The area Ace leads me to is in poor condition and so are the homes, most look like they would fall over with a good push. And yet, nostalgia rushes over me as we creep quietly through the early morning, doing our best not to wake the sleeping families.

Before my father appeared, I spent most of my childhood in a town very much like Willow's Green, living in a house very similar. A familiar image begins to rise in my mind, pulled from the dregs where I buried it. A woman with hair that catches fire in the sun and eyes drowning in sadness. It's a face I want to cherish but time has stolen most of the memory; my mother.

"Here we are," Ace says, thumping his hand against a door to a small house with a thatch roof.

I eye it, frowning.

"You think with all the gold you've won that you could afford to live better."

"I think this is less conspicuous."

"If you want to be less conspicuous you might want to consider a new line of work."

"You're probably right." He chuckles, and opens the door, welcoming me to enter his home with a gesture.

I step into the house, the early morning light streaming in through the small opening that must be the window. It only takes a moment for my eyes to adjust—the room isn't much to look at. There is a single bed in the far corner, near some rendition of a pieced together stove. A makeshift table that is made from a barrel and a slab of wooden planks. 

The door slaps close as Ace steps in behind me, crowding my space for a quick breath. My body lights up, the hairs on my arms rising to attention. I don't want to be the one to look like they're running away, so I remain where I am.

He leans into me and says, "Take a seat. I'll get the letter and make us something warm to drink."

I shiver, but use the excuse of sitting to put space between us. I find a crate near the table and prop myself on it.

"Skip the drink. The letter is all I need."

Ace wanders to his bed, squatting down and pulling up a loose floorboard. I watch as he dips his hand into it and pulls out a metal box. I'm certain that must be where he's hidden all his gold. Then he reaches in again, pulling out a cloth bag that is cinched tightly at the top.

He holds the bag close, shooting a glance over his shoulder at me. The way it's cradled in his hand tells me all I need to know. Whatever its contents are, they are more valuable to Ace than gold. Gently, he sets it down in his bed next to the metal box.

One last dip of his hand through the hole and he pulls out an envelope that appears a bit aged. I rise from the crate and cross the small distance between us. 

He holds it out to me. My hand is trembling and as much as I want to snatch it away from him—I can't get myself to take it. These are the last words of Liam. Once I have them, once I know what he was protecting us from—there will be no going back. And I will have to accept that Liam is gone.

Gone.

My knees go weak at the thought. I lower myself to the floor next to Ace, gaze fixed on the letter. The ink stain of my name scrawled across the envelope. I want to cry at the sight of Liam's atrocious handwriting.

"Elizabet—"

Ace speaks my name, for the first time and with such gentle reverence that it draws my attention to him. Our gazes clash in the dim, morning light streaming in through the pathetic window nearby.

"That's a beautiful name." 

I nod, eyes shifting from his face to my name on the envelope.

"My mother—" the words caught in my throat.

What am I trying to say? Am I about to share these memories with Ace? Get a grip, Elizabet. We can't trust this person, mate or not.

I shake my head, biting down into my lip. I almost lost myself in the moment; in the grief—in the matebond.

"Your mother?"

"She named me. I didn't think too much about it," I say, flatly snatching the envelope from his hand, folding it and tucking it into the side pocket of my bag.

The urge to read Liam's letter makes the bag seem twenty pounds heavier. But I push myself up off the ground, getting to the dock and finding a boat heading north is my goal now. I can read the letter once I've secured that and I've put distance between me and my family.

Ace rises beside me. He's good at reading the mood of the room, shifting on to the next thing with ease.

"Now, where are you headed?"

I throw a side-long glance in his direction, watching as he opens the metal box and begins shoveling the gold into the pockets of the jacket he bartered from the inn attendant.

"To the dock to find a ride north."

I don't know why I tell him, but I want to blame our connection. My feet seem reluctant to obey my desire to leave. Or maybe it's the growing weight in my chest at the thought of parting. All I know is this is infuriating and inconvenient.

Ace nods, and grabs his bag, tying it tight to his waist, testing to make sure it's hidden beneath his jacket.

"Though I still think there is more than enough time for a drink before we go. I'm ready."

"Go?"

He meets my bewildered stare, brow arching.

"To the dock?"

"Who?"

"Us." Ace gestures between the two of us.

My mind clears from the surprise, realizing Ace has every intention of continuing as my travel companion. A harsh laugh bubbles out of my chest, edging close to hysteria.

"You're not coming with me."

"Course I am. You want me to stay here after everything you did last night?"

Irritation sings through my veins at the ridiculous fluttering of my stomach at the notion of his tagging along. Having a mate makes one completely out of sorts and lose all rational thought, apparently.

"How is last night my fault?"

He leans forward, lifting his hand to his mouth like he's going to tell me a secret.

"You killed those people."

I blink, once—twice.

"They were trying to kill you."

"So, you were worried about me?"

He smiles at me, the dawn reflecting in his gaze.

I point a finger at him, words failing me. How am I supposed to handle this man? Even if I wanted to leave him, he clearly has the skills to track me. Honestly, would I even be able to get away if I tried? My eyes narrow in frustration and suspicion.

"Fine, we go to the dock together, but you find another ship—going somewhere else." 

His smile falls a bit at my response. Though, he recovers quick enough that it's hard to know if I imagined it or not. Ace steps to me, our chest almost bumping with every breath we take.

"What's in the north?"

"None of your business."

"Still, don't trust me?" he asks.

"Of course not."

Ace pushes his face closer to mine, and warmth rush up the back of my neck and settles at the tips of my ears.

"Even after everything we've been through? I even killed that assassin for you."

"That only makes you more suspicious. And I could have handled that myself," I muse.

He's wearing a playful pout. But his eyes are dull, more than anything I get the sense this is all about trying to maintain his facade. I get it, now. He doesn't want me to trust him. But he also wants something from me—maybe that's not it either. Perhaps it's not that he wants something from me but needs something from me. 

"We're mates, doesn't that count for something?"

I choke on the air that rushes from my lungs at his sudden announcement. That is the last thing I expected him to say. I thought we were both going to go on not talking about—guess I was wrong.

Coughing, I say, "What's that got to do with anything?"

He shrugs.

"Maybe everything, maybe nothing. Just curious if that is information that will count toward your trusting me."

"Absolutely not!"

"That's good."

"Huh?"

Once again I'm at a loss for words. My mate—I mean, Ace is an enigma and beyond my ability to handle. He's the type of person one survives, much like a natural disaster. 

"Regardless, you should consider yourself lucky to have met me. I know most of the people of Willow's Green. Finding you a vessel going north should be a piece of cake for me."

"Honestly, I'm more concerned because people know you..." I mutter.

"Come on, let's go. We can work out the details of our travels later.

"There's nothing to work out I told you—"

Ace grabs my hand in his and yanks me toward the door, ignoring everything else.

"To the north, we go!"