“Found them,” he called to Elm. “They were kissing.” I blushed down to my roots, hiding my face in Ravyn’s cloak. He smiled sheepishly, taking my hand and leading us back into the garden. Elm and Emory waited for us down the path, their arms crossed over their chests. Elm rolled his eyes. “Trees, we get it. No need to rub our noses in it.” “What a shame,” Emory sighed, his eyes tracing me. “Here I was, thinking she’d come to kiss me. That’s how the fairy tale goes, isn’t it? Beautiful maiden saves sick boy with a kiss—boy miraculously heals and delivers the kingdom from dark magic.” “Almost,”
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