enemy.
She's wearing their clothes! She probably walked straight out of some palace—
She was exiled, Dante interrupted. Sentenced to death beyond the Thornwall. Left to die in the wasteland.
Kira's eyes narrowed. Why?
Treason, I said before Dante could answer. They accused me of conspiring with Wildlands rebels. Framed me with forged letters and destroyed my life at my own engagement party.
Kira's gaze snapped to me for the first time. Your engagement party?
I was supposed to marry Crown Prince Adrian. Bitterness flooded my voice. Instead, he and my sister conspired to have me executed. The only reason I'm here is because exile was slower than a beheading.
Something shifted in Kira's expression. Not quite sympathy, but recognition. They betrayed you.
Completely.
And you survived six weeks in the wasteland alone. It wasn't a question.
I had no choice.
Kira studied me for a long moment, her warrior's assessment making me feel exposed. Then she turned back to Dante. That still doesn't explain why you brought her here. Exile doesn't make her Wildlands. It makes her homeless.
The Thornwall opened for her, Dante said quietly.
The crowd's whispers stopped dead.
Kira went very still. That's impossible.
I watched it happen. The thorns parted. Let her walk through.
The Thornwall kills anyone who touches it! It hasn't opened for an outsider in three hundred years!
It opened for her.
Kira's eyes cut back to me, suspicious and sharp. Why? What are you?
I don't know, I admitted. I thought it would kill me. I wanted it to kill me. But instead
Burning pain exploded across my arms.
I gasped and looked down. The silver marks were glowing brighter, spreading. New runes appeared on my wrists, crawling up toward my elbows.
What's happening? Panic edged my voice.
The land is finishing the bonding, Dante said, moving closer. Marking you more completely now that you're in the Heartwood. At the heart of its power.
The marks burned hotter. I bit back a scream as symbols spread across my hands, each one searing into existence.
Show me, Kira demanded.
I held out my arms, shaking. The silver runes glowed like starlight against my skin, pulsing with each heartbeat.
Kira's breath caught. Her eyes went wide with shock. Those aren't just entry marks. Those are
Mate marks, Dante finished.
The crowd erupted.
Mate marks?
That's impossible!
The mate bonds are dead magic!
Kira grabbed my arm, examining the symbols closely. Her fingers traced one of the runes and she jerked back like she'd been burned. These are real. Ancient. I've only seen them in Elder Rowan's books.
She looked at Dante with something like horror. The land chose her as your mate?
Yes.
A kingdom noble? Kira's voice rose. The land bonded you to someone from the people who murdered your parents?
Pain lanced through the bond—Dante's old wound torn open. I felt his grief, his rage at the memory, his conflict about being tied to someone from the kingdoms.
But underneath it all, certainty. The land had chosen, and he trusted that choice even when it hurt.
She's not responsible for what they did, Dante said quietly.
She's still one of them!
No. I lifted my glowing arms. I'm not. They exiled me. Destroyed me. Left me to die. I'm not kingdom anymore.
Then what are you? Kira demanded.
Before I could answer, the marks flared blindingly bright. Power surged through me—wild, primal, overwhelming. The ground beneath my feet trembled.
Trees around us leaned in, branches reaching toward me like they were trying to touch me. The air itself seemed to hum with approval.
Ash materialized beside me, the land spirit pressing against my leg and purring so loud everyone could hear.
Elder Rowan's voice rang out from the crowd, ancient and awed:
She's not just his mate. She's a Keeper. The land has called a Keeper home.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Everyone stared at me, this dirty, broken exile, with expressions ranging from shock to terror to wonder.
What's a Keeper? I whispered.
Dante's hand found mine, his fingers lacing through my glowing ones. Through the bond, I felt his emotions: pride, possessiveness, and bone-deep relief.
The land's chosen heir, he said. Its voice. Its ruler. His amber eyes blazed. And if the kingdoms discover what you are, they'll do anything to kill you before you can claim your power.