His gaze lingers, then flicks away. He doesn’t ask, and for that, I’m grateful.
We head slowly down the winding path with Brimstone, Ashwing, and the foal following close behind. Rain lashes through the trees, and the dirt beneath us turns slick. Keiren’s limp worsens with every step, but he doesn’t complain.
Eventually, he stops and swings down from Aetherion, grimacing as his boots sink into the mud. “There’s a place not far from here. We can shelter from the storm there.” His voice is rough with pain.
I move to dismount, but Keiren places his hand on my hip and brushes my waist, its warmth startling even through soaked layers, stopping me. He shakes his head, meeting my glare with a maddening calm. “Save your pride for drier ground.”
With an annoyed huff, I sit back in the saddle.
He leads us down an overgrown trail, rain soaking us to the bone. The forest blurs into streaks of gray and green. Thunder cracks above as the path narrows, then opens suddenly at the edge of a cliff, where a wide waterfall crashes into a pool below. Mist billows up from the surface, catching the last light of day like smoke.
Without hesitation, Keiren slips behind the veil of water, disappearing into the stone.
I dismount, peering into the darkness as my boots slide in the mud. Brimstone nudges me forward, and I clutch his reins tighter before following. Cold water pelts me as I step through the falls.
The roar softens into a hush. The cavern beyond the cascade is vast and unexpectedly warm. Steam clings to the air, mist curling along ancient stone walls. A natural spring glows faintly in the center, pulsing with some inner light. Patches of wild grass rise between cracks in the stone, and soft moss carpets the ground like velvet. High above, a thin shaft of daylight pours through a natural skylight in the ceiling, illuminating the glistening pool like a sacred altar.
I can’t stop staring. “This place is…”
“Ancient,” he finishes for me. “My mother used to bring me here as a boy. She said the spring has healing properties. We’ll be safe here.”
Safe.
That word shouldn’t make my chest ache—but it does.
He helps me settle Brimstone, Ashwing, and the foal near a patch of grass, brushing a calming hand over the colt’s flank before moving to gather some dry kindling. He moves with the practiced efficiency of a man who’s done this before. A man used to surviving alone.
I kneel by the spring, cupping the warm water in my hands. A faint whiff of lavender reaches my nose and, under it, something older. Something sacred.
Behind me, I hear the rustle of fabric. I turn—and jolt to my feet.
Keiren is undoing the buckle of his belt. He begins peeling the soaked tunic from his chest. His bare shoulders gleam in the mist.
“What are you doing?” I snap, pulse spiking.
“Take off your clothes,” he says simply, not looking at me as he tosses his soaked tunic on the ground before reaching for the buckle again. “Then we’ll—”
The belt jingles, leather brushing metal. The sound rips through me like a blade.
“No!” The word comes out like a desperate cry.
The cave walls close in. My lungs shrink. My body locks, and I can’t breathe. I stagger back and collapse to my knees, hands clawing at the mossy floor. The scent of wet stone, the warmth of the air, the belt—the belt—it’s all wrong. Too much.
“No, please—don’t!”
“Fire—” Keiren’s voice draws near, low and alarmed.
“No, please!” I cry out, this time trapped in a horrifying memory. The locked door, hands on me pressing me down. Hands on me—there arehands on me.
My eyes fly open to find Keiren’s hands on either side of me, holding my arms and squeezing.
“Please don’t—don’t touch me!” I cry out, shoving his chest as hard as I can. He immediately releases me, and I fall to the floor, sobbing. I know the memory isn’t real, but I can’t stop shaking. I can’t stop the sobs wracking my body. Then I detect a sound echoing off the cave walls—one other than my hysterical wailing.
Soft. Low. Like something ancient stirring from the shadows. A lullaby in a tongue I don’t know but feel deep in my bones.
He doesn’t reach for me again. He only sits beside me, far enough away that I can still breathe, but close enough to feel the magnetic pull of him.
Humming. The king is humming.
