Her chest rises beneath my palm.
“Hold.”
The bond pulses warmly between us.
“Now release.”
Her breath leaves her in a quiet rush. Again. And again. With each breath her heartbeat steadies beneath my hand, the frantic edge of the bond fading into something calmer, deeper. For a few moments the only sound in the cottage is the quiet rhythm of her breathing and the soft crackle of the hearth behind us.
Most mortals would have failed already.
Fear is a stubborn thing. It burrows deep into the bones and refuses to loosen its grip once terror takes hold. Even trained warriors struggle to master it. Yet Elowen steadies herself with remarkable discipline.
“Again,” I murmur.
Her lashes lower slightly as she focuses.
“Inhale.”
Her breath deepens.
“Hold again.”
For a moment her heartbeat stutters beneath my hand as the link between us was, testing the edges of her control.
“Don’t fight it,” I say quietly. “Guide it.”
Her brow furrows faintly.
“I’m trying.”
“I can tell.”
She exhales slowly. The tension in her shoulders softens as the warmth of the bond settles once more into a steady pulse between us. For a moment she says nothing. Then her eyes open again, studying my face with quiet concentration.
“You feel it too,” she says.
“That would be difficult not to.”
“What does it feel like to you?”
The question catches me slightly off guard.
“Power,” I answer after a moment. “Instinct. Protection.”
Her gaze sharpens.
“Protection?”
“Yes.”
“Even when I’m only afraid of embarrassment in the market?”
A faint smile curves across my mouth.
“The bond does not distinguish between types of fear. It simply reacts.”
“That seems inefficient.”
