Shock flickered across his face, followed by something even more frightening—recognition. He spoke, his voice so hoarse and cracked from disuse that it took her a long moment to realize he was speaking Valenya. A shiver raced down her spine, the air cracklingaround her as the shadows’ whispers fractured into desperate, pleading cries.
She opened her mouth to tell him that she couldn’t understand him—that he would have to speak common, but before a single word could leave her lips, the dream lurched around her. The male dropped her wrist and Araya stumbled back as he rose to his feet with lithe grace and the whispers around them rose to an earsplitting wail.
The shadows wanted her to stay—to listen and understand. But Araya couldn’t stop the dream from shattering, breaking into a thousand pieces as it collapsed around her. The last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her was his bright green gaze—burning and desperate.
And then—nothing.
Araya jolted awake,thrashing against the lingering remnants of the dream as it disintegrated around her.
A dream.Just a dream—a nightmare.
Araya took a deep breath, trying to ground herself in the waking world. But—this wasn’t her bed.Herbed was narrow and hard as rock, with rough, cheap linens and an old, patched quilt.Thisbed wrapped around her like a cloud, and the silk sheets tangled around her limbs smelled faintly of vanilla and sage.
Araya scanned the dimly lit room, her gaze catching on the glint of silver—Serafina’s dress, neatly draped over an overstuffed chair. Araya’s gaze snapped down to her body, taking in the oversized men’s shirt she was wearing.
She was in Jaxon’s bed. Wearing his shirt.
Araya dragged a pillow over her face.Reckless, stupid fool, she cursed herself. The last thing she remembered clearly was Jaxon guiding her out of the Gilded Lily—had he carried her in from the carriage? Changed her into his shirt and tucked her into his bed?
Had they?—?
No. She would have remembered. Wouldn’t she?
A flicker of memory surfaced—Jaxon’s voice, low and amused, as he’d pulled the blankets over her. His fingers brushing her cheek before retreating. “Sleep, Starling. We’ll talk in the morning.”
The tension in Araya’s chest eased. Jaxon had done exactly what he promised—put her to bed untouched. Relief uncoiled inside her, warm and certain.
And yet…
She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the dull ache behind her eyes. How much of last night had been her own choice, and how much had been carefully placed in front of her?
Did it even matter? She had what she needed—what she wanted. Jaxon would keep her safe. Forever..
So why did it feel like she had simply followed a path he’d already laid at her feet?
And, most importantly—where was Jaxon now?
Araya threw back the sheets, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and burying her toes in the plush rug. Jaxon’s shirt was long enough to brush her thighs—modest enough, she supposed, to go looking for the man she’d agreed to bond herself to after spending the night in his bed.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to find outside the bedroom, but it wasn’t the chaos that greeted her.
Trunks lined the walls in haphazard stacks—some shoved into corners, others gaping open, their contents spilling onto the floor. Books and loose parchment cluttered every surface, creating a maze of disarray.
In the middle of it all stood Jaxon, bent over one of the larger trunks, muttering under his breath as he rifled through its contents. His brown hair stuck out in all directions, making him look almost as frazzled as she felt.
Araya couldn’t help herself. She let out an involuntary laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth too late.
Jaxon straightened, his head snapping toward her. His expression was uncharacteristically open—so much so that her lingering worries faded. Whatever she’d done, he wasn’t angry.
“I’m glad my misery is amusing to you, Starling,” he said, gesturing helplessly to the chaos around him. “I think they rolled my trunks back from Elvanfal. Apparently, they wanted to make sure I never find anything again.”
“So, you’re really back?” Araya asked. She stepped cautiously into the room, picking her way through the mess toward him. “I think I had a dream where you said you’d requested a transfer back to Aetheris.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember,” Jaxon replied with a laugh. His gaze swept over her, lingering in a way that made her blush. “You were incredibly drunk.”
Araya winced. “I’m sorry?—”
“I was the one handing you drinks.” Jaxon waved off her apology.
