It wasn't running, running implied normal physics, normal motion. This was something else. The forest blurred into streaks of dark and darker, trees becoming suggestions rather than solid things. The elk's gait was impossibly smooth, as if they traveled above the ground rather than on it. Wind whipped Briar's tangled hair across her face, cold enough to steal what little breath she had.
"Sleep," Arion said against her ear, his voice gentle. "You're safe now."
She wanted to argue, to explain about Karse, but the warmth in her chest pulsed with contentment at Arion's proximity, and her body had nothing left to give. The rhythmof the elk's movement, the solid presence of Arion behind her, the soft light emanating from the creature beneath them, it all pulled her toward unconsciousness.
The forest streamed past in ways that made no sense, trees bending away from their passage, the world becoming nothing but motion and wind and the faint chime of the elk's hooves when they struck stone. Her eyes closed without her permission, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion.
The darkness that took her was complete.
The sound of quiet movement stirred her from sleep. Briar's eyes opened slowly, her body feeling heavy and disconnected, as though she'd been underwater for too long. A young fae girl stood by the table near the window, setting down a fresh tray while collecting another that must have been there for hours, the fruit on it had begun to brown at the edges.
The girl's eyes widened when she noticed Briar watching. "My lady, forgive me, I didn't mean to wake you." She dipped a quick curtsy and fled before Briar could respond.
Briar knew this room. The pale wood furniture, the tapestry depicting dawn breaking over mountains, the way morning light filtered through gossamer curtains. The Star Court. Arion's home. She'd stayed here before, when everything had been different. When she'd still believed she might find a way to break her bargain with Eliam.
The smell of fresh bread and something sweet pulled her from the bed. Her feet touched the floor, expecting pain, expecting her leg to buckle. Nothing. She stood fully, waiting for the familiar agony of cracked ribs, the burn of the cauterized wound. Still nothing.
She looked down at herself, at legs that bore only faint lines where deep gashes had been. The angry burns from Karse's healing had faded to pink marks that looked weeks old, not days. Someone had dressed her in a soft nightgown, cream-colored and simple. Her skin was clean, her hair washed and braided loosely over one shoulder.
The table by the balcony held more food than she could eat in three meals. There were pastries that steamed in the cool air, fruit cut into delicate shapes, tea that smelled of honey and herbs she couldn't name. She sat, her body moving without the careful calculation of injury she'd grown accustomed to. Through the open doors, morning air drifted in, carrying the scent of the Star Court's gardens—jasmine and something else, something that only grew in places where magic lingered.
She'd barely taken her first bite when a knock came at the door.
"Come in," she said, expecting the servant girl again.
Arion entered, and for a moment she forgot to breathe. Gone were the formal robes she'd always seen him in. He wore a fitted dark green vest over a white shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms, his usually perfect hair falling in loose curls around his face. The casual attire made him look younger, less like the Star Court's prince and more like... just Arion.
Relief flickered across his features when he saw her sitting there. "You're awake. And eating. Good."
He moved toward the balcony doors, already reaching to close them. "You shouldn't have these open, the morning air is too cold—"
"Leave them," she said. "Please. I've been inside too long."
He paused, clearly wanting to argue, then compromised by pulling a shawl from the wardrobe. It was soft gray wool, the edges decorated with tiny stars. He draped it around her shoulders with careful movements, not quite touching her but ensuring she was covered.
"You had us worried," he said quietly, settling into the chair across from her. "You've been sleeping for two days."
"Two days?" The pastry nearly fell from her hand. "But—"
"Halian healed what he could. The physical damage, most of it. Some things..." He paused, his gaze dropping to where her hand had unconsciously moved to her chest, to where the warmth pulsed weak but present in response to his proximity. "Some things can't be healed with magic. Your body was repaired, but your mind seemed to need the rest. Or perhaps it didn't want to wake."
The weight of those words settled between them. She thought of Eliam's cold dismissal, of being hunted like an animal, of Karse trapped in water and roots because he'd tried to protect her. Two days of sleep hadn't erased any of it.
"Where are Sian and Halian?" she asked, deflecting from the hollow ache beneath her ribs.
"Nearby. They wanted to check on you, but I thought you might need space first. Time to adjust."
"And Karse?" The name tasted strange on her tongue. "The Drak?"
Something shifted in Arion's expression, not quite discomfort but close. "We don't know. He didn't follow us to the Star Court, at least not yet. But Sian says..." He hesitated.
"What?"
"She says something that burns that hot doesn't give up easily." He studied her face. "He seemed to think you belonged to him."
The memory of Karse's matter-of-fact declaration rose unbidden. You're mine until the debt's paid. She wondered if he was still out there, hunting for what he considered his. The thought should have terrified her. Instead, she felt oddly guilty for leaving him trapped.
"He saved my life," she said simply. "Multiple times."
