He doesn’t turn from the window.
“On the hill,” I press, when the silence goes on for too long. “When you called them. I felt it.”
“I know.” He says nothing more than that.
“It …pulledat me.” I can still feel the ghost of it in my chest, a tightness that won’t ease. “My feet moved, and I couldn’t stop them.”
He lets the curtain fall and turns to face me. His expression gives me nothing. His eyes are flat and distant, his mind clearly somewhere else. On the other fae, probably.
“Why?”
The fire pops, a log shifting, making me jump. Cairn just stares at me out of those pale gold eyes.
“Food should be sent up soon, then you should rest.”
“That’s not an answer!”
“No.” His mouth curves, just barely. “It isn’t.”
He turns back to the window. The dismissal is clear. He has no intention of explaining what happened.
Icouldpush harder, try to demand answers, but I know he’ll shut me down with a word or a look. A reminder of exactly how little power I have here. But I’m tired,bone-deeptired, and the thought of fighting with him right now makes my entire body ache.
So, I don’t say anything.
A knock on the door breaks the silence a few minutes later. Cairn strides over to the door, and opens it. The same male fae as earlier is standing in the hallway.
“Everyone is settled. Fiena, our healer, is with the six you brought.”
Cairn nods, and steps into the hallway, then pauses and presses his palm flat against the doorframe. An odd sensation washes over me, the fine hairs on my arms lifting, and I shiver.
“Don’t try to leave. The door is warded.” He doesn’t look back, the door swinging shut behind him.
As soon as he’s gone, my legs give out, and I stumble over to one of the chairs in front of the fire. The warmth of it washes over me, sinking into muscles I didn’t realize were clenched. I’ve been holding myself so tight for so long, bracing against one thing after another, and now that I’m finally still, I can feel how much it’s been costing me.
My shoulders ache. My thighs are sore from days of riding. There’s a constant dull throb in my head—from fear, anxiety, stress, and so many other things I can’t even list them.
I close my eyes, lifting one hand to rub at my temple, tip my head back against the headrest, and just … let myself breathe.
In and out.
In and out.
My heartbeat slows. The tension in my jaw starts to ease. The knot between my shoulder blades loosens a little.
It’s the first time I’ve been truly alone since Cairn stole me away in the middle of the night. At the camp, it felt like there were eyes on me constantly, even when I was alone in the tent. Riding with Cairn, I was pressed against his back, always aware of him. The heat of his body. The shift of his muscles when Selveryn changed direction. The way my arms wrapped around his chest and stayed there, hour after hour.
And before that … I don’t want to think about before that.
But here, in this room, with the fire and the silence and no one watching, I can finally let myself feel how exhausted andemotionally battered I am. How close to the edge I’ve been running.
I let my thoughts drift, unfocused at first. The softness of the chair beneath me. The way the flames make shadows dance across my closed eyelids. The distant murmur of voices down the hall. My own breathing, slow and steady, filling the quiet. And underneath it all, the strange tightness in my chest that keeps pulling my attention back to it, no matter how much I try to let my mind go blank.
The pressure building in the air as Cairn reached for his magic. The way Therin dropped to one knee, his jaw clenched, every muscle straining. Vel, shaking with the effort of staying upright.
And me …
Stumbling forward before I could catch myself.
