Chapter 13 #2
"You're right." He wouldn't look at her. "The punishment was... disproportionate. I was angry, and I reacted without—" He stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I should have listened and given you a chance to explain before I passed judgement."
The admission was unexpected and Briar felt her anger waver, confusion rushing in to fill the space.
"Then why?" she asked, the fight draining from her voice. "Why did you do it?"
He was quiet for a long moment, his hands curling into fists beneath the water. When he finally spoke, the words came slowly, like each one had to be dragged from somewhere deep.
"Because you terrified me."
She stared at him. "I... what?"
"You." He finally met her eyes, and there was something raw in his expression.
"What you make me feel. What you make me want.
I've ruled for centuries, Briar. I've made alliances, waged wars, outlasted enemies who had centuries more experience than you have years of life.
And none of them, not one, has ever made me as vulnerable as you do without even trying. "
"I don't understand."
"I know." A bitter smile crossed his face.
"Neither did I. But when Malus revealed what you'd done, when he exposed how you'd deceived me—even if you didn't mean to—all I could think was that I'd been weak.
That caring about you had made me blind.
That if I didn't cut you out completely, you would be the thing that destroyed me. "
He turned away. "So I threw you to the hunt because having you gone felt safer than admitting that I—" He stopped. "That you had power over me I've never given anyone."
Briar felt her heart squeeze, the warmth pulsing with an emotion she couldn't name.
The fight had gone out of her completely now, replaced by something far more complicated.
He'd hurt her. Deeply. Possibly irreparably.
But hearing him admit this—that he'd acted from fear rather than just cruelty—changed something.
It didn't fix it, but it changed it.
"I had decided to stay," she said quietly. "I went down one last time to tell Thomas that I would speak to you on his behalf, to get him released… but I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to stay with you because I wanted to."
His head turned sharply toward her. "What?"
"I chose you." The words hurt to say. "And you never knew, because you threw me away before I could tell you."
The expression on his face was difficult to read—regret, certainly, but also something that looked almost like pain. "Briar." He moved toward her, then stopped himself. "If I could undo it—"
"But you can't." She wrapped her arms around herself. "You can't undo the hunt. You can't erase what I went through."
"No. I can't." He looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before—helplessness. "All I can do is tell you that I was wrong. That I let fear dictate my actions when I should have been stronger. That I failed you in every way that mattered."
The anger had faded to something duller now—an ache rather than a burn. She was exhausted, wrung out from healing him and fighting him and feeling too much all at once.
"We should get back," she said finally. "The others are waiting."
He nodded slowly, making no move to touch her again. "Can you walk?"
"I'll manage."
She waded toward the spring's edge and as she pulled herself onto the rocks, she noticed his cloak lying folded where he had left it before entering the spring. She moved past it, reaching for the hem of her shift instead, wringing out what water she could.
A moment later, warmth settled across her shoulders.
She stilled as the cloak's weight draped around her, Eliam's hands adjusting it briefly before falling away. He stepped back immediately, giving her space, saying nothing.
She pulled the fabric tighter around herself, not looking at him.
They emerged from the steam-shrouded grove to find Thaine and Karse in tense silence near the tree line.
Karse sat propped against an oak, his scales still dulled but looking marginally better than in Malachar's dungeons.
The huntsman himself stood apart, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the moonlight.
Both men's gazes tracked to them immediately. Thaine's eyes lingered on Eliam's shoulder, where the puncture wound had been. He said nothing, but his expression shifted slightly—surprise, perhaps recognition of what the absence of injury meant.
Frederick chose that moment to flow toward his bowl, creating a small indignant splash as he settled in, as if scolding them all for the delay.
"Malus," Thaine said after a moment. "It won’t be long before finds out his plan with Malachar failed. He’ll come looking."
Eliam moved past them, already shifting into the cold efficiency she recognized from court. "Then we don’t have much time to prepare. Drak, can you fight?"
Karse pushed himself more upright, trying for his usual casual arrogance. "It’s Karse. I can burn things. Whether I'll survive it is another question."
"The cold damaged him more than he's admitting," Thaine said bluntly. "His core temperature is still too low. Dragon fire in his state might kill him."
"Might," Karse emphasized. "I've survived worse odds."
"No, it’s not worth the risk," Briar said quietly, studying the gray tinge to his scales, the way he trembled despite trying to hide it. "The cold got too deep."
Surprise flickered across his face. "Your concern is touching, but unnecessary."
"My concern," she said, moving closer, "is practical. We need everyone capable if we're going to survive what's coming."
She knelt beside Karse, ignoring the way both him and Eliam went still. The warmth in her chest, still humming from the spring, pulsed with recognition of damage.
"What are you doing?" Karse's voice had lost its casual edge.
"Being practical." She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the scales beneath her palm. They were too cold, barely warmer than the surrounding air. "Stay still."
"Briar—" Eliam started.
"He fought for me," she said, not looking away from Karse's wary eyes. "Against the harpies, again in Malachar's cell, when he could barely stand. The least I can do is try."
The warmth responded to her call more gently this time, perhaps exhausted from healing Eliam, or perhaps simply recognizing that Karse was other in a way that required a different touch. It flowed out in careful tendrils, seeking the cold-damaged core of him.
Karse hissed through his teeth, his body arching slightly. "That's... uncomfortable."
"It's working," Thaine observed, and she could hear genuine surprise in his voice. "His color's improving."
She found Karse's inner fire, barely an ember now, drowning in residual mountain cold. The tendrils wrapped around that ember carefully, feeding it, coaxing it back to life. Not trying to replace it but simply removing what suppressed it, letting his natural heat regenerate.
The scales beneath her palm began to warm, their color shifting from gray back towards an iridescent black-green. Karse's breathing deepened and became less labored.
Briar felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.
"Enough," Eliam said and she felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder.
She pulled back, the warmth retreating readily this time. Karse sat breathing hard, but his eyes were brighter, more alert. When he lifted his hand, small flames danced between his fingers, weak still, but present.
"Well," he said after a moment, his usual drawl returning. "That was intimate."
"That was necessary." She stood, swaying slightly. The healing had taken more than she'd thought, adding to her exhaustion.
Eliam's hand steadied her elbow, but his attention was on Karse. "Can you travel?"
"I can do whatever needs doing." Karse pushed himself to his feet, only wobbling slightly. "Though I'd prefer if it involve burning things. I have some aggression to work out."
"You'll have your chance," Thaine said. "But we need to reach the castle before Malus. The Forest Court needs to be warned, defenses prepared—"
"The Forest Court is divided," Eliam cut him off. "Half think I've gone weak. They won't follow me against Malus without proof of strength."
The words settled over Briar like cold water. Divided. Because he'd left. Because he'd left his post to rescue her from Malachar.
"But that isn’t fair, you weren’t abandoning anyone," she protested. “You’ve barely been gone a day or two.”
"And you think that matters to them?" He shook his head. "They saw me cast you out, then risk everything to retrieve you. To them, it only confirms my weakness."
Risk everything. The words echoed in her mind. She'd been so focused on her own hurt, her own anger at what he'd done, that she hadn't considered what coming for her had actually cost him.
"Then we make it not about you," Karse said, examining his claws. "Make it about territory. The Forest Court might be divided about you, but they'll unite against an outsider trying to claim what's theirs."
"He’s no outsider, and when Malus offers them an alternative to my leadership? They’ll turn." Eliam's voice had gone cold. "When he promises them strength without sentiment? I've given them weakness, in their eyes."
He turned from them, facing the dark forest. "The moment I showed care for a human, I lost their respect."
The words stung, but Briar couldn't argue with them.
Silence stretched between them, heavy with implications Briar was only beginning to understand. A fae lord didn't just leave his court undefended. A king didn't abandon his throne to rescue one human, no matter how he felt about her.
Finally, Eliam turned back, his expression set. "We return to the castle. Thaine, you'll coordinate defenses. Karse—"
"I'm not yours to command," the Drak interrupted, though without real heat. "But I have my own score to settle with Malus. He made deals with Malachar about me, about her. That makes this personal."