“Hmm,” he hums, unconvinced. “The temple, or the cuff you just traded?”
The words hit harder than they should. I stiffen, and Kael must sense it because his tone softens slightly. “It’s not easy, letting go of something like that.”
“It’s just a piece of silver,” I lie.
“Is it?” he presses gently. “Because the way you hesitated... it seemed like it was more than that.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. The lump in my throat is too big, and the weight of his words too heavy. My silence, apparently, is answer enough.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Kael says after a moment. His voice is quieter now, almost reluctant. “I would’ve given a sword if we couldn’t find another trade.”
I turn slightly, angling my head so I can glance back at him. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a mix of guilt and gratitude that I wasn’t expecting.
“It’s done,” I say, more for myself than for him. “And we needed the horses.”
His gaze lingers on me for a beat longer before he nods, the conversation dropping as quickly as it began.
Ahead of us, Ronyn lets out a loud laugh, and Seren swats at him playfully, her cheeks flushed with either embarrassment or joy—or both. The sound cuts through the tension between Kael and me, and for a fleeting moment, I envy their ease.
“Does he ever stop?” Kael mutters, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Not if he’s awake,” I reply drily. For the first time since we mounted the horse, I let myself smile.
Kael notices. I can feel it in the subtle shift of his posture, the faint loosening of his grip on the reins. It’s as if my smile disarms him, even if just for a fleeting moment.
We ride in a silence that feels almost companionable, though I’m wildly aware of every slight movement of his hands. His left hand holds the reins loosely, while his right arm brackets my waist, hispalm resting low and steady at my hip. The weight of it is steady, grounding, and maddeningly distracting.
Sometimes I think I feel his fingers brushing gently, almost imperceptibly, in small circles. My breath hitches, and I glance down quickly, only to find his hand still, resting where it has been since we started. My cheeks burn with a flush I’m grateful he can’t see.
But when his hand shifts slightly, pressing against my lower stomach as the horse adjusts its stride, I startle out of my thoughts. It hits me like cold water—how much space he’s taken up in my mind, how he’s crept beneath my skin. I force myself to focus on my surroundings.
Kael shifts subtly behind me. Just enough to remind me he's still watching the world through a warrior’s lens. Still watching me.
The forest around us grows darker, denser, the towering trees forming an oppressive shelter between us and the sky above. Their gnarled branches twist like bony hands clawing at the sky, blotting out the light. A damp, heavy mist clings to the forest floor, curling around the horses’ hooves and muffling the sound of their steps. The air smells of damp earth and decaying leaves.
Then, suddenly, the atmosphere shifts.
The easy rhythm of hoofbeats falters as the eerie stillness takes hold. The distant calls of birds and the rustle of unseen creatures vanish, swallowed by an unnatural quiet that presses against my ears.
Therion reins in his horse sharply, his movements fluid and precise. His hand drifts to the haft of his axe, his voice low and commanding. “Listen.”
Ronyn’s playful grin is gone in an instant, replaced by the sharp focus of a hunter. His bow is already in his hands, an arrow nocked and ready. “Something’s watching us.”
My chest tightens, the sound of my own pulse suddenly deafening in the silence. Kael leans closer, his voice a steady anchor against the rising tension. “Stay alert, Lightborne.”
Even the air feels wrong—too still, too silent.
My muscles coil tight, every nerve alive with anticipation. I scan the shifting shadows, but the forest offers no answers—only morequestions, more unease. The golden light beneath my ribs flickers faintly, like a warning flare, pulsing against my skin in time with my racing heart.
And then I feel it—a presence, prominent yet unseen, the weight of its gaze pressing down on us.
We’re not alone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Therion dismounts first,his movements as smooth and purposeful as ever. He steps forward, his posture rigid, scanning the darkened forest ahead with an intensity that’s almost palpable. Seren once told me that Aetherstride means “energy walker”—a gift that lets its wielder move through the unseen, sensing what others can't. They don’t merely track footprints—they feel the pulse of life, the lingering echoes of presence, the whisper of energy in every space they pass. It’s what makes them unparalleled trackers—not just following trails but sensing them.
Kael dismounts with an ease that borders on predatory, landing soundlessly on the forest floor. Before I can think to dismount myself, his hands are on me, gripping my hips firmly. Without so much as a word of warning, he hauls me off the horse, his strength making the effort seem trivial. My feet hit the ground lightly, but his hands linger for a fraction longer than necessary, their weight steadying me—and sparking something else.
