Page 94 of A Petal in the Crown

In that moment, Gray made a vow—a vow stronger than any he’d ever made before—a vow etched into the very fabric of his being.

“I will find you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his throat raw. “I will find you, Lea,beforeyou find him.” He would not let her face Alaric alone. He would burn Alaric’s entire army to ash if he had to. He would rip the world apart if that’s what it took. And when he did find Alaric, when he faced his brother at last, Gray would prove to him that no matter how much power he had stolen, he was the weaker Nestruir. He would trap Alaric inside his shadows, pin him down with every ounce of hatred and fury that had been festering in his heart for years, and he would hold him there. Helpless. Only then, when he was there at his mate’s side, would he allow Lea to deliver that final, killing blow—the blow that would free them all.

It didn’t matter that Alaric was the strongest Fae in the kingdom, that his power could shake mountains and bring down the sky. None of it mattered.Nothingwas stronger than Gray’s love for Lea. Not the gods. Not destiny. Not the universe itself. And certainly not his fucking brother.

Gray clenched his jaw, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs as he urged Obsidian to go faster. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and still, his shadows spread out in every direction, hunting, searching. He could feel them yearning, just as he was, desperate to find that one flicker of light that was Lea.

“You will not take her from me,” Gray snarled at the storm. At the darkness. At the gods themselves. “Do you hear me? You will not take her from me!”

Because she was his mate, his life, his everything. And he would tear the world apart, piece by piece, if it meant getting her back.

Chapter 60

Erik

Erik waited, his muscles tense and his magic thrumming, until he was absolutely certain every last tremor had finally rumbled away into nothing. The quake felt like a cruel joke, as if the gods were taunting him. Testing him. They had practically delivered Stefan and Jakob into his hands—set them before him on a silver platter, ready to be cooked alive, gutted, and roasted to the temperature of his choosing. And then, just when he was about to claim his victory, the earth had fought back. A massive earthquake, shaking the ground and stealing away his moment of retribution.

Erik could feel Jakob escaping, the tether connecting them growing tighter with each passing minute as he fled south. Yet Erik hadn’t been willing to take the risk of following him in case the quake started up again. Not when doing so meant putting Janelle in danger of being hurt. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being injured, so he’d remained frozen, crouched low as he waited with every nerve on edge.

“I think it’s over,” Janelle said, her voice soft and tentative as she carefully rose to her feet.

Erik remained in his crouch, eyes on the ground, listening and waiting. Any slight movement could set off another quake. For all he knew, another would start at any moment. But the earth beneath them heldsteady, unmoving, as solid as stone. Slowly, Erik straightened. He took one careful step forward, then another, adrenaline building in his chest until the impulse to move became overwhelming. In one swift motion, he scooped Janelle into his arms, carrying her as he sprinted toward Cinnamon, who stood pawing the ground just beyond the clearing as if waiting for them.

Erik settled Janelle atop the horse, then grabbed the reins. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his senses to find the trail again—the string of magic connecting him to Jakob. He pictured the kingdom in his mind, mapping out an image as he tracked Jakob’s location—south, but then west, moving in the direction of Pontor. Erik tightened his grip on the reins.

He pointed Cinnamon toward the trail and kicked her sides to urge her forward, plunging them deeper into the woods. “Where are we going?” Janelle asked, looking up at the canopy of trees above them as if terrified the branches would rain down on them again.

“I don’t think there’ll be another quake,” Erik murmured, more to himself than to her. “Not now. I’m not letting them get away.” He pulled Janelle closer against him, his hand brushing across the familiar scar on her hip. It sent fire through his veins, and he grit his teeth, fighting to hold in his flames. He wanted to save them—every last flicker—to incinerate the men he hunted.

Janelle took a shaky breath. “We should just let them go,” she said quietly. “Move on to Alnwick. We need to find the camp and Alaric. We can focus on Jakob after the war, Erik. I’m alright…”

Heat surged in Erik’s chest, his anger and desire for vengeance further stoking the fire inside him. “I’m not letting him go,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle, but the edge was unmistakable. Janelle leaned back against him, as if she understood his resolve, and Erik exhaled in relief, grateful she wasn’t arguing with him. Because there was nothing shecould say to change his mind. Revenge burned in his blood like a wildfire, and there would be no dousing it. Not until Jakob was dead.

Once more, Erik turned his senses to his magic, isolating the long, invisible thread that connected him to Jakob. He was moving further south, directly toward the Wicked Wood bordering Pontor.

“Is he close?” Janelle asked, glancing back at Erik, her voice tense.

Erik shook his head. “Maybe twenty minutes ahead of us. We lost time waiting for the quake to pass, but they’re not too far.”

Janelle stiffened.

“It’s fine. We’ll catch up to him—”

“No.” She shook her head, reaching to grip the saddle. Her head swiveled around, and she leaned forward to peer ahead of them.

“What is it?” Erik asked, his instincts immediately heightening, every sense on high alert.

Janelle hesitated, her gaze darting to the trees surrounding them. “Are you absolutely sure we’re going the right way?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Erik followed the thread again, tracing it as it tugged further away. “I’m certain,” he said. “They’re heading southwest, toward Pontor.”

Janelle’s eyes went wide. “That’s where Gray and Lea were headed, Erik. But there’s danger there. I can sense it. We need to turn around. Or…” She paused, her voice urgent as she added, “Or go faster. If Gray and Lea are there…” she trailed off, her mind clearly racing as quickly as his was. “What if Alaric’s waiting? What if it’s a trap? Or they’re in trouble somehow?”

Her words came fast, tumbling out of her mouth as her worry and fear spilled over. Erik’s stomach dropped, a heavy realization settling in. He’d been right—the godsweretoying with him, dangling his need for revenge as bait, luring them into danger.

Janelle’s magic was never wrong. If she sensed trouble ahead, and Gray and Lea were at risk, they couldn’t ignore it.

Erik slowed Cinnamon’s pace, twisting Janelle in the saddle to face him. He cupped her face with his hands, his gaze intense. “I have to go after them, Janelle. This could be our only chance. But if you’d rather stay behind, I can take you back. You could wait for me. Wait until I come get you—”

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