Daemon sat at the low table, bent over a map drawn on leather. He carefully inspected the routes and territories marked in precise ink. His head lifted the instant I entered. His dark eyes found mine across the room.
The defeated sag in my shoulders immediately stiffened as the air around me felt different.
Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, memories of last night filling the space. My mind replayed everything that had happened, and everything that hadn’t.
Sweat gathered in my palms as the thought that I should say something became unavoidable. Before I could manage it, Daemon broke the silence.
“How was training?”
His voice cut through the tension. I couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately casual or if he truly felt nothing after last night. He spoke as if nothing had changed between us at all.
I exhaled, grateful and oddly disappointed in equal measure. “Interesting.”
“That’s good?” The faintest hint of amusement touched his mouth as he straightened. “Lyralei doesn’t strike me as a forgiving instructor.”
“She’s not.” I moved farther into the room, letting the door swing shut behind me. “But she’s patient. I don’t know if I have it in me to repay that patience with improvement.”
Daemon’s gaze followed me as I crossed to the narrow window. Sunset in Vaelthorne cast a mesmerizing twilight glow. Lanterns had begun to light throughout the settlement. Paired with the sun’s fading rays, everything was bathed in warm ember light.
“Your team,” I said, forcing my mind to something other than my inadequacies. “Are they,”
“Awake and stable.” Barely detectable relief colored his tone. “Zephyr will need a few more days before he’s fit to travel,but the healers say there won’t be lasting damage. They’re remarkable. I’d leave Zephyr here a couple more weeks to learn their methods, but we have more pressing matters, and I need him with us.”
The knot in my chest loosened. I hadn’t realized how much weight I’d been carrying, the fact that these people had sacrificed their bodies and risked their lives to save me.
“I’m glad.”
“They’re grateful too. You’re the reason they’re alive.” Daemon stood, pushing himself up without assistance. He walked to the wall beside the window and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Kael wanted me to tell you that personally, but he’s under strict orders not to leave the healing ward.”
“No worries. I’ll go visit them myself tomorrow.”
Daemon nodded.
Silence returned, once again rearing its unpleasant head.
Warmth bloomed through my body, still unfamiliar. I turned from the window to face him properly.
“About last night,”
“Don’t.”
The word came firm but not harsh. Daemon took a step forward, closing half the distance between us before stopping.
“You don’t owe me an apology, Seris.”
“I was drunk. I threw myself at you like some,”
“And I didn’t stop you.” He broke off, shaking his head slightly.
I studied his expression, searching for signs of regret, or pity, or worse, obligation. I found none of them. Only steady certainty and something softer I couldn’t quite name.
“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “you’re welcome to throw yourself at me any time you please.”
A foolish grin tugged at the corner of my lips, but I forced it back. I couldn’t find the words to reply. My face flushed red once again.
Daemon gave in first, a smile spreading across his lips. A smile that made something flutter strangely inside me.
I broke eye contact, suddenly finding the hardwood floor very interesting.
