The sun had set and the clouds were dark and heavy above them as Daena limped slowly ahead, leading them to a small tent on the far side of the camp.
Keely took long, slow breaths of the cold air, tasting the bitter tang of snow and letting the biting wind clear some of her terror. She had been afraid since she’d been captured, but by far the worst had been the fear that Tor was going to be cut down in front of her. She cast a glance toward him, quiet and stern beside her, reassuring herself that he was unharmed. She was still deeply angry with him, but it didn’t change the fact that his death would have broken her.
Caius bellowed and within a minute three guards were stationed outside, watching as Keely, Tor and Daena shuffled into a tiny canvas tent. It was threadbare and bleak, holding nothing but a pile of ancient sleeping blankets and an unlit lantern swinging from a hook. The guards took up position arrayed around the front of the tent and pulled the flap closed, leaving them huddled in the darkness.
Goose bumps prickled over Keely’s arm as the wind rattled the canvas. Bard, it was freezing. And then, before she could even pull her cloak tighter, Tor was there, running his big hands up her arms, across her back, and pulling her tightly to his chest.
“Gods, Keely,” he whispered into her hair. “I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been so frightened before in my life.”
She leaned back, trying to see his face in the darkness. She wanted him to hold her, wanted to lean on him, but she didn’t know if she could. She didn’t know if she could bear to have her hope crushed again.
He loosened his grip, letting her go, but at the same time, he spoke softly. “I’m sorry, Keely, so fucking sorry. I do trust you. Completely.”
Hope and fear battled each other in her belly, and she held herself still. “Did you mean it, Tor? When you said you believed me?”
His fingers flexed against her back. “Yes. With my life. With the life of our child, I trust you.”
Bard. She blinked heavily at the threatening tears. “But then why did you say—”
“Keely.” His voice was warm and certain, the same strong anchor that had held her in the churning moat all those weeks before. “When I said, ‘it’s you,’ I meant that you’re it for me. You’re the only one who makes me crazy. But it’s not because you’re not enough, it’s because I’m fucking terrified you’ll leave.”
“I make you crazy?” she repeated softly.
“You make me vulnerable. If you go, you’ll take the last remaining piece of my heart with you. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, and so, sometimes, I don’t say anything. Or I try, and the words come out wrong. But it's only because it means so much to me. Becauseyoumean so much to me.”
“Bard, Tor.” She swallowed down the burning tears. It was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make. And it meant the world. “All I wanted was for us to take a chance on each other.”
“I’ll give anything, do anything, to take that chance. Please forgive me.”
His fingers trembled on her back. He held her like she was precious to him, like he never wanted to let her go.
“Can I trust you, soldier?” she whispered.
“Yes.” His deep voice rumbled in the darkness. “You can trust me with your life.” And then he added, “I trust you too. With my life, and with… everything.”
It was all she needed. She trusted him. And she could forgive him. She ran her hands up to find his face, then went up on her toes to set her lips on his. Nothing else mattered, only that they were together. That he was alive.
Tor slanted his mouth over hers, and they both sighed. His fingers threaded through her hair and held her locked against him as if he was terrified she might pull away. But there was nowhere she wanted to be other than in his arms.
A flint struck, and light flared around them, and then a quiet voice whispered, “Oh, damn, sorry. Ah… truth, by the way… if you wanted to know. Never mind.”
They pulled apart, her hands still wrapped around Tor’s neck, his fingers still entwined in her hair, and Tor rested his forehead down on hers. They stayed like that for a moment, not speaking. There was too much to say. And this was not the time.
Keely turned her head to take in the woman currently carefully looking away. Now that they were closer, she could see Daena wasn’t quite as young as she’d first suspected. Fine lines wrinkled the sides of her eyes, and she had a steady, quiet presence that spoke to some maturity.
Daena pulled out a water skin and offered it to them. Keely glared at it, and the woman holding it, shaking her head. Certainly not.
Daena took a long series of swallows herself before offering it again. “It’s safe.”
Keely took the water skin and drank deeply before passing it to Tor, but she never took her eyes off the Nephilim.
Eventually, Daena lifted her arm and turned to show a small hole in her dress, stained dark red. “Usna had his dagger in my ribs. I didn’t have any choice but to confirm whatever Andred said.”
Keely leaned against Tor, so grateful he was there, and glared at Daena. “Why should we trust you?”
“I’m a prisoner, like you,” Daena said softly.
Keely couldn’t help her disbelieving snort.
