A warm breeze brushed my cheek.
Yet, nothing stirred the leaves.
I returned to the camp dazed. Blood and moss streaked and tore my skirts. My hands trembled as I peeled them open, raw with scratches. My knees ached, and my scalp itched where twigs and leaf litter had tangled in my loose hair. Strands clung to my face, damp with sweat and forest air.
I smelled of smoke, loam, and crushed herbs, like something newly unearthed.
But it was as if...
I was weightless.
Inside, I sensed a change. Something had settled.
“Wyn,” Jasira said, standing. She thrust a waterskin at me, brow knit with worry. “Where the hell were you?”
“Eat something,” Gideon called. “Or I’ll feed you myself.”
Alaric glanced up from polishing his blade, froze, then tossed it aside and hurried toward me, his expression twisting between relief and exasperation.
“Wyn, are you hurt?” he asked, eyes scanning me from head to toe.
Before I responded, Erindor rose.
“Someone could have killed you,” he snapped, stepping forward. “This isn’t a garden, Princess. You don’t wander off.”
I flinched at the heat in his voice.
“I was fine.”
“You were gone for an hour,” he said through gritted teeth. “We thought someone had taken you.” His jaw was tight, a silent tension of anger in his shoulders. It was a controlled storm, simmering beneath the surface, a bitter tang of scolding laced with a surprising thread of worry.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have the words.
He stepped closer, and for a moment, the tension held. Then, something in his eyes shifted. The hard lines in his brow softened slightly as he took in the dirt on my skirt, the dried blood, the scratches on my hands. He exhaled quietly and long, as if releasing a breath held captive for far too long. His gaze flicked to mine, expecting another retort. But I didn’t speak. I didn’t have the energy to.
That’s when he saw it, really saw it. I wasn’t the disobedient princess or the reckless girl, but a trembling body in borrowed strength that was barely holding it together. His mouth tightened, then released.
“You’re not fine,” he breathed quietly, like it hurt to admit it. “Sit,” he said gently. “Rest. We’ll sort it out.”
I didn’t meet his eyes.
I couldn’t
Something in me was too raw. Too bright.
I sat near the fire, it burned low and cautiously now. There were no sparks or warmth beyond its borders. But enough light to keep the dark from swallowing us. Jasira acted at once; she knelt beside me and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.
“You scared us,” she whispered. “Next time you decide to do something foolish, at least take me with you; that way, we can do it together.”
A shaky breath left me. I didn’t trust my voice not to crack, not yet.
Erindor’s gaze stayed steady.
I thought of the stag. Of the blood and the way it bowed in front of me.
I thought of the warmth still humming beneath my skin like golden light.
And I thought—
