"You didn't complain once." He pulled the saddle free, setting it aside. "That's more than most would manage their first full day."
The warmth in her chest pulsed at the praise, and she hated that she couldn't tell if the pleased flush was her own or its response to his approval.
"I'll help set up camp," she said, moving away before he could say anything else.
The group broke off into their respective roles—Thaine and Karse scouting the perimeter, Halian placing ward stones, Sian checking the water source and beginning to prepare a meal. Briar helped where she could, gathering firewood, laying out bedrolls, trying to be useful despite her exhaustion.
By the time the fire was lit and food was cooking, full dark had fallen. The forest around them was alive with sounds—wind through branches, the distant call of an owl, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush.
They ate in relative quiet, everyone too tired from the day's travel for much conversation. But as the meal finished and people began settling in for the night, Halian cleared his throat.
"Since we have some time," he said, "and since not all of us know the full history... perhaps we should discuss what we're actually riding toward."
Briar looked up from where she'd been staring into the fire. "The Night Court?"
"Yes." Halian glanced around the circle. "I've studied the historical texts, but academic knowledge is different from lived memory." His gaze settled on Thaine. "You're the only one here old enough to have been alive when they were sealed."
Thaine's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his dark eyes. "I was young. Barely a century old."
"But you remember," Sian said quietly.
"Some things you don't forget." Thaine's hands stilled on the weapon he'd been cleaning. "Even when you wish you could."
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Briar watched the flames dance, feeling the weight of history pressing down on the clearing.
"What were they like?" Briar asked. "Before getting sealed away?"
Thaine was quiet for a long moment, his hands going still on the weapon he'd been cleaning. The firelight caught the planes of his face, made the shadows under his eyes look deeper.
"They were monsters, but they were beautiful in their monstrosity," he said finally. "That's what made it so terrifying and so effective."
He set the weapon aside, his movements careful and deliberate.
"The Unseelie could glamour themselves to look like other fae. Not perfect, not up close, but from a distance..." He paused, taking a breath. "Convincing enough."
No one spoke, everyone was waiting with baited breath.
"It was my bonding celebration." The words came out flat. "Isania and I had just completed the ceremony. There were guests, music, the usual..." He trailed off, one hand rising to his throat before he seemed to realize and dropped it back to his lap. "After the ceremony, I saw her slip away into the gardens. I thought she wanted..."
He stopped, as though the memory of it consumed him for a moment, and then started again.
"So I followed her. Kept catching glimpses through the hedges, her dress, her hair. She was laughing, playing. So I chased her deeper."
Thaine’s hands had curled into fists.
"When I finally caught up to her, caught her..." His voice dropped. "The glamour held until I touched her. Then it just... fell away."
The fire crackled. Thaine stared at it, not seeming to see the flames.
"Pale. That's what I remember first. Pale as death, with a touch of green, like—" He shook his head. "Like something that belonged underwater, not walking around wearing my wife's face."
He had to stop again, throat working.
"Her eyes were terrible, bottomless, hungry things. Black until the torchlight caught the crimson underneath.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn't look away, couldn't move. It was like being held, pinned in place by her gaze alone. My body just… stopped listening to me."
Thaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"She had raven feathers woven into her hair. Black feathers, dozens of them, and it’s absurd but I remember thinking that was wrong, Isania didn't wear feathers, she hated how they felt, and then…"
