“You did it,” he says, gaze full of approval.
I straighten my back. “Of course I did.”
He grins. “Naturally.”
I turn away quickly, because the warmth in his voice causes a strange sensation in my chest that I’d prefer not to examine too closely.
The golden light of the flames spill across the clearing, pushing the shadows back. The darkness beyond the ring of light still feels watchful, but no longer predatory.
Auren pulls out two bedrolls, placing one in each small tent. And I feel oddly disappointed, which is completely absurd.
Vaelen slips back into the trees as night settles around us, vanishing into the shadows to hunt.
Auren prepares a simple dinner of dried meat, cheese, fruit, and bread. It’s nothing like the lavish meal I’d ordered at the inn or what I’m used to back at my father’s castle, but it’s filling, nonetheless.
I eat quietly, the fire warming my hands, my shoulders still sore from driving stakes into stubborn earth.
When I’m finished, Auren pulls out a small, wrapped package. “What is that?”
He unwraps the parcel and places a slice of lemon cake in front of me.
My lips part. “Where did you get that?”
“I bought it before we left the inn, because I knew you liked it,” he replies casually, as if it’s not one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.
My chest tightens. “That was… very thoughtful of you.”
He grins. “You’re welcome, me'lira.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because it’s what you are.”
I blink, caught off guard once more as he uses this term of affection. Quickly, I avert my gaze and turn my attention back tomy lemon cake, pretending this word does not affect me. Even though it unfortunately seems to be beginning to do just that.
The forest seems to grow louder once the sun is gone. Crickets trill, an owl calls from somewhere unseen, and the river murmurs steadily behind us. A pair of glowing eyes blink at me from the dark woods before disappearing. It’s probably some sort of nocturnal creature—a fox or something similar.
For a moment, it reminds me of my recurring nightmare… of stone beneath my feet, vines thick with thorns, and those terrible golden eyes watching me from the dark.
I push the thought away quickly and I tell myself I’m not afraid. I’ve faced courts full of powerful men without blinking. Surely, I can handle a few trees.
Auren moves easily through the dim light, as if the dark belongs to him. He circles the clearing once, eyes scanning, head tilted slightly, listening in a way that makes me feel blind by comparison.
When he returns, he kneels near the fire beside me.
“What are you looking for out there?” I ask even though I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
“Anything that might be a danger.”
“Like what?”
“Ogres, Trolls, bandits… Fire wolves.”
I frown. “What are Fire wolves?”
“They are similar in size to Dire wolves, but they have red eyes and their claws are tipped with venom,” he explains. “They are usually kept by Ogres, sometimes Orcs as well.”
I turn my gaze to the woods, even more wary of the forest than I was before.
