Two broken people, finding something like wholeness in each other’s shadows.
“Get some rest,” I said finally, pulling my hand away before I could do something foolish. “Tomorrow, we set out for Vaelthorne, and we’ll need our strength for what comes next.”
“Vaelthorne?”
“Yes. The origin of the Veil-touched. It’s said to have been destroyed, but Zephyr has done enough research to believe otherwise. I’m betting on the slim chance that it still exists. They should be meeting us there. Kael and Kane will be on their way back after making sure the children are safe. Zephyr will guide them to the meeting point.”
She nodded and settled back onto my cloak, but I caught the slight smile curving her lips. As if she knew exactly what effect she was having on me, and wasn’t sorry about it.
I stayed by the fire long after she fell asleep, watching the flames paint gold highlights in her dark hair, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I spent the time fashioning sandals to protect her feet. We would be traveling through the roughterrain of the Nightwood again tomorrow, and I had made up my mind to prevent any more scars from being etched into her body. Luckily, Kael had been thorough in his training. I learned early that preparation was just as important as execution.
Though insignificant compared to the importance of our success on this journey, being able to offer her even a small measure of comfort brought me an unexpected sense of relief. For the first time in my life, I found myself hoping that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth living for on the other side of all this darkness.
CHAPTER 8
SERIS
Hours later, when the storm had passed and dawn light filtered through the cracked windows, I stood slowly, testing my balance, and walked toward the far wall.
Just as I placed my left hand against it for support, Daemon entered the chamber. Without a word, he crossed the distance between us and dropped to one knee in front of me. He gently lifted my right ankle, still covered in cuts and bruises. In his hand was a sandal woven from straw. He slipped it onto my foot, and it fit perfectly.
His hands were cool against my skin, but warmth bloomed in my chest all the same. Heat rose to my cheeks before I could stop it.
“Th-thank you,” I managed as he slid the second sandal onto my other foot.
Daemon remained on one knee, his eyes lifting to meet mine. His long, wavy black hair fell partly across his face.
“You’re welcome.”
He held my gaze as he rested his elbow against his knee. I broke the connection first and tested my new shoes, taking a few tentative steps. A quiet chuckle escaped him when I gave a small experimental hop.
Without another word, I left the chamber and descended the stairs, feeling lighter than I had the night before. I heard Daemon’s heavy footsteps follow as I stepped outside and drew in my first breath of fresh air since the storm.
The rain had stopped just before dawn, leaving the world washed clean and scented with wet earth and growing things. We broke our fast on the last of Daemon’s supplies, dried meat that tasted like leather and water that had taken on the flavor of the skin it was stored in. Not much, but enough to keep us moving.
The watchtower looked different in daylight, less forbidding, more tragic. Ivy had begun reclaiming the stone in places, and birds had built nests in the broken crenellations. It had once been beautiful, before whatever had turned it from guard post to refuge.
“Ready?” Daemon asked, shouldering his pack.
I glanced back at the chamber that had sheltered us through the night, memorizing details I might never see again. The cold hearth where he’d built a fire with assassin’s precision. The cloak he’d spread beneath me without being asked.
Small kindnesses that meant more than they should.
“Ready,” I said.
The Nightwood had changed overnight.
It wasn’t anything I could point to specifically, the trees were still trees, the paths still paths. But something fundamental had shifted, as if the forest itself were holding its breath. The colors seemed more vivid, the shadows deeper. Every sound carried farther than it should, echoing off unseen barriers that bent noise in impossible ways.
And the trees were watching us.
I felt their attention like a weight against my skin. Some of them had stood here since before humans learned to buildcities, before the Fae withdrew into hidden places, before magic became something to fear rather than celebrate.
They knew what I was. What I represented.
“The forest is alive,” I said as we picked our way along a path that seemed to shift whenever I wasn’t looking directly at it.
