And yet all I feel is the echo of the dream—and the phantom burn where I touched the dragon’s chest. I clench my fist, lost in thought.
“If I’d known you were going to insist on sleeping here,” Keiren says, his voice husky from sleep, “I wouldn’t have given you the bed.”
I jump.
He’s already up, stretching, his lean muscles framed in the firelight. “Or,” he adds, stepping closer, “at the very least, I would’ve joined you.”
My pulse skips, and I clutch the blanket tighter. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
He smirks. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
I turn to scowl at the fire.
“Do you always talk in your sleep?” he asks.
“Only when I dream.”
His voice softens. “Was it about the dragon?”
For a moment, I don’t answer. Then I retort, “At least I don’t snore!”
“I do not,” he says, mock-offended.
“You do. Like a moose!”
Keiren laughs quietly and kneels down beside me. “You’re still shaking.”
I hadn’t noticed, but he’s right.
He takes my hands in his. His palms completely swallow mine, steadying the tremble. “May I check your side?”
I nod and roll onto my uninjured side. His fingers lift the tunic he lent me, slow and deliberate, the fabric whispering against my skin. His touch is warm, rough from swordplay yet impossibly gentle.
The cool air hits the wound, and I hiss through my teeth.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice low as a spell. “I’ve got you.”
He unwraps the bandages with care, each motion precise and delicate. His calloused thumb grazes my ribs, brushing the bruised flesh, and a shiver runs through me, one that has nothing to do with pain. As the last strip falls away, he reaches for a small jar by the hearth and twists it open. The tang of herbs and smoke reaches my nose.
“This will sting,” he warns me.
I nod, bracing myself.
He dips two fingers into the ointment and spreads it over the wound. The burn flares, then cools, magic and medicine mingling like breath and air. I feel the slight tremor in his hand as he works, like he’s fighting to stay steady.
For a heartbeat, I forget the pain entirely. No one has ever taken care of me like this, save my mother.
When he finishes, he reaches for a fresh roll of linen. “You’re healing faster than I expected,” he says quietly, winding the bandage around me with great care. “But you’ll still need to rest.” He ties the final knot with a soldier’s precision, and the warmth of his breath grazes my shoulder as he leans back. “There. Done.”
I finally remember to exhale, dizzy from the closeness. My voice comes out small. “Mariel and Cassy… Are they alright?”
His gaze softens. “Mariel’s bruised but recovering. Mae says she’s stubborn enough to be back on her feet by sundown.”
“And Cassy?”
A muscle in his jaw pulses. “She’s pretty shaken up, but alive. Arther’s watching over her.”
The knot in my chest loosens ever so slightly. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding my breath until now.
