He studied her for a long moment, that ancient gaze seeing too much. "Why do I feel like I'm making a mistake?"
"Because you're paranoid?"
"Because you're reckless." He crossed to her in three strides, fingers tilting her chin up. "I mean it, Briar. No heroics. No adventures. No doing anything that might result in your death while I'm gone."
"Where exactly are you going for these... preparations?"
His jaw worked. "North. To the... there's a grove. Sacred. Ancient. Things that must be done before the Hunt can..." He was absolutely terrible at this, she realized. Whatever he was hiding, deception didn't come naturally to him. At least not with her.
"You're being very mysterious about forest rituals."
"Magic is mysterious." The response came too quick, too defensive. "Some things are for the Forest King alone."
She studied his face, the way he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "You're not telling me something."
"I'm not telling you many things. That's the nature of our arrangement." But his thumb brushed her jaw, betraying his harsh words. "Just... be here when I return. Safe. Whole. Not drowned, frozen, or otherwise damaged."
"I promiseto be boring."
"Somehow I doubt that." He stepped back, and she caught him glancing at her hands—imagining something? "There's food in your sitting room. Real food. Eat it."
"You just said I could take meals in the main hall."
"You could. But the food there is..." He scowled. "Inadequate. What I've arranged is better."
She bit back a smile. Even leaving for mysterious "preparations," he was still fussing. "Very practical of you."
"Stop saying that word like it means something else."
"Does it?"
He stared at her for a moment longer, then shook his head. "Two days. Three at most. Try not to die."
"I'll do my best."
"Your best is historically terrible." But there was fondness in the insult. "I've left instructions with the staff. If you need anything—"
"Eliam." She crossed to him, placed a hand on his arm. "I'll be fine."
He looked down at her hand like it was a puzzle he couldn't solve. "You said that before. Right before you threw yourself at an ice construct."
"There are no ice constructs in the castle."
"That we know of." He covered her hand with his, just for a moment. The touch sent warmth racing up both their arms—hers from the mark, his from something else. "Be careful, little thief. I find I'm... reluctant to lose you."
The admission hung between them, heavier than any declaration.
Then he was gone, leaving her standing alone in her room for the first time in a week. The silence felt strange after so many days of his constant presence. No scratch of pen on paper. No quiet observations about her complexion. No fussing about blankets or temperature or nutrition.
She should feel relieved. Free.
Instead, she felt oddly bereft.
Briar found herself pacing the room, unable to settle. Her legs, weak from a week in bed, protested but she couldn't stop moving. Couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd struggled to leave, turning back three times like he was fighting his own body.
She paused at her mirror, studying her reflection. When had she stopped looking like a captive? The shadows under her eyes had faded. Her cheeks held color—from all those carefully prepared meals, those perfect breakfasts with their tiny purple flowers.
"What are you doing?" she asked her reflection softly. The woman in the mirror looked healthier than she had in years. Fed. Rested. Cared for.
