The courtyard was organized chaos.
Briar stood near Phaeon, checking his saddle for the third time even though she knew it was secure. Her hands needed something to do, some task to focus on that wasn't the weight of doubt pressing against her ribs, or the star metal pendant cold against her skin beneath her cloak.
Around her, the group prepared to leave with varying degrees of efficiency. Sian moved between packs with quiet purpose, redistributing weight, while Halian fussed over ward stones that were already perfectly organized. Thaine checked weapons with methodical precision, his dark eyes tracking everything even as his hands worked. Karse lounged against the courtyard wall, watching the fae scramble with barely concealed amusement.
"If you tighten that girth any more, you'll suffocate the poor beast," Eliam said from behind her.
She jumped slightly, then forced herself to still. "Just making sure it's secure."
"It's secure." His hand covered hers on the leather strap, warm despite the cold morning. "You've checked it twice already."
Had she? The morning felt fragmented, her attention scattered across too many things. The doubt that had kept her awake most of the night, turning over Arion's words like poisoned candy. The way Eliam had held her tighter than usual when she'd finally fallen asleep, as if he could sense something pulling away.
She pulled her hand from under his, busying herself with adjusting her cloak. "I want to be prepared."
"You are prepared." His voice carried that edge of controlled frustration she was learning to recognize. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just nervous about the journey."
The lie sat bitter on her tongue. She felt him studying her profile, weighing her words against her tone, and forced herself to meet his eyes.
"Briar—"
"Is everyone almost ready?" she asked, looking past him to where Arion was emerging from the residence, head low as he spoke to an attendant.
She felt Eliam tense beside her, his hand falling away from where it had been reaching for her face. When she glanced at him, his expression had shuttered into something carefully neutral.
"Almost," he said, and moved away to check his own horse.
The loss of his warmth felt more significant than it should have. Briar pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the warmth there pulse in response. Seeking him even when she was pulling away. Was that her or the magic? Did it matter anymore?
"Good morning."
Arion's voice made her turn. He stood close, too close really, holding a small wrapped bundle that steamed slightly in the cold air. His light flickered around his fingers in that new, sharper way she'd started noticing.
"I thought you might be hungry," he said, offering the bundle. "It's not much, just some bread and cheese wrapped to stay warm. You didn't eat much last night."
She hadn't realized he'd been paying that close attention. She took the bundle, feeling the warmth seep through the cloth into her cold fingers.
"Thank you," she said, surprised by the gesture.
His fingers brushed hers as she took it, the contact lingering a moment too long. His hand was warm, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"Anytime." His smile was gentle, concerned. "Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough."
Another lie. They were stacking up like kindling, waiting for a spark. She could see him noticing, reading the tension in her shoulders, the way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes.
"If you need to talk—"
"She doesn't." Eliam's voice cut between them, sharp and cold. He'd moved back without her noticing, now standing close enough that she could feel the barelycontained violence in his stillness. "And you should focus on your own preparations, princeling."
Arion didn't step back and didn't acknowledge the threat in Eliam's tone. Instead, his light brightened slightly, a challenge.
"I was merely offering—"
"I know what you were offering." Eliam's hand found Briar's lower back, firm and possessive. "And she doesn't need it."
