"Probably?" She gestured at the second mount. "And I suppose you expected me to just hop on that thing and ride off into the sunset?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "I had hoped you might possess basic horsemanship. Clearly, I overestimated human capabilities."
"Well, excuse me for not learning to ride magical death unicorns in my spare time."
"A shortcoming I will be certain to rectify." He swung onto his mount with fluid grace, then held out a hand. "You'll ride with me."
She hesitated a moment, still wary of the strange creature.
"They respond to my will. Since my will is to keep you intact there is nothing to fear."
His fingers curled around hers and pulled her up in front of him, settling her between his thighs. His arms came around her to take the reins, and all at once she found herself surrounded by his warmth despite the morning chill.
"Relax," he murmured when she sat rigid. "It's a long ride. You'll exhaust yourself sitting like that."
That was easy for him to say. But as they started moving, his body solid behind hers, she found the tension gradually easing from her. The warmth in her chest hummed contentment at the proximity.
"Tell me about the Silverwood," she said, trying to distract herself.
"Ancient waterway. Feeds the eastern groves where the oldest trees grow." His voice rumbled through his chest into her back. "Malachar knew exactly what to target. Without water, those groves will die. Trees that have stood for millennia, gone because of his petty revenge."
"Can you fix it?"
"I can unmake his ice, yes. But it will take concentration. Power. Which is why—"
"You need to know where I am," she finished. "In case I get into mischief."
"Precisely." But his arm tightened slightly around her waist, and she wondered, despite her conviction to no longer read between the lines, if that was really all.
The forest grew denser as they traveled, until she couldn't see sky through the canopy. These trees were different from the ones near the castle. They were older, wilder, watching with ancient patience.
"We're entering the old forest now," Eliam said. "Stay close when we dismount. Things here aren't always friendly, even to me."
"What kind of things?"
"The kind that remembers when the world was young. When fae were the only sentients. Some of them..." He paused. "Some see humans as intrusions. Infections to be purged."
"Comforting."
"I won't let them touch you," he said, and it sounded like a vow. "You're mine. That grants you protection, even here."
The words would have normally annoyed her. Instead, that warmth pulsed with something like gratitude.
She really was losing her mind.
The temperature continued to drop as they traveled deeper and Briar found herself pressing back against Eliam's warmth. If he noticed, he didn't comment. Just adjusted his cloak to wrap around them both.
"What are those?" Briar asked, pointing to clusters of luminescent flowers growing from the bark of ancient oaks. They glowed soft blue-white, like trapped moonlight.
"Corpse blooms," Eliam said matter-of-factly. "They grow where something has died violently. The prettier they are, the more agonizing the death."
Briar's hand dropped. "Oh."
They rode in silence for a moment before she spotted something else—butterflies with wings that looked like stained glass, dancing through shafts of sunlight.
"Those are beautiful," she said, watching them flutter.
"Sorrow-wings. They feed on tears. Follow grieving creatures until they expire from despair, then lay their eggs in the—"
