JJ leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Thing is, I've seen your face before, Guinevere. Not in person — in sketches. Rough ones, traded between hunters in the border towns. Warnings."

Her brow furrowed. "Warnings about me?"

He nodded slowly. "Aye. Not many names were written, but yours... yours came up more than once. Some say you're the key to whatever the Hollowborn are after. Others say you're cursed, carryin' somethin' that draws 'em in."

Guinevere shook her head, her voice tightening. "That's absurd. I've never—"

JJ raised a hand to stop her. "And then there's the other thing. The man who took you before — Bedivere. You think it was his choice?"

She hesitated. "He said it was for survival."

"Exactly." JJ's gaze darkened. "I'd wager he was tryin' to get you away before the Hollowborn found you. If he's still breathin', he might even be out there now, fightin' to keep them off your trail."

Her chest tightened. The thought of Bedivere lying hurt — or worse — because of her made her stomach twist.

JJ poked the fire, sending sparks spiraling upward. "Whatever's markin' you, lass, it's not goin' away. And if we don't figure it out, they'll keep comin'. Harder. Smarter. Hungrier."

The silence that followed felt heavy, broken only by the crackle of flames and the distant, eerie call of a raven somewhere in the dark.

JJ's expression shifted as though he were weighing whether to speak the next words at all. Finally, he leaned back on the log, firelight flickering across his features.

"There's another piece to this," he said slowly. "One I didn't think you'd believe if I told you too soon."

Guinevere narrowed her eyes. "You've already told me monsters are hunting me. I think we're past the point of disbelief."

JJ's lips quirked faintly. "Fair enough. There's a man — a prince, goes by the name Drakous. Handsome devil, all charm and fine clothes, but there's steel under all that polish. He's from across the northern sea, in a kingdom that's more teeth than crown. I was told he was to be wed in an arranged match."

Her brow furrowed. "And what does this have to do with me?"

JJ's gaze fixed on her, his Irish lilt softening. "Because the bride he was promised? She vanished before the wedding. No ransom note, no trace. Folks started callin' her the White Princess."

A cold, uneasy feeling twisted in her chest. "And you think—"

"I don't think, lass. I know." He leaned forward, eyes locking on hers. "Guinevere... you're her. The White Princess.

Guinevere stood frozen, her mind tumbling over JJ's words. The fire crackled between them, casting long shadows that seemed to lean closer, as if listening.

JJ rose from his seat, his movements easy but deliberate. "I know it's a lot to take in, lass. And I know you don't trust me yet. But I've spent my life huntin' things like the Hollowborn. I've lost folk to them. I'm not about to lose you too."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I'll keep you safe, White Princess. No matter what it takes. You've my word on that."

His green eyes softened, the intensity in them shifting to something gentler. "You're brave, y'know. And... pretty as a midsummer sunrise."

Heat rose to her cheeks before she could stop it, and she quickly looked away, trying to mask the flustered flutter in her chest.

JJ smirked faintly at her reaction, but didn't push further. "We'll get you home, Guinevere. In one piece. You have my promise."

Outside the glow of the firelight, the forest whispered and shifted, but for the first time since she'd run from Bedivere, she felt a flicker of something unfamiliar.

Hope.

The next morning, Guinevere woke to the smell of baking bread and the low murmur of voices. She sat up, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the pines.

A young woman was crouched near the fire pit, turning a flat round of bread over a skillet. She had the same green eyes as JJ, though her hair was a brighter, sunlit gold. When she looked up, she smiled warmly.

"You must be Guinevere," she said, her Irish accent as lilting as JJ's but lighter. "I'm Libbet — JJ's sister."

Guinevere returned the smile shyly. "It's nice to meet you."

Libbet's gaze flicked over her, taking in her tangled hair and travel-worn gown. "He wasn't lyin' when he said you were pretty," she said with a teasing wink. "Prettier than the ballads, even. Though that may not be a good thing, given the dangers stalkin' these woods."

Her tone grew more serious as she passed Guinevere a steaming piece of bread. "It's not just the Hollowborn you have to worry about. Word travels fast in these parts. Folks are already whisperin' about the White Princess. Some say you've the blood of the fey in you — that your mother's line carries their magic. Others say your father's Viking blood gives you the strength of a warlord."

Guinevere stilled, the bread warm in her hands. "Half fey... half Viking?" She glanced toward the trees, uncertainty knotting in her chest. "Is that why they're after me?"

Libbet hesitated, clearly weighing how much to say. "It could be part of it. Fey blood calls to things in the dark. And if you're truly—"

"Libbet."

JJ's voice cut through the air, calm but edged. He strode into the clearing, bow in hand, a fresh string of fish slung over his shoulder. "That's enough for one night — or morning. She's got more questions than we've answers for right now."

"But—" Libbet began.

"No," JJ said firmly, setting the fish down by the fire. "Too much too soon can be as dangerous as any Hollowborn."

Libbet pressed her lips together, clearly wanting to say more, but fell silent.

Guinevere looked between them, a dozen questions burning in her mind — but for now, she swallowed them, knowing JJ would not be moved.