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He met my eyes and tilted his head. Yes. “Years ago you said you couldn’t take it… us. That the oaths we’d sworn meant we couldn’t be together because I always put the rebellion first. But there was a time when everything I ever did was for you and Lex. I was a lost, homeless kid when your uncle took me in. But it was the two of you who gave me a home. It was somewhere in the mines that I realised I had forgotten what I was fighting for. But I never forgot you.”

There was truth in his gaze, but there was also a lot he wasn’t saying, and I intended to find out what it was.

I looked up at him then, really looked—the strain he kept leashed under all that control. The old Aster would have knelt, would have touched my face, would have tried to convince me with his mouth and hands. This one only stood there and watched me, and that distance hurt more than I could admit to myself.

“We leave before first light,” he signed. “You can rest for a few hours. I’ll wake you.”

“And if I decide to climb out that window instead?”

“You won’t get far.” His gaze dropped to my bandaged wrists, then to my throat, then circled back to meet my gaze. “Not tonight. Don’t go out on a Yule night alone. You know better than that.”

Too late… I had been out all the nights of Yule on my own.

But not tonight. Tonight, the cottage was shuttered against the YuleMots dancing between the stars. Tonight was the only time the Fates were likely to give us. I let my body unclench enough to find what rest I could. If only for a few hours before I would be on the run again.

19

I woke to darkness and a hand over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. My arms reacted on instinct, and I twisted, reaching for the knife on my hip that wasn’t there, but another hand caught my arm before I could drive my elbow into my attacker’s ribs.

“It’s me,” Aster whispered.

Which was, frankly, the worst possible comfort, because for one traitorous moment my whole body leaned into his warmth, and he hummed as his palm lifted slowly from my mouth. He smelled of fire, smoke, and home.

I opened my eyes and glared up at him through the dim red glow of banked embers. What was he doing pressing into me? Our eyes met. His gaze dropped to my lips and back up again. Gods, I wanted him—still, even after everything.

“Aliwen…” His tone was strained. Then his hand slid down and cupped my jaw, as his thumb ran over my cheek. He glanced up at my hair, and I realised that it was a reminder of our life before our worlds crumbled.

Then his hard exterior fell back into place, and he motioned for me to get up.

The cabin had gone still and cold around the edges. Outside, the wind was quieter than before, and the snow had stopped its constant pelting on the windows. The sort of hush that only came in the deepest part of night and in the deepest part of winter.

“You wake everyone like that?” I muttered, making sure there wasn’t a hint of jealousy in my voice.

He straightened and smirked down at me. “Only the ones most likely to scream.”

I pushed myself up on one elbow. The gouges on my neck pulsed under the bandage, and my wrists stung with the movement, but the few hours of sleep had done more for me than I wanted to admit.

“I don’t scream.”

Aster raised a brow, and a grin touched his lips. “Really? You do when…”

My huff turned into a laugh. “That was not screaming. Put a shirt on.” I pulled off the blankets, and every aching muscle demanded to crawl back beneath them and drag him with me.

His gaze trailed over me and locked on my breasts, and his mouth twitched into a small smile, but then the look vanished as he ran a hand through his hair and turned away. The Shadow had taken over.

“Drink.” He handed me a steaming cup and then slipped on a thick black shirt, covering his tattooed arms and chest.

The liquid smelled of herbs and bitter roots. I took it, suspicious. “If this puts me back to sleep, I’ll kill you.”

“It’ll keep you warm…” He was already moving around the cabin as he spoke, shrugging into a thick travelling coat and belting a knife to his ankle. “Come.”

I sat up and dressed fast, layering the wool shirt and leggings under a heavier tunic, then drank and wished I hadn’t. It tasted like bark and earth and whatever the Earthworld witches scraped from the bottom of their cauldrons when they were in a spiteful mood. “It’s revolting.”

“It works. But there are other ways to keep warm if you’d rather try those.”

Our gazes met once more. “I’m good, thanks.” And I took a long drink.

He snorted and crossed to the wall, taking down a fur-lined cloak far thicker than the one I had worn in Craven City. When I didn’t reach for it, he swept it around my shoulders and did up the three buttons at the top, careful not to touch my neck.