Kael Duskwhisper pressed his back to a pine and watched the road. Three riders sat their horses where the trail narrowed. They carried chains and a wanted drawing of a horned man. The hunt had started again, and this time they watched every path. He needed to reach the noble's lands across the valley. He had traveled weeks to see her again. But his small horns marked him, and if he stepped onto that road he would be caught before he spoke a word. He pulled his hood low over his olive brow. His purple eyes tracked the riders. They would not leave. So he chose the hard way: the ravine below, cold water, and a long climb. He moved like a shadow between trunks and reached the edge. Then a boot scraped stone behind him. "Don't run, horned one." The voice was a woman's, sharp and sure. Kael turned. Lady Elara Thornwood stood on the slope above him, the one who led this hunt. Dark curls spilled past her shoulders. Freckles marked her cheeks. She wore armor like a soldier, not a noble, and she held a drawn blade that burned. Fire wrapped its crimson edge. Ghostly faces glowed along the steel. The light threw heat across the cold air. "You came to my lands," she said. "That was a mistake." She lunged. Kael slid aside and the burning blade struck the pine where his chest had been. Bark hissed and smoked. He drew his long knife and caught her next swing. Sparks flew. She fought well, fast and controlled, driving him toward the ravine's lip. His heel found empty air. Kael dropped low instead of back. He hooked her ankle and twisted. Elara fell hard. The flaming sword spun from her grip and bit into the dirt, still burning. He pinned her wrist and held his knife above her throat. She did not beg. She glared up with green eyes full of fire. The struggle had torn her hood loose. There, pushing through her dark curls, Kael saw two small horns. Hidden. Filed and painted to vanish, but horns all the same. He froze. She was like him. The woman who hunted his kind carried the same mark she killed them for. His heart struck once, hard, and would not settle. Elara saw where his gaze landed. Her face went white. "Kill me, then," she said, quiet now. "Or run." Kael lifted the knife away. He stood and stepped back. "I won't tell," he said. His own small horns caught the firelight as his hood fell. Her eyes widened. For a long breath neither moved. Then shouting rose on the road above. The riders had heard the blades. Kael seized the burning sword from the dirt and pressed the hilt into her hands. "Hide what you are," he said. "Like I do." Then he turned and ran into the trees, and he carried her secret now, and she carried his.