Chapter 53

Iris

We don’t speak much on the walk back.

Lucien holds my hand, and I grip his tighter than I probably should. The haunting images of what we saw won’t leave me alone—the mindless fae, the rotting food, and those trees. Gods, those trees.

I can’t unsee the faces. The silent screams.

Lucien squeezes my hand when we reach the cottage, most likely because he knows what’s going on inside my mind. He