EMBER’S POV

“Finally,” Rayana drawls. “I thought we were going to have to hose you two down.”

“Shut up,” I say, but I’m grinning. “Let’s go eat your caribou.”

Dinner is a production.

Rafael has transformed the main lodge into something out of a fairy tale — candles everywhere, a fire roaring in the massive stone hearth, the table set with crystal and silver that catches the light like captured stars.

The food is ridiculous: caribou tenderloin with some kind of berry reduction, roasted vegetables that taste like they were grown by woodland sprites, bread so fresh it’s still steaming.

The wine flows freely, and so does the tension.

We’re...