He extended a hand toward Belle. “Believe I’d name this Yours.”

Kitten dangled from Daivad’s hand by the scruff of his neck. The beast’s yellow-green eyes were wide, his limbs tucked up in front of his belly, and the tip of his forked tongue (as well as a shred of Daivad’s pant leg) peeked out of his lips. Completely still, almost like the beast had gone into a trance.

Snort-laughing, Belle said, “Heavy as he weighs now, I’m amazed you can hold him up with one arm.”

She pulled Kitten once again into her arms, smearing even more mud and wet monster fur on her dress. She’d been in such a hurry to get to Kitten, to tell him about her trip to Toll, that she hadn’t grabbed a cloak. She’d need to make sure she got back to the castle before Richard so she had time to hide all evidence of her excursion. The thought wiped the smile from her face and the mirth from her voice.

Belle guided Kitten’s snout to her face and mashed a big, fearful kiss to it. “I have to go for a while, Kitten,” she explained, and repeated it in Xo. “You need to stay safe within the graveyard, to mind your manners, and listen to your big brother. Understand?”

He wrapped his arms around her neck and brightly replied, Kitten go.

“You can’t, Sweet Boy. Not even Julius can. It’ll be too dangerous for monsters.”

Not Kitten!

“Yes, even for you.”

Kitten snapped his jaws, Bite! Bite! Bite!

“I know, Sweet Boy.” Belle pulled up the furry part of Kitten’s lip to show his wicked teeth. “So strong and tough. But you’ll still be safer here.”

Kitten go!

“No, baby.” Belle shot Daivad a worried look. She wasn’t sure this would work. Even if she managed to convince Kitten to stay, to behave, before she headed back to the castle tonight, there was no guarantee he’d even remember what she’d said the next morning. Or the morning after. Or the week after. Eventually, he was sure to come looking for her. And at the rate Kitten was growing, Julius wouldn’t be able to rein him in much longer. “You need to stay here until I return, okay?”

Kitten swiped a tongue over Belle’s eyeball in response.

“Agh! Mother—” Belle attempted to blink the monster spit from her eye. Listen, Kitten, she said it sharp. She hated to get this tone with him, but she had to make him understand. Stay, for me. Understand? My trip will be hard. If I’m worrying about you, it will be harder. Something bad might happen. It’s important, Kitten. Stay!

Kitten go! Bite! Protect Mama Belle!

This was all too much. Daivad here. How much Kitten loved her and how very, very, very much she loved him. Those yellow-green eyes reminded her so much of Clarix’s, and if she lost this big baby like she had lost Clarix… For what felt like the hundredth time tonight, tears welled in Belle’s eyes.

No, Kitten. Her voice cracked, desperate.

“I’ll take him.”

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Both Belle and Kitten stared at Daivad. He shifted awkwardly in his sewage-smeared boots.

Belle blinked. “Take him?”

“If Max can keep Drauge and Kunin in line, this little beast will be no problem.” A churning blush was spreading across his magic.

Hope buzzed up Belle’s skin, drew her up to bounce on her toes. If Daivad and the Wolves were keeping an eye on Kitten while she was gone, that would lift a beast-sized weight off her mind. She could focus fully on Richard, on the mines, on surviving. And Kitten would feel so much freer in the village—

A wave of ice cold fear crashed over her at the same time that slick, warm, black rage spilled over her hands, her knees. Clarix’s desperate attempts to gasp for air. Her terrified, frantic eyes.

Kitten looked at Belle, perhaps sensing the shift in her. Those eyes…

“No,” Belle told Daivad. Flat.

The blush had drained from Daivad’s magic, and now it rolled in on itself, sticking close to him even as it boiled beneath the surface. Just looking at the powerful, twisting riptides, she felt a bit seasick.

Again, he moved his weight from one foot to the other, and back. “I’ll keep him safe.”

She looked him in the eye. Not at his magic, right in the eye. And the look alone was so bloated with meaning, with magic, that she felt no need to name her thoughts aloud.

His magic was a swirling, nauseating mess, but he didn’t drop his gaze. “I will.”

She was about to give him another No, but he continued in a lighter tone, “But you’ll owe Maxea. She’ll keep him out of danger and trouble, but it’ll be a heavy cost to her patience. She hates baby-sitting.”

Belle’s resolve wavered. Though his magic was still a mess, he spoke calm and sure—even a little lighthearted, for him. Something about it was steadying, and helped to keep her from slipping into the sucking, bottomless quicksand that was bitterness and spite.

But still.

“She did it,” Belle said, a harsh whisper. Daivad’s presence had popped enough of the locks she’d carefully set inside herself that a tender, furious part of herself had managed to peek out of the box, and with each word she squeezed a little further free. “She planned all of it. She knew Clarix was no threat, so she scared her, made her look like one just for the chance to murder her. To hurt me. You know that, don’t you?”

Eyes still on hers, Daivad said, “Yes.”

The part inside her screamed, but Belle kept her tone even. “What did you do about it?”

“You took care of that,” he said. “She looks half dead. Wandering the forest in the middle of the night in her sleeping clothes, talking to no one. Carving a curse rune into her own neck with her fingers.”

Belle let her gaze finally break from Daivad’s and squeezed Kitten to her, tucking his neck into hers, the cool, damp scales of that half of his head pressing into her skin. He smelled like mud and wet monster and innocence. The beast wheezed and squirmed, and Belle realized she was crushing him.

She needed to get back. She should have left the graveyard long ago. But here she was, frozen, terrified. She couldn’t leave Kitten here, she couldn’t take him with her, but she couldn’t let him go either.

It’s alright if you don’t know what to do, because your magic does.

Belle closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and listened.

She heard Daivad’s lips part, heard his breath hitch just short of speaking. And she heard his teeth clack together as he thought better of it. His magic still rolled, every once in a while a wave just breaking the surface, reaching toward her own magic, but without fail he would tug the stray back and smooth the surface once again.

When her eyes opened, his magic was still all she saw. She said, “If anything happens to him, I will hold you responsible, Daivad.”

Then, she extended a hand, and held out her pinky finger.

The turbulence in his magic shifted to a smoother, softer swirling around him. There was that sunrise just touching the edges of his magic again, blooming across as he stepped forward and hooked his own enormous, callused pinky finger in hers.

His voice stayed serious, if a touch relieved. “I swear it, Nyxabella. I’ll keep him safe.”