She’d been too distracted, too consumed by Orchid’s looming shadow to truly take in the way Jakobav had tempered himself with her. He’d followed her cues, matched her silence, and offered steadiness where she expected command. She loathed how much it unsettled her, that his restraint chipped at her defenses, leaving her more aware of him than she had ever wanted.
The bed shifted beneath her as Jakobav lay down, and her senses went rigid in wary recognition of his nearness. She pressed her eyes shut against the dull ache in her temples, grateful when sleep claimed her quickly. Even in dreams she felt him there, his steady breathing brushing the quiet. Long into thenight, she thought she had felt the soft graze of his hand find hers.
Morning came too soon. Ella woke to Jakobav’s rough voice cutting through the gray light.
“Up. We need to move.”
She blinked against the haze of sleep, eyes adjusting to the muted light spilling through the loft window.
He was already on his feet, dressed and packed, her satchel in hand, as though he’d been waiting for her to stir. Gods, it was infuriating how the morning seemed to conspire with him, chiseling the line of his jaw, highlighting the black ink scrawled across his skin, gilding the darkness of him until he looked devastating despite having slept only a handful of hours.
She felt like ruin, but he looked as though the dawn had been created for him alone, and it was an injustice she couldn’t help but notice.
“Ready?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning her face as though searching for fractures she might be hiding.
She rubbed at her eyes and pushed herself upright, nodding as she followed him toward the stairs. “You know, you’re annoyingly awake and irritatingly good-looking for someone who drank enough ale last night to knock out a horse.”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his mouth, unhurried and self-assured. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Princess, especially considering what we’re about to do.”
Ella rolled her eyes, though the tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her, a smile threatening to form. “Let’s just get this over with. And after that, you and I are going to discuss last night.”
A teasing smile curved his lips farther. “Ready when you are. Unless you’re too scared to let me in again.” His tone carried both challenge and the faintest glimpse of humor, cutting through the shadow of the night before.
Ella shoulder-checked him as she slipped past, satisfied by the grunt it dragged from him. She took the stairs quickly and entered the morning without a backward glance.
Their horse waited in the chill air, breath misting faintly as it pawed at the ground. Ella swung into the saddle first, and Jakobav mounted behind her with practiced ease. They set off down the narrow road that cut into the trees, the rhythm of hooves steady beneath them. And though she sat straight-backed in the saddle, Ella couldn’t quiet the turmoil twisting inside her.
The ride from the tavern was brief, yet it stretched on endlessly for Ella. Mist clung to the trees, their blackened trunks rising like a charred warning of what had once burned here. The forest’s stillness pressed close, broken only by the steady rhythm of hooves and the quiet shift of Jakobav’s breath behind her.
Her thoughts tangled like brambles.
What if the so-called seer was nothing more than a charlatan and this entire errand a waste? What if it was a trap, and Jakobav had only pretended to soften, care, and help her? Gods, where was her blade?
She steadied her breathing.
Everything will be okay.
Thane’s dagger was still strapped to her thigh and ready.
Jakobav had brought her here instead of preparing for his own Claiming ceremony, whatever that entailed, and that had to mean some small part of him cared. He had, after all, kept her alive when he didn’t have to. The thought steadied her enough to stay upright in the saddle.
The closer they drew, the more their surroundings seemed watchful.
The seer’s home rose from the forest floor as if the trees had bent to her will. Wood and stone twisted together into a smallcottage, ivy spilling down its walls in ghostly green cascades. It looked less built than summoned, alive with secret knowledge.
Ella climbed down from the saddle, Jakobav steadying her with one hand, warm at her back. She started toward the door, her fingers brushing the dagger strapped to her thigh, and she lifted her hand to knock. Before her knuckles met wood, the door creaked open on its own.
The seer was waiting in the doorway.
Small, hunched, white hair tumbling like spun silk down her bent shoulders, yet her gaze was knowing. Her lips turned in something between amusement and accusation.
“Well, well. The royalty has finally arrived.”
Jakobav’s eyes narrowed, his voice wary. “You knew I was coming.”
“I wasn’t talking about you, Prince.” Her voice rasped, dry as parchment dragged over stone. Her head tilted, eyes gleaming with something too perceptive. “Never thought I would get to invite the Queen of Orchid into my home.”
Ella froze. “I’m not the queen. I’m?—”
