Page 89 of Savage Crown

Neither do I.

But the air between us shifts—like the moment before a blade is driven into flesh, before the pain truly begins.

She is the key.

She was always meant to be.

The revelation settles in my ribs like a slow, sinking weight.

I should have known.

No.

I should have seen.

Every piece of the puzzle was laid before me, yet I refused to grasp the full shape of it.

I called her a little thief, convinced she had simply stumbled into this war with reckless hands and a hunger for survival.

But she didn’t stumble.

She was placed.

Marked. Chosen.

Not by accident.

Not by fate.

But by something deeper.

Something far more dangerous.

I turn, slowly.

She stands near the fire, arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to contain the truth she just gave me.

She won’t meet my eyes.

Smart.

If she did—if she saw the way I am looking at her now—she would run.

And I would chase her.

“Who knew?” I murmur, my voice quiet.

She exhales, steady. “Knew what?”

I let my thumb trace her cheek, slow, calculated.

“Donottoy with me.”

Her pulse thrums against my fingers.

“Who put this on you?” I press, my voice turning to steel. “Who made you the key?”

Her breath shudders. I feel her throat work through a swallow.

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