A knock sounded, muffled through the shadows wrapping the door.
We both froze.
Then—
“Breakfast!” Vanya’s voice squeaked through the doorframe. “Um—I mean—whenever you’re, uh, done.” A beat. “With… whatever you’re doing.”
Rydian grinned at me. “She’s never going to look at me again.”
“She barely looks at you now,” I said, laughing despite myself.
He lifted his head, glared halfheartedly, and stole one more kiss that had my entire body arching toward him.
Then he climbed out of bed.
I watched him get dressed—slowly, deliberately, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds like he could feel my gaze trailing over the runes carved across his torso and arms.
“Stop staring, Furious,” he murmured, pulling his shirt over his head.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
I sighed. “Fine. I was.”
He smirked, completely insufferable. “Good.”
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it, laughing. And gods—his laugh. It was rare, rough, and it pulled something inside me tight. Maybe this cabin wasn’t the safest place in the realm, but for the first time in years, I felt safe. Climbing out of bed at last, I dressed and set off in search of breakfast.
The smell of spiced porridge hit me first. Then the sound of clattering bowls. Then Callan’s voice complaining loudly enough to wake the dead.
“Who the Hel decided rabbits are a food group? Has the realm forgotten proper cuisine? I am a king?—”
“Fugitive king,” Daegel corrected without looking up.
Callan glared. “I am a temporarily displaced monarch.”
Keres snorted. “You’re a refugee with an ego bigger than your?—”
“Keres,” Daegel warned.
I stepped into the kitchen.
Everyone froze.
Then all eyes snapped to Rydian following behind me. My cheeks flushed hot, but I kept my head high.
Keres smirked.
Daegel winked.
Vanya flushed crimson and stared down at her bowl.
Callan’s eyes narrowed, flicking between Rydian and me like he was solving a riddle and hating every answer.
Rydian simply crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, looking entirely too smug.
