"Sleep now," he demanded. "You're still recovering."
A thought crept in unbidden. What if he was lying? What if he didn't want her anymore, not really, and this was just—
"If you don't stop thinking whatever you're thinking," he said against her hair, "I'll take you right now and make sure the entire Star Court hears it."
The threat was so unexpected that she let out a startled laugh. His arms tightened around her.
"I mean it," he continued. "I'll have you screaming my name loud enough that Arion comes running. Let everyone in this pristine, proper court know exactly who you belong to."
She huffed out a small laugh against his chest. "I'm sure that would go over well."
"I don't particularly care what goes over well in the Star Court." His hand on her stomach pressed possessively. "Now sleep or keep thinking foolish thoughts and suffer the consequences. Don’t say I never gave you choices."
She closed her eyes, letting herself relax against him. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, his arms solid around her, and for the first time since Malus had taken her, she felt like maybe, eventually, she might be okay.
She slept, finally, without dreams.
Briar woke to the weight of being watched. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew Eliam was there, that particular intensity of his attention a physical thing she could feel even through sleep. She snuggled further into downy blankets piled over her body while the warmth in her chest pulled steadily—no longer desperate but constant.
“How long will you pretend to be asleep?”
Pushing the blanket down, Briar turned to see Eliam sitting in a chair beside the bed, fully dressed in clothes that were undoubtedly borrowed from the Star Court's wardrobe. They fit him well enough, but something about seeing him in cream and blue instead of his usual jeweled tones felt wrong, like he was wearing someone else's skin.
He was watching her with that particular intensity that meant he'd been doing it for a while. His expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between possession and something darker, more complicated.
"How long have you been sitting there?" Her voice came out rough from sleep.
"Long enough." His eyes tracked her movement as she pushed herself upright, the blankets falling away from her shoulders. "Arion sent word three hours ago. Everyone's gathering in the council room."
Three hours. The words hit her with sudden panic. She threw the covers back, her body protesting the quick movement.
"Three hours?" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet finding the cold floor. "Why didn't you wake me? They're all waiting, I've kepteveryone—"
"Stop." The command in his voice made her freeze mid-movement. He stood from the chair, crossing to her in two strides. His hands found her shoulders, firm enough to keep her in place. "Your recovery is the top priority. If that means they wait three hours or three days, they'll wait."
"Eliam, if Arion gathered everyone—"
"I don't jump because the Star Court prince says so." His thumbs pressed against her collarbones, grounding and possessive. "You needed rest. Everything else can wait."
She stared up at him, seeing the steel in his expression, the absolute refusal to compromise on this particular point.
"You can't just make people wait because—"
"I can, and I did." His hands slid from her shoulders to cup her face, tilting it up to his. "They'll wait as long as I decide they need to wait. Your body needed time to recover from what I took from you, from what he did to you. A few hours of their inconvenience means nothing measured against that."
The arrogance of it should have irritated her, but instead she felt something warm settle in her chest that had nothing to do with the fragment of his essence living there. He was being completely unreasonable and absolutely unmovable, and somehow that steadiness felt like safety.
"Are you ready now?" he asked, his tone shifting slightly, becoming less command and more question. "Or do you need more time?"
She considered his words. Her body felt heavy, disconnected, but functional. The worst of the exhaustion had faded with sleep, leaving behind only the bone-deep weariness that she suspected wouldn't leave for days yet.
"I'm ready," she said. "We need to figure out what to do about... everything."
His expression darkened and his hands dropped from her face. He offered a curt nod and moved to the wardrobe across the room.
"The Star Court provided clothes," he said, opening the ornate doors to reveal an array of gowns in various shades of blue and silver and white. Colors that would mark her as belonging to this court, to Arion's protection. He stood there for a moment, his hand resting on one of the silver dresses, then moved past it with clear dismissal.
His fingers found a gown near the back, pulling it free from the others. The fabric was a deep sage green, darker than the vibrant emerald of his Forest Court but unmistakably green nonetheless. Not his color exactly, but close enough to make a statement.
