"I know." A bitter smile crossed his face. "Neither did I. But when Malus revealed what you'd done, when he exposed how you'd deceived me—even if you didn't meanto—all I could think was that I'd been weak. That caring about you had made me blind. That if I didn't cut you out completely, you would be the thing that destroyed me."
He turned away. "So I threw you to the hunt because having you gone felt safer than admitting that I—" He stopped. "That you had power over me I've never given anyone."
Briar felt her heart squeeze, the warmth pulsing with an emotion she couldn't name. The fight had gone out of her completely now, replaced by something far more complicated. He'd hurt her. Deeply. Possibly irreparably. But hearing him admit this—that he'd acted from fear rather than just cruelty—changed something.
It didn't fix it, but it changed it.
"I had decided to stay," she said quietly. "I went down one last time to tell Thomas that I would speak to you on his behalf, to get him released… but I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to stay with you because I wanted to."
His head turned sharply toward her. "What?"
"I chose you." The words hurt to say. "And you never knew, because you threw me away before I could tell you."
The expression on his face was difficult to read—regret, certainly, but also something that looked almost like pain. "Briar." He moved toward her, then stopped himself. "If I could undo it—"
"But you can't." She wrapped her arms around herself. "You can't undo the hunt. You can't erase what I went through."
"No. I can't." He looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before—helplessness. "All I can do is tell you that I was wrong. That I let fear dictate my actions when I should have been stronger. That I failed you in every way that mattered."
The anger had faded to something duller now—an ache rather than a burn. She was exhausted, wrung out from healing him and fighting him and feeling too much all at once.
"We should get back," she said finally. "The others are waiting."
He nodded slowly, making no move to touch her again. "Can you walk?"
"I'll manage."
She waded toward the spring's edge and as she pulled herself onto the rocks, she noticed his cloak lying folded where he had left it before entering the spring. She moved past it, reaching for the hem of her shift instead, wringing out what water she could.
A moment later, warmth settled across her shoulders.
She stilled as the cloak's weight draped around her, Eliam's hands adjusting it briefly before falling away. He stepped back immediately, giving her space, saying nothing.
She pulled the fabric tighter around herself, not looking at him.
They emerged from the steam-shrouded grove to find Thaine and Karse in tense silence near the tree line. Karse sat propped against an oak, his scales still dulled but looking marginally better than in Malachar's dungeons. The huntsman himself stood apart, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the moonlight.
Both men's gazes tracked to them immediately. Thaine's eyes lingered on Eliam's shoulder, where the puncture wound had been. He said nothing, but his expression shifted slightly—surprise, perhaps recognition of what the absence of injury meant.
Frederick chose that moment to flow toward his bowl, creating a small indignant splash as he settled in, as if scolding them all for the delay.
"Malus," Thaine said after a moment. "It won’t be long before finds out his plan with Malachar failed. He’ll come looking."
Eliam moved past them, already shifting into the cold efficiency she recognized from court. "Then we don’t have much time to prepare. Drak, can you fight?"
Karse pushed himself more upright, trying for his usual casual arrogance. "It’s Karse. I can burn things. Whether I'll survive it is another question."
"The cold damaged him more than he's admitting," Thaine said bluntly. "His core temperature is still too low. Dragon fire in his state might kill him."
"Might," Karse emphasized. "I've survived worse odds."
"No, it’s not worth the risk," Briar said quietly, studying the gray tinge to his scales, the way he trembled despite trying to hide it. "The cold got too deep."
Surprise flickered across his face. "Your concern is touching, but unnecessary."
"My concern," she said, moving closer, "is practical. We need everyone capable if we're going to survive what's coming."
She knelt beside Karse, ignoring the way both him and Eliam went still. The warmth in her chest, still humming from the spring, pulsed with recognition of damage.
