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“Whoa.”

“Easy.” His arm slips around my waist, holding me steady. “I’ve got you.”

I blink up at him.

His face is very close.

I can see the tiny flecks of soot along his cheek and the thick, coarse hairs of his beard. He smells like smoke, hot metal, and something vaguely earthy.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you outside.”

He leads me toward the tavern door and holds it open. The cool night air hits my face the moment we step outside. I suck in a deep breath and stare up at the sky, watching the stars blur together overhead.

Lucan keeps an arm firmly around my waist as he guides me down the street.

I stumble along beside him, my feet seeming to have forgotten how to walk. The fresh air does little to clear my head. If anything, the world feels even more tilted than before.

I glance around.

We’re headed the wrong way.

“Where are we going?”

Lucan sighs. “To the forge.”

I frown up at him. “Why?”

“Because your cottage is too far away.”

“I can walk.”

“You just fell on your face.”

I open my mouth, but no argument comes out.

Lucan shakes his head, though there’s a hint of amusement in his expression. “It’s too long a walk back to your place tonight. You can stay with me.”

I blink. “With you?”

“Yes.”

My brain struggles to process that. “In your workshop?”

Lucan snorts. “No. In my home.”

We reach the forge, and Lucan leads me through the front door. The familiar warmth and scent of smoke surround me, but instead of taking me toward the workbench, he guides me along the side wall.

He stops in front of a wooden door and opens it to reveal a narrow staircase.

“I live upstairs,” he says.

I blink slowly. “Oh.”

I take one step.

Then another.

My vision blurs, and I reach for the wall, slumping against it as the stairs swirl below me. I grasp for the railing, but my hand misses.