“I noticed.”
The quiet that settles afterward feels different from the tense silence outside. The cottage seems smaller somehow, warmer, as though the presence of him has filled the space with something grounding. The bond hums softly beneath my ribs, no longer volatile but gently alive.
For a moment we simply look at each other.
“You were watching,” I say finally.
Threxian lifts one shoulder in a slow shrug.
“Of course I was watching. You stood in front of a mob that wanted to see you burn. I would hardly miss that.”
His tone is casual, but the warmth that ripples through the bond betrays the truth beneath it. He had been paying attention to every word, every movement.
“Did I do all right?” I ask quietly.
The question slips out. Something in his expression changes when he hears it. The faint amusement fades, replaced by a deeper intensity that makes the air between us feel suddenly closer.
“You did it while covered in mud and refused to burn anyone alive,” he says slowly. “I would consider that an impressive achievement.”
I cannot help the small smile that tugs at my mouth.
“That is a very specific compliment.”
“It is also entirely accurate.”
I push myself away from the door and move toward the table, my hands resting on the familiar wood as I gather my thoughts.
“They’re planning to confine me if anything else happens.”
“I am aware.”
This makes me glance up sharply.
“You spoke to someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Corvin Halbrecht.”
The name catches me off guard.
“The woodcutter?”
“The same.”
I frown slightly as I lean back against the table.
“What did he want?”
“To warn me.”
I blink at him.
“You?”
“He appears to possess better judgment than most of the villagers currently shouting outside,” Threxian replies dryly.
