All Chapters of The Butcher's Bride: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Dinner was usually the only time the Bone Yard felt like a home.‎‎As the sun dipped behind the western ridge, painting the sky in bruises of purple and red, the rogues gathered around the central fire pit. It was a time for stories, for laughter, for forgetting that we were hunted outcasts living on the edge of starvation.‎‎I sat on a log near the periphery, nursing a bowl of Olara’s rabbit stew. My body ached from Kaelen’s training—a good ache, the kind that meant I was getting stronger—and for the first time in my life, I felt… content.‎‎I looked around for Jinx. The kid usually bounded over to me the moment I sat down, eager to steal a piece of bread or tell me a tall tale about how he fought a badger.‎‎"Has anyone seen Jinx?" I asked Olara, who was dishing out seconds.‎‎"Probably hiding," Olara grunted. "He skipped chopping wood today. Said his stomach hurt."‎‎A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. Jinx never skipped chores. He was terrified of being labeled "useless

Morning arrived not with a sunrise, but with a gasp.‎‎I woke up slumped in the chair beside Jinx’s cot, my neck stiff and my hand throbbing beneath the bandage Rhea had stitched. The sound that woke me was simple: a deep, ragged intake of breath.‎‎I bolted upright.‎‎Jinx was awake.‎‎The boy blinked his mismatched eyes, looking up at the canvas ceiling of the infirmary tent. The gray pallor was gone from his skin, replaced by a healthy, if pale, flush. The black veins that had spiderwebbed across his chest had retreated, leaving behind faint, bruise-like shadows.‎‎"Celeste?" he croaked, his voice sounding like he had swallowed gravel.‎‎"I'm here," I whispered, leaning over him. I brushed the damp hair from his forehead. He was cool to the touch. The fever had broken.‎‎"I had a weird dream," Jinx murmured, rubbing his eyes. "I dreamed you were feeding me... red juice. And you were glowing."‎‎I managed a weak, tired smile. "Just a dream, Jinx. How do you feel?"‎‎"Hungry

Morning didn't break; it bled into the cave in soft, gray ribbons of light.‎‎I woke up slowly, floating in a haze of warmth and comfort. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I forgot the war, the poison, and the broken ankle. I just felt… safe.‎‎I was lying on my side, curled into a ball. But instead of a cold pillow, my cheek was pressed against warm, bare skin. My hand was resting on a chest that rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. My leg was tangled with a much larger, heavier leg clad in rough denim.‎‎I breathed in deep. Pine. Rain. Woodsmoke.‎‎Memory crashed into me like a wave.‎‎The storm. The cave. Kaelen.‎‎I froze, my heart giving a violent thud against my ribs.‎‎I wasn't just sleeping near the Rogue King. I was draped over him like a blanket. And his arm, his massive, heavy arm, was wrapped tight around my waist, holding me flush against him.‎‎I should have moved. I should have scrambled away and apologized.‎‎But I didn't.‎‎I lay there, paralyzed by the

The air in Dr. Aris’s cave smelled of damp earth and triumph.‎‎"It works," Aris breathed, holding a beaker up to the light of the lantern.‎‎Inside, the purple liquid was turning clear. The Nightshade roots we had risked our lives to retrieve were reacting with the Wolfsbane samples, neutralizing the toxin.‎‎"This will stabilize the boy," Aris said, his hands shaking with excitement. "And anyone else who drinks the tainted water. We can inoculate the camp."‎‎I slumped against the cold stone wall, exhaustion finally hitting me. We had been working for hours since we got back. Mud still caked my boots, and Kaelen’s leather jacket was heavy on my shoulders.‎‎"Good," Kaelen said. He was standing by the cave entrance, keeping watch. He looked at Aris. "How long to make enough for the whole pack?"‎‎"Three days," Aris estimated. "Maybe two if I don't sleep."‎‎"Do it in two," Kaelen commanded.‎‎Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed in the tunnel outside.‎‎Torian burst int

The drums of the Moon Festival faded behind us, swallowed by the dense treeline.‎‎Kaelen led me away from the firelight, down a narrow deer path that wound toward the river. His hand was still wrapped around mine warm, rough, and anchoring.‎‎We stopped at the water’s edge. The river was calm tonight, a ribbon of black silk reflecting the full moon above. The air here was cooler, smelling of wet stone and moss, a stark contrast to the smoke and sweat of the dance.‎‎Kaelen let go of my hand. He walked to the water’s edge and skipped a stone across the surface. Plip. Plip. Plip.‎‎He turned to look at me. The moonlight softened the sharp angles of his face, turning the scar on his jaw into a silver line. He looked younger. Less like a King, more like a man.‎‎"You're quiet," he said.‎‎"I'm trying to catch my breath," I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself. The adrenaline of the dance and the kiss was fading, leaving me shivering slightly in the cool air.‎‎Kaelen noticed i