Wrapped tight in the blanket, I trudge after him in the oversized boots he made me wear, his own, so I don’t end up with splinters, cuts, or a dramatic collapse that would end with him hauling me home. A situation he’s clearly eager to avoid.
Another pang of guilt settles as I watch him walk barefoot, though he hides any discomfort behind that infuriating calm of his. He didn’t have to give me his boots, but he did, and then practically ordered me to wear them.
He did offer to go back to the cabin so I could change properly, but that would’ve meant hours in the wrong direction. So I declined.
The trees seem taller now, their branches stretching like skeletal fingers.
I want to start a conversation to relieve tension between us, but the words won’t come out. They claw at my throat, rising only to wither before they reach my tongue.
Every time I try to speak, fragments from the first Challenge return to me, when our minds were forced together. I hadn’t understood mostof them then, but I had felt them. Felt him. The agony of his loss and pain made me want to scream.
My gaze drifts to his back. In the dim light, I can’t tell if he’s still leaving any trace of blood. But the way he moves, steadier now, no longer hunched, tells me the chains have stopped grinding into him. He must have healed by now.
That thought lingers, turning over in my mind until it settles into a sharp revelation. I finally understand why Kaelzar knew exactly how to treat the wounds on my hands. He’s tended the same ones before—his own. And while I have Blood magic to mend mine until not even a scar remains, he must have had no one willing to heal his.
The realization twists inside me. Without meaning to, I threw his past back at him, used his pain like a weapon. Am I really any better than Calista?
We walk for hours, my thoughts circling the same guilt and regret, searching for some way to make it right. The night stretches on endlessly. My feet scream in protest when Kaelzar abruptly stops in front of me.
I blink and see what caught his attention: a hunting lodge, weathered but sturdy, its walls streaked with moss.
Two horses stand tied to a post nearby, their breaths steaming faintly in the cool night air.
Without a word, he strides toward the lodge.
I hesitate, watching as he reaches into a small pouch and withdraws a handful of coins. He places them on a barrel near the entrance before untying one of the horses.
“We’ll take this one,” Kaelzar says quietly, his voice as flat as ever.
“One horse?” I blurt out in a whisper, exhaustion sharpening my tone. “What about the other one?”
He turns, his shadowed face unreadable. “What about it?”
“Why not take both?” I frown. The answer should be obvious. Two people. Two horses. It makes sense. “So we don’t have to crowd this one.”
He tilts his head. Something shifts in his posture, something that tells me he’s amused, but not in a kind way.
“You want to leave whoever’s inside with no means of transportation? Just strand them here in the middle of the forest?” He lets out a sound, half a chuckle, half a disappointed huff. A sound that makes me feel small. “What’s next? Are you planning to demand their friendship after that too?”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I hug the cover closer. “Fine,” I mutter, looking away.
Kaelzar turns back to the horse, his movements precise as he secures its bridle. Through the low cut of his vest, I notice then that his chains lie flat against his skin.
He glances at me over his shoulder, his tone brusque. “Get on.”
I hesitate, my hands tightening around the edges of the cover wrapped around me. I glance at the horse, then at the heavy folds of fabric encasing me.
I can’t climb up like this, not with the cover in the way. Slowly, I loosen my grip and let it fall, the cool night air brushing over my exposed skin.
My breath catches as I look down at myself. The thin band wrapped tightly across my chest, meant for sleep rather than modesty, barely seems sufficient, and the soft undergarments hugging my hips offer no real protection against the chill.
A flush rises to my cheeks, my arms instinctively crossing in front of me as a futile shield.
Kaelzar turns toward me then, his hooded gaze flickering briefly over me before settling on the horse. His hands lift in a silent offer.
My body is tired, but not incapable so I could climb up myself. Logic tells me I should. That I should keep my distance, maintain whatever fragile boundary remains between us. And yet, I hesitate. I can’t explain the need, the strange pull that makes me accept his help.
My heart pounds as I step closer, allowing his hands to settle firmly at my waist. His hands tighten, firm but careful, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me.
