The only source of potential heat sat beside the couch in the form of an old but solid stone hearth. Ash clung to the grate, and a bundle of dry logs leaned against the wall beside it.
I took a slow breath, letting the silence settle around me. I just wanted to lay down and sleep for the next ten years.
“The linen is in there.” Ace pointed at one of the doors ahead of me. “There’s no power.”
I nodded, having figured that out already. This cabin was completely off the grid.
After slipping off my leather boots and then my wet socks, I nudged them to the side with my toes and pressed my weary feet to the cold floorboards. Afternoon light spilled in through the dirty windows, casting long, irregular shadows across the wooden floor. Dust motes floated lazily in the amber light.
Ace stood just inside the door, his back rigid, fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger though there was no sound but the creak of the old wood settling and the faint call of a bird far off. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he alternated between watching me and looking out the window as if expecting the hunters to jump out from the shadows.
I moved forward, padding across the room to open the door Ace indicated. The closet had bowed shelves stacked with folded linens. I reached for the top sheet. The cloth rustled faintly as I lifted it, stiff with age. A dry cloud of dust rose around my face, carrying a scent of faded lavender and old wood. The smell was stale, yet I found it comforting in the strangest way.
I opened the other door to find a simple bathroom.
“The tank is full of water and the sink and toilet are gravity fed,” Ace called out from behind me. “We’ll have to run the generator or manually pump from the well once the tank is drained.”
Hopefully, we wouldn’t be here for that long.
I held the sheet to my chest, pressing my fingers into the rough weave.
Behind me, Ace exhaled. A long, low sound. I didn’t turn.
“They won’t find us here,” I murmured, half to myself, half to him.
“Not tonight,” he agreed. “By the time I get the fire started, it will be too dark for them to see the smoke, and that’s assuming they bother to go to an elevated location.”
I turned to face him and held the sheet a little tighter, letting the weight of it settle against me like armour. The air in the cabin stilled as if the world froze and held its breath with us. Ace hadn’t moved from the door, but his shoulders relaxed and he unclenched his jaw. The tension around him unravelled, as if he, too, accepted we were safe. At least for now.
He moved finally, his boots scuffing the floor, and crossed the space between us in a few slow steps. Golden light hit his face as he moved, catching the strands of brown hair that had fallen across his face. There was dirt on his cheekbone, a smudge of dried blood on his collar.
I reached up without thinking, brushing it away with the corner of the sheet. His dark gaze met mine, stormy and searching, and for a breath, neither of us said anything.
“You’re bleeding,” I said softly, nodding to a shallow cut along his jaw. He must’ve got the injury when he ran into my burning cabin to save Nala.
He gave the barest hint of a smile. “It’s nothing.”
I didn’t press. Instead, I reached out again, this time with my fingers, and let them trace the line of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath the grime and tension. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he held himself impossibly still, almost as if he feared the slightest movement would make me bolt.
“You haven’t been here in a long time,” I said, not a question, just a statement. I still desperately wanted to fill in the time when he’d been away. I wanted answers.
His gaze drifted to the hearth, where a small stack of wood leaned like an afterthought. “I didn’t think I’d ever come back.”
“You’re not alone this time.”
His gaze flicked back to mine. He reached up and gently closed his hand around my wrist, thumb brushing my pulse. “No. I’m not.”
Something settled between us then, quiet but undeniable. Anticipation hummed in my veins. Maybe I didn’t hate him as much as I wanted to. Maybe he didn’t hate me at all.
He glanced toward the hearth again, then sighed. “There’s not enough wood. I’ll get more.”
I hesitated. “Do you want me to help?”
“No. Stay and rest,” he said, his voice low and firm. He looked down at my feet, then back up, and something flickered behind his eyes. “I won’t be long.”
He let go of my wrist slowly, as if reluctant to break the moment, and moved to the door. The cabin seemed colder when he opened it, despite the light washing the walls in soft gold as he stepped out.
I stood there for a while, the old sheet still in my hands, and listened as the door clicked shut behind him. The silence returned, but it didn’t feel empty anymore.
