He shifts his weight against the wall, folding his arms loosely across his chest, the movement drawing my attention briefly to the quiet strength in his shoulders.
“He believes the council intends to place you in the old grain store near the chapel.”
The image forms instantly in my mind. Cold wood walls. A locked door. Guards outside.
“A cage,” I say softly.
“Yes.”
A chill slips down my spine despite the warmth of the cottage. I rub my temple with two fingers.
“That would go badly.”
“Catastrophically.”
His voice is calm, but the bond carries the darker truth beneath it. If they trap me somewhere small, surrounded by fear and suspicion, the control we have worked so hard to build might shatter.
I lift my gaze to him again.
“You didn’t kill anyone.”
One dark brow lifts.
“That sounded almost disappointed.”
“I’m proud of you,” I correct quickly.
The faint amusement that returns to his expression warms the room more than the fire in the hearth.
“That may be the most unexpected praise I have received in several centuries.”
I shake my head.
“We need a strategy.”
“Oh, I have several.”
“None of which involve burning the council.”
“That eliminates my top three.”
Despite everything, I laugh quietly. The sound seems to please him more than he expected. I take a step closer before realizing what I am doing.
“Threx—”
The nickname slips out before I can think it through. The moment it leaves my mouth, silence follows. His eyes narrow slightly.
“Threx?”
My cheeks warm instantly.
“I… shortened it.”
He tilts his head, studying me with a strange kind of curiosity, as though tasting the sound of the word in the air.
“Only you,” he says slowly, “would dare shorten the name of an infernal warlord.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
