His hands slid slowly beneath the hem of my tunic, the calloused pads of his fingers grazing the curve of my spine, learning me in pieces – slowly and with care. My breath caught, not from heat, but from the way he touched me like I was something real, somethingwhole, not forged by fire or fate but simply made of skin and want. I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his, letting our breaths tangle in the space between, and he wrapped his arms around me like a shield.
I pushed his shirt back off his shoulders as his lips found my neck. His teeth gently graced the sensitive skin there, and I arched into the touch. He made quick work of my tunic as well, his fingers tracing my edges and his lips following them like he intended to memorise paths across my frame.
When we kissed again, the warmth in my blood stirred like a tide, rising not in waves but in swells, matching the rhythm of his hands as they moved across my back, my hips, my thighs. The room responded as if it had been waiting – the hearth glowing with a steady flame, the candlelight flaring full, casting amber across our skins. And still, the fire held its shape. It did not climb or devour. Itwitnessed.
When he pressed me under him, I laced my fingers through the hair at his neck, clinging to him for dear life. Our bodies, now connected and one, moved together until he shuddered above me and I breathed his name into the air, and for a moment, the flames in the room glowed as bright as the sun.
By the time the last light had faded from the rafters and the shadows thickened into something closer to night, we dressed again – slower this time, like neither of us really wanted the moment to end. I pulled my hair back into a braid with quick, practised fingers. Mathias helpedme with the laces of my tunic, his fingers working unhurried. When the last knot was tied, he pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, then stepped back to fasten his own kyrtill. There was a new weight in his posture, not from doubt, but from readiness. The kind that settled into your bones when you knew the next step would lead you into uncharted peril, and you took it anyway.
I found an old chest near the back wall, half-collapsed under the weight of time, and pried it open with the heel of my boot. Inside, beneath a folded oilskin and the stale scent of mildew, lay a few battered pieces of armour. The fit was wrong, but I made it work – a vambrace here, a shoulder guard there, leather straps pulled tight until they held fast. I passed a pair of greaves to Mathias, and he buckled them on without question. Outside, the wind had shifted – sharper now, bearing something more than cold.
He moved to the door, hand resting lightly on the frame. “Riders,” he said, his voice pulled taut.
I was at his side in an instant. Two figures, coming up along the river path, their horses swift but unhurried, like they belonged to this place and had no need to rush. Still, my pulse kicked hard beneath my ribs. My fingers curled around the edge of the doorframe, bracing against the surge that rose within me – sharp, alert. I stepped out into the open, grabbed one of the lanterns from its hook on the wall, and raised it high. Once. Twice. A third time. Each lift cut clean through the dark – a signal cast wide but meant for a few, known only to those who had ridden beside me long enough to learn its meaning.
Mathias turned to me, brow furrowed, but I said nothing – not yet, not until I was sure. My eyes were fixed on the figures approaching, the slow certainty of their pace, the way the lead rider sat in the saddle like they belonged to the land itself.
Then, from across the clearing, the rider lifted a sword high. Once. Twice. A third time. The arc of it caught the moonlight with eachmotion, gleaming silver-bright – deliberate, unmistakable.
My breath caught, sharp and sudden, and a warmth spread in my chest so fierce it almost hurt. “It’s them.”
Mathias glanced sideways. “Who?”
I was already stepping forward, the lantern still clutched in my hand. “Astrid”, I said, “and Daen.”
They dismounted before the horses had even stilled. Astrid all but threw her reins to the ground and crossed the space between us in a few hurried strides, arms already outstretched, her face crumpling with disbelief and fury and something dangerously close to relief. I dropped the lantern just in time to catch her. She pulled me in with the strength of someone who had spent too many nights convincing herself she would never get the chance. Behind her, Daen’s steps were slower, but when he reached us, he wrapped his arms around the both of us and bowed his head, tucking it against my shoulder like he was laying something down at last.
“You absolutebastard,” Astrid said thickly, and I felt her knuckles thump lightly against my back before curling back into the fabric of my tunic. “Where in all the hells have youbeen? We thought – Her voice cracked, and she didn’t finish.
“I know,” I said, the words muffled by her hair. “I’m sorry.”
Daen stepped back, his eyes tracing me as if fitting pieces together, measuring them against the last memory he had of me. Then his gaze turned to Mathias, who had lingered respectfully by the door and raised one brow.
“And who”, Astrid said, finally letting go, “isthis?”
Mathias looked faintly alarmed. I cleared my throat. “This is Mathias. He… helped me. Kept me alive.” I didn’t look at him when I said it, but the truth of it settled low in my chest.
“Helped you?” Astrid repeated, incredulous. “You vanish into thin air fora month, and when we finally find you, you’ve gottwiglegsoverhere playing honour guard?”
“I like him,” Daen said, deadpan.
That drew the beginnings of a smile from her – begrudging, but real. “You would.”
I took a breath and steadied myself. “Where’s Benni?”
Astrid’s grin faded. “Harbour’s Bane. Still holding the fort.”
“He wouldn’t come?”
“He couldn’t,” Daen said. “Not since the Acolytes arrived. A few days ago, they turned up with new scrying glasses—asked for the General of course. He couldn’t risk it. If they’d known we didn’t know where you were…” His jaw clenched. “He’s trying to keep suspicion off the scent. But he’s been going insane with worry, with the spies and scouts coming back empty-handed. We told him to wait. We’d go. Find you if we could.”
My throat tightened. “You said… a month?”
Astrid gave a slow nod. “You’ve been gone longer than you think.”
She reached for the waterskin at her hip, took a swig, then handed it to me. “We looked for you as far as Tirn’Vahl. Found a burned temple. Half a dozen townsfolk saying they’d seen a woman walk through fire and come out whole. One little boy swore your hair was made of sunlight and your eyes were rings of gold.”
She narrowed her gaze at me, head tilting. “So, what–youplaywith fire now?”
