I hesitate only a heartbeat. The day has wrung me hollow, and the cold has settled deep in my bones. I lean back into his warmth and let myself rest against his chest. Saints—he’s like a human furnace.
His arms come around me, gentle and careful, as if he’s still waiting for me to change my mind.
“Is this alright?” he asks, his voice barely above a breath.
I nod, leaning into him fully—too tired to argue, too exhausted to pretend I don’t need this. I shiver again, but not from fear or cold.
When sleep finally claims me, I don’t fight it.
For the first time in a very, very long while, I feel safe enough to let go.
Chapter 23
Ashes & Oaths
Twilight stains the edge of dawn, soft and silvery, like a veil being pulled away from the world. I stir before the sun crests the horizon. I’m warm—impossibly warm, given the frost that kisses the ground beyond the edge of the ashes of our fire. There’s an arm wrapped around my waist. One below my head like a pillow. A solid chest at my back. Breath, slow and deep, warming the curve of my neck.
I freeze—panic flaring for a heartbeat—then remember.
Keiren.
I fell asleep held against him. The cursed king. The bane of my existence—who, despite his own injuries, gave me his cloak and kept me warm through the night.
And I—oh stars, I didn’t wake once. Not once. My sleep went untouched by the usual onslaught of nightmares.
The fire is nothing but embers now, yet I’m wrapped in heat. In safety. In him.
Panic flickers beneath my skin. As grateful as I am for the warmth, this… this is wrong.
I need to move. Now.
I shift slowly, carefully, trying not to wake him. But the moment I begin to slip from his hold, his arm tightens and pulls me back, right against his chest.
No.
My pulse spikes. I feel caged. Trapped. His strength surrounds me, his scent—smoke, pine, and something darker—filling my lungs. I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, but all I can feel is the weight of another memory.
Hands. Too rough. A door I couldn’t unlock. The smell of sweat and—
Breathe.
My heart stutters. My palms go clammy, and it’s hard to breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to pull myself out of the past.In four. Hold four. Out four.
And then… his body stiffens behind me. He’s awake.
Slowly, carefully, his grip loosens.
I don’t wait. I slip out from under his arm, tug his coatoff the ground, and wrap it around my shoulders. It smells like him. Of course it does.
I stumble away from the low glow of the embers, needing space. Air.
My bare feet crunch over frostbitten leaves, and I lean against the nearest tree to steady myself. The bark is cool and grounding beneath my fingers.
A soft snort draws my attention. Ashwing lifts her head. Brimstone lumbers to her side, his limp worse than I remember.
“Oh, my brave boy,” I whisper, moving toward them. “You took the worst of it, didn’t you?”
He bows his head to me, and I stroke his nose. He flinches slightly when I reach for his shoulder.
