My eyes lifted to his, those irises alight with understanding. “It’s another way to protect others,” Aire murmured. “It’s diverse and includes everyone.”
Truth.
Ducking my head to conceal the smile, I whirled from him. Returning to the swing set, I placed my hatchet on the floor and chose a seat. Pressing my toes to the ground, I reeled into motion, increasing momentum. While nightfall enveloped the woods, I threw back my head, leaning far enough for my bun to unspool and the tips of my hair to brush the planks, the blanket tumbling off my shoulders.
As I launched backward, the swing came to a stop. I yelped, hovering mid-air.
Masculine heat loomed behind me, his heartbeat tapping between my shoulder blades. The knight gripped the ropes, his calloused fingers resting atop my own, suspending me against his frame.
Aire’s breath teased my earlobe. “You are frightening the owl.”
Ahead, the creature gawked. Its platter eyes reflected agitation over the swing’s raucous creaking, which signified that I must have broken a treehouse ordinance.
I licked my lips and called out, “Sorry. I’ll tone it down.”
The swing was released. I bumped my toes into the boards, slowing as Aire rounded the seat. Lantern flames sketched his naked torso, highlighting the ridges.
He paused, casting the neighboring swing a dubious look. I bit my lower lip, mirthful at the vision of this surly knight inspecting the seat like a booby trap. Yet he adapted easily, balancing without needing the ropes.
We grew quiet, rocking gingerly while listening to the creek slosh from below. The companionable silence eased the restlessness I felt earlier in bed.
“Your turn,” I prompted. “Why did you choose to be a soldier?”
Aire halted his swing. “As you said, I endeavor to protect this world.”
“But which people?”
“All people?”
“But who most of all?”
“Why do you ask this of me?” he snapped, veering my way.
I frowned, ready to give tongue-lashing number one thousand and one. But Aire’s guarded expression cut off that instinct, bringing to mind a question I asked before our mouths crashed together in The Pumpkin Wood.
“Who are you really trying to save?”
Back then, it had been a mere hunch. Tonight, the words struck another chord.
As I kept silent, vulnerability twisted Aire’s features. He glanced toward the enclave, his voice thinning to a wisp. “My brother.”
Shit. I hadn’t expected that.
But I should have.
The death of his brother was no secret among the clan. Neither was the boy’s condition, which had been identical to Nicu’s. Yet Aire left gaps in the story, omitting the details of what happened or how his brother died.
An ache clutched my stomach. What would it be like to lose someone forever? To lose them to an unseen place, where you could no longer see or hear each other?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
But those feeble words fell short. Balancing them on my tongue felt brittle and frail, as if they might shrivel to ashes.
“I spent the first half of tonight standing guard outside Nicu’s cabin, although I sensed no threat,” Aire said, glancing about. “However unpredictable its whims, this forest has chosen to protect him. Therefore, it challenges me to stop hovering, which is a difficulty. I tried conceding, distracting myself with training, though the lingering pull to Nicu’s chamber did not abate until you appeared. Were it not for that, I believe I’d have returned to my liege’s threshold.”
Bowing his head, the knight rubbed his palms together. “He just reminds me so much of…” His eyes closed, a distant memory sweeping through his mind. Then his throat constricted, a depleted whisper surfacing from a buried place in his chest. “How I long to feast my eyes upon my brother once more.”
My palm landed on his arm. “It’s okay to want that.”
