“Faythe, whatever you’re planning, let me help,” he begged. She shook her head. “Marlowe knows. Tell her you saw me tonight and let her tell you everything. Everything I’m sorry I never got the chance to tell you myself. Nik—” She paused, choking on whatever her next sentence was meant to be. “Don’t do anything foolish. I’m coming with you. I’ll come to Rhyenelle—” “No.”
