The caravan stretched like a scar through the forest, a slow-moving line of warriors, supply wagons, and watchful scouts. The sun filtered through the branches above, casting dappled gold across armor and bruises. Hollow Mountain loomed in the far distance, its jagged silhouette a dark promise against the sky.

It wasn’t the honeymoon Celeste had imagined. Then again, nothing about the last forty-eight hours had followed the script.

She rode at the head of the group, flanked by Lis and ...