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"Time to get some rest," he went on. "Sleep...bed. Then, tomorrow, we need to reassess the situation."

At the gate, a child waited for them.

He could not have been more than ten, narrow-faced and solemn, as though he had been instructed not to speak unless spoken to. Without meeting Blaidd's eyes, he gestured for them to follow and set off down a narrow path between closely packed houses.

They made their way to the village together.

The change was immediate as they walked through the paved street.

Conversations faltered. Faces turned away just a little too slowly, while eyes lingered with suspicion and resentment. No one challenged them outright, but the air was thick with it.

Blaidd felt it like grit beneath the skin.

The house they were led to sat at the edge of the village, half-forgotten. Dust lay thick on the windowsills. The door creaked in protest when the child pushed it open.

Inside, the air smelled stale.

Beds stood unmade, blankets folded with care, but left untouched for too long. A thin layer of dust coated the table and shelves, as though the place had been prepared in haste—or not prepared at all.

A young girl arrived shortly after, eyes downcast, carrying a wooden tray. She placed it on the table without a word and left just as quickly.

Steamed buns.

They were warm, at least.

Blaidd ate because hunger demanded it, not because there was pleasure to be found. Everything tasted flat.

Sulien chewed thoughtfully, then sighed. "What I wouldn't do for a chunk of juicy steak."

He went on, unhelpfully, to describe it in loving detail—the char, the blood, the way fat melted when cooked just right. Blaidd listened with half an ear, too tired to engage, his thoughts drifting despite himself.

They bathed in cold water when it became clear the hot tap did not work. The shock of it cut through the grime, but left his muscles aching. By the time they lay down to sleep, exhaustion dragged at him like a weight.

Sulien was snoring softly within minutes.

Blaidd stared at the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the village settling around them. He thought of Fae—of the way she had walked away as if he no longer existed to her.

As sleep finally claimed him, one last thought slipped through his mind.

Would she meet him in his dreams?

Chapter 36

Blaidd woke feeling more rested than he had in weeks.

And he knew why; he felt it deep within him—that homecoming. Even in sleep, he could sense Fae.

She was a few houses away, no more. The awareness of her lay beneath his skin like a quiet current. It was a balm to his wolf. The restless edge that had plagued him for weeks lay subdued, no longer clawing at his ribs. And beneath that, to himself. The man who had been holding on to his frayed control felt the ease to relax just a little.

She was near. Not beyond oceans.

Near enough that his instincts could finally stop screaming for him to hunt her down and hide her where no one could take her away from him.

He lay still, eyes on the ceiling, breathing slow and careful, as if any sudden movement might shatter this fragile truce. The bond felt different—muted by distance, strained by hurt—but alive.

His wolf stirred inside him, nudging him to find Fae.

Memory of his dreams returned. This time, he had not met Fae in his dreams.