When the late sun reflected across the ink winding his arm, it shimmered faintly, black fire stitched into muscle, and she averted her gaze before memory carried her too far into what she’d just seen those arms and hands do. She should have been alarmed by the brutality and ease with which Jakobav fought the Veil Leach after it had focused its violence on her. Yet, her gut feeling leaned inexplicably toward intrigue.
He held the reins steady in one hand, while the other settled on her thigh, anchoring her as the horse picked up a trot, spooked by something unseen. His touch didn’t lift again. She drifted toward sleep not long after, the line between waking and dreaming blurring until she no longer knew whether the tightening of his grip when the horse jolted was real or part of the haze pulling her under.
Ella stirred as they reached a clearing, the sky bleeding from gold into deepening gray. Jakobav swung down first, his boots pressing quietly into moss and stone. Still thick with sleep, she shifted to dismount but swayed, and Jakobav caught her before she slipped, his hands steady at her waist. She blinked up at him, disoriented by the sudden stillness beneath her feet. He didn’t speak, only guided her forward toward where they’d make camp for the night.
The spot he’d chosen was a quiet, small hollow tucked beneath an overhang where moss-cloaked boulders leaned close, shielding the space from wind. Ferns bordered the hollow like silent sentinels, and above them, the moon flickered between restless clouds, pale and watchful in the dark.
Jakobav set to work on the fire.
Ella pulled the meager food from the pack and tore free a strip of dried meat, handing it across the fire. Jakobav took it without hesitation, teeth sinking in with the ease of a man long accustomed to rations. He chewed, swallowed, then said evenly,“I’ve survived on worse,” the faint curve of his mouth betraying the closest thing to a smile.
Ella rolled her eyes and claimed a strip for herself, chewing with exaggerated stubbornness as though to prove she was unimpressed by the hardship.
They ate in silence, the fire crackling and spitting in the damp air, its glow licking faintly at stone and skin while the wind threaded through the canopy above, carrying secrets from one branch to the next.
Jakobav finally spoke, his voice low enough that she knew their unspoken truce to avoid serious discussion was over. “Can we talk about what happened? When you vanished.”
Ella did not look at him. Her focus stayed fixed on the flames, following the way they flared, how they bent with the wind as though mocking her lack of control. At last she shook her head, her voice flat. “I don’t even know what to say.”
He nodded once, his reply almost a whisper. “I know what it’s like to carry something heavy, waiting, not yet ready to be spoken.”
Her head snapped toward him before she could stop herself.
The words were too close, too knowing. But he didn’t press her on her secrets. Instead, he laid another log on the fire, each movement extended, as though he understood she was unraveling and was content to wait her out.
“We’ll stay here tonight.”
Ella wanted to tell him she’d already figured that much out, but she saw the subject change for the mercy it was. So instead, she stayed still, weighing her answer, then sat straighter. “Fine. But if I’m sleeping in the middle of nowhere with you yet again, I get to ask you some questions.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder, one brow lifting. “Like what?”
She met his eyes, refusing to soften. “Your friends.”
Jakobav’s brow arched higher. “Is that what you call us?”
“No,” Ella said, certain. “I can tell that’s what they are to you. Don’t bother pretending they’re only soldiers. You trust them with your life, and now with mine.”
The firelight danced, casting deep shadows across his face. This time he didn’t brush her off. He only kept sharpening his blade, the rasp of stone against steel slow and unhurried, filling the stillness with its steady rhythm.
Ella leaned back on her elbows, her gaze glancing toward Jakobav’s face to gauge his mood. He was stoic and unreadable as usual, but she asked her question anyway, her tone relaxed but too measured to convince anyone it was casual. “I want to know about your inner circle, what their abilities are, and about the chain of command. Will you actually answer me?”
He didn’t look up right away, but his jaw tightened, a hint of contemplation passing before he finally said, “Depends.”
She took that as permission. “Tell me about Thane.”
A note of sadness in his expression came and went too quickly for her to question him about it.
“He was born in Velmire,” Jakobav said quietly.
Ella blinked. “Wait, really? I thought?—”
“Most do,” he cut in, his tone flat and unyielding. “His reasons for leaving are his to tell.” His eyes darkened, shadows drifting across them. “He hasn’t shared them with many. He might share them with you one day. Might not.”
A heaviness passed through the air, then eased as he went on. “He escaped when he was ten, found his way to a Dravaryn military camp, lied about his age, and got in. They believed him because of his size. Giant bastard already looked like one of us, then he learned to fight better than the rest of us.”
Jakobav’s mouth curved, faint but real. “We met as teenagers. The King had heard about him, thought I needed real competition. Hated each other at first. He kept beating me.”
Ella grinned. “Bet that went over well.”
