Marigold POV

A few kisses later.

By the time the fire settled into lazy orange coals, I’d stopped shaking. My body still ached like I’d been thrown through a blender, but the warmth helped. Gregor sat across from me, arms on his knees, staring at the flames like they personally offended him. Barbie, of course, was hovering above a puddle, using a leaf as a mirror to fix her soggy hair.

I poked the fire with a stick, trying to ignore how quiet it got. Quiet always meant something bad was ...