He took her empty glass and set it aside. When he looked at her again, something complex moved in his expression.
"You're mine," he said simply. "That means something to me, whether it should or not. Anyone who thinks otherwise learns differently."
The warmth in her chest pulsed at his words, recognizing truth even if her mind struggled with it.
"You need sleep," he said, moving toward his bed. "Tomorrow we'll figure out your sleeping arrangements, but tonight you stay where I can guard you properly."
He pulled back the covers with efficient movements, and she climbed in on trembling legs. He extinguished most of the lights, leaving only the fire burning low. She expected him to take the chair, to maintain distance like before. Instead, he slid into bed beside her, though he stayed on top of the covers.
"You're staying?"
"You're still shaking hard enough to rattle the bed frame," he said, as if that explained everything. "And after tonight, I find myself... particular about your proximity."
She turned toward him slightly, finding him lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"I really am sorry for causing all this trouble."
"You cause me nothing but trouble," he agreed, but something in his voice had softened. "Sleep now, little thief. Tomorrow brings new challenges, but tonight you're safe here."
The warmth in her chest settled at his nearness, and despite everything, the terror, the pain, the violation, she believed him. She drifted toward sleep in the Forest King's bed, wearing his shirt, with him keeping guard beside her.
Warmth.
That was Briar's first conscious thought. Not the artificial heat of fae hearths or the burning of the mark, but body warmth. Solid and real against her back, an arm heavy around her waist, breath stirring her hair with clockwork rhythm.
Memory crashed back—Malachar's ice, Eliam's fury, falling asleep alone in his bed while he kept watch. But now…
She tried to shift away, mortified to find herself pressed against the Forest King like he was safety itself. His arm tightened, preventing escape.
"Stop moving." His voice came rough with sleep but fully aware. "You're finally quiet."
"I… when did you…"
"Three hoursago." He didn't release her. If anything, pulled her closer. "You were shaking hard enough to rattle the bed frame. And your teeth..." He made a sound of disgust. "Like dice in a cup. I have sensitive hearing."
Heat flooded her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Apologize again and I'll gag you." But his threat lacked bite, muffled against her hair. "The noise was... disruptive. This solved it."
She lay frozen, hyperaware of every point of contact. His chest against her back. His arm around her waist. The way they fit together like puzzle pieces. The warmth in her chest purred contentment, which only mortified her more.
"I can move to the floor—"
"You'll stay exactly where you are." His thumb traced lazy circles on her stomach through his shirt. "You're warm. Quiet. Acceptable."
A knock interrupted whatever protest she might have made.
"Enter," Eliam called without moving.
Servants bustled in with breakfast, studiously not looking at the bed where their lord held his human captive like a favored pet. They set up the small table by the window with practiced efficiency and fled.
"Hungry?" he asked against her ear.
Her stomach answered for her, growling loudly. He chuckled and finally released her.
"Eat," he commanded, rising with fluid grace. "We have much to discuss."
She slipped from the bed, tugging his shirt down to cover more of her thighs. It was a losing battle. The silk barely reached mid-thigh, and his eyes tracked the movement with interest.
