"Probably." Kai rises with fluid motion that speaks to years of military training, already moving toward the weapon racks near the front door. "Stay inside. Lock the door behind me and don't open it for anyone except Shae or someone you absolutely trust."
Fear claws at my throat as I watch him strap on leather armor with practiced efficiency. The sight of him preparing for battle makes me want to grab his arm and beg him not to leave, terror at being left alone warring with equally strong need not to seem weak or clingy.
"How long will you be gone?" I hate how small I sound.
"I don't know." He pauses in buckling his sword belt to look at me with an expression that's both reassuring and grim. "But I'll come back, Saela. Whatever happens out there, I'm coming back to you."
The promise makes my throat tight with emotions I'm not ready to name. Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us and press my lips to his in a kiss that tastes like desperation and need. He responds immediately, large hands cupping my face with gentleness that makes my heart race.
"Be careful," I breathe against his mouth.
"Always am." His thumb traces my cheekbone with a touch that feels like benediction. "Keep the fire going. I'll be back before you know it."
He's gone before I can form another protest, door closing behind him with finality that makes the longhouse feel too empty, too quiet. I turn the heavy lock with hands that shake slightly, metal clicking into place with sound that should be reassuring but somehow makes me feel more trapped than protected.
The next hour crawls by with agonizing slowness. I pace between my room and the main living area, starting at every sound from outside while my imagination conjures increasingly dire scenarios about what Kai might be facing. Wind through the trees becomes enemy scouts. Voices in the distance become battle cries. The normal sounds of camp life warp into threats that make my pulse race with familiar hypervigilance.
When the door finally opens again, I nearly jump out of my skin before recognizing Kai's massive frame silhouetted against afternoon light. Relief hits me so hard my knees actually weaken, months of accumulated tension releasing all at once.
"False alarm," he says as he strips off armor, voice carrying weariness that speaks to adrenaline crash after sustained alertness. "Tracks from yesterday when our scouts were checking the perimeter. Nothing fresh."
I nod like this information makes perfect sense while my body struggles to accept that immediate danger has passed. The hypervigilance that kept me alive for years doesn't shut off easily, survival instincts requiring more than logical reassurance to stand down.
Kai notices my continued tension immediately, ice-blue eyes assessing with concern that makes warmth bloom in my chest despite the lingering fear. "Come here."
I cross to where he stands by the fire, close enough that his body heat soaks through my clothes. When his arms come around me, pulling me against his chest with careful strength, something in my nervous system finally starts to calm.
"You're shaking," he observes, large hands stroking down my back with a touch that's meant to soothe rather than arouse.
"I thought..." I start, then stop, not sure how to explain the terror that gripped me when he left. How the idea of him not coming back felt like losing something I'd just discovered I needed.
"I know." His voice rumbles through his chest where my ear rests, a vibration that grounds me more effectively than any words could. "I know what it's like to wait and wonder and imagine the worst possible outcome."
The understanding in his tone makes me look up, meeting ice-blue eyes that hold shadows of old pain. "The woman Shae told me about. You lost someone before."
His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn't deflect or change the subject. "Her name was Lyanna. We tried to keep the relationship secret, but clan politics made that impossible. She died in a border conflict while I was away on another assignment."
The quiet anguish in his voice makes my chest ache with sympathy for wounds that clearly haven't fully healed. "I'm sorry."
"So am I." He cups my face with hands that dwarf my features, thumbs stroking across cheekbones with reverent gentleness. "But that's not going to happen again. I won't let it. Not when I've never felt like this before."
The fierce conviction in his voice makes something settle in my chest, fear giving way to trust that feels both foreign and absolutely necessary. When he kisses me, slow and deep and full of promises I'm finally ready to believe, I let myself sink into the sensation of being chosen rather than claimed.
"The guards are all on high alert," he murmurs against my lips. "Bronn has doubled patrols, and everyone knows to watch for Stonevein movement. You're safe here."
I want to believe him completely, but practical concerns nag at the edges of growing contentment. "What if Sera told them something before you caught her? What if they know more about this place than we think?"
"Then we'll deal with it." His confidence should be arrogant, but somehow it just feels reassuring. "Whatever they know, whatever they're planning, we're ready."
"Are we?" The question emerges before I can stop it, skepticism born from years of assuming the worst and being proven right more often than not.
Kai studies my face with intensity that makes my pulse quicken, ice-blue eyes searching for something I'm not sure I'm ready to reveal. "You still don't trust that you're safe here."
It's a statement rather than a question, an assessment that hits uncomfortably close to truth. "I don't know how to trust that anywhere is safe. Every place I've ever felt secure eventually became dangerous. Every person I've depended on either left or died or..."
My voice breaks slightly on the admission, vulnerability bleeding through despite attempts to maintain composure. The longhouse has started to feel like home in ways that terrify me, but experience has taught me that attachment only makes loss more devastating.
"I'm not going anywhere," Kai says with conviction that resonates in my bones. "And neither are you, if I have anything to say about it."
