The grin returned, smug and pleased with himself, before he dropped onto his own mat.
Jakobav was arranging camp, pretending not to listen, but Ella caught the twitch of his hand, and the way his shoulders loosened only once she had finally relented. He dragged their shared bedroll to the far side of the fire, half shielded by saddles and packs, then turned to address the group.
“If anything slips through the trees, it will come from this direction,” he said, tone clipped. “I’m taking first watch. If my eyes start to get heavy, I’ll wake one of you.”
Thane arched a brow but didn’t argue. The others nodded, then scattered toward their own sleeping mats on the opposite side of the fire, embers popping softly as the camp settled.
Jakobav remained standing, one hand near his sword, his gaze fixed on the dark beyond the circle of light.
Ella cleared her throat. He turned slowly, lifting a brow as if to ask what trouble she planned to start now.
“Of course you volunteer for guard duty,” she said.
“Watching people sleep seems to be a favorite pastime of yours.”
He paused at that, the jab hanging between them. Then he stepped close, hooked two fingers beneath her chin, and lifted it in a brief, silent tilt, his eyes unreadable.
A softtskslipped from him, something like amusement or a warning—she couldn’t tell—and he shook his head once before releasing her and walking away without a word.
Ella exhaled through her nose, heat prickling the back of her neck. She lowered herself into what would be their shared bedroll and tugged the blanket into place.
It wasn’t long before Jakobav returned from his final sweep along the perimeter. He lowered himself beside her, settling on the edge of the mat, his body angled toward the trees in a posture that was both rest and vigilance.
Ella wasn’t sure what unsettled her more: the thought of sharing a bedroll with him, or the way her body betrayed her by welcoming his warmth. The night had turned bone-cold, a bitter wind threading through every seam of her cloak before gathering at the back of her neck and sending a shiver through her. Her breath misted in the air as she tucked herself closer, trying not to notice the slow, steady rhythm of Jakobav’s breathing inches away.
They weren’t touching. Not really. Yet the bedroll was narrow, and the heat radiating from him seemed to bleed into her, infuriating in its persistence, though perhaps the heat was her own. Her skin felt tight and fevered, as though something deep within her was pushing against the cold, straining to break free, humming in the dark.
She closed her eyes and willed herself toward sleep, but it refused to come. Her thoughts spun too loudly, and his presence was louder still, each shift of muscle beneath his shirt pulling her attention, every piece of him impossible to ignore.
And then it happened. Ella’s eyes snapped open as heat bloomed, not a gentle warmth but a small searing fire, a sudden blaze rising from within her. Flames crawled across her skin as a quiet hiss split the air. She looked down in horror to see the fabric of her shirt blackening, burning away in slow strips until each thread shriveled, and vanished into ash, exposing more of her with every frantic heartbeat.
“Oh shit,” she breathed.
She reached for the fur cover…only then realizing it had been kicked halfway down the bedroll sometime in her sleep. Herfingers scrambled for it, but she was too slow, too shocked, too bare.
Beside her, Jakobav jerked upright with a harsh inhale.
A thin wisp of smoke rose from a single scorched line along the edge of the bedroll, then the fire was nothing more. The small flame had died as if an unseen hand had pinched it out, leaving only that faint mark behind.
Her fire had never done that.
It had always spared her skin, but before she learned control, it devoured anything close—rope, cloth, bedding, whatever happened to be near her.
Tonight was different. Tonight the flames had chosen. Only her clothes had burned, cleanly and completely, while the rest had barely been touched. It had to be the breach. Her magic was misfiring, burning in ways that were selective and unpredictable.
“What the—” Jakobav’s hand shot out and grasped her shoulder before he hissed and wrenched back like her skin was scorching hot to the touch. And now nothing hid what the flames had taken.
She was naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. To the cold. To him. And gods, to the quiet camp surrounding them.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, breath shattering in her chest. If Maeren turned over or if Thane sat up, if Savina opened her eyes for even a moment… Panic knifed through her.
Her voice came out in a sharp whisper. “Do not say a word.”
“Wasn’t going to,” he whispered back, voice hoarse and rough. “Not with my First Guard. Right. There.” His voice had turned to pure threat, like he would personally murder anyone who even thought about lifting their head to look at her. “Ella. Do not move. Do not scream.”
His gaze dragged over her bare skin again, slow and tortured, his jaw clenching as if the sight physically hurt him. Ash drifted between them in fragile flakes, catching in the firelight.
“I didn’t do this on purpose,” she whispered, arms folding tight across her chest.
