Ilaris
Jasper’s arrival was a welcome distraction.
I pressed my face into silken fur and let the rhythm of his breathing steady my own.
My thoughts careened like loose stones down a mountainside.
I’d followed Killian without question until now, bound by blood oath and the physical pain of separation.
But here we stood, roles reversed: him sprawled in the grass while my salvaged armor had kept me whole.
Everything had fractured, but he’d hinted at my freedom.
He’d spoken of severing ties, of returning me to my old life, my world of dusty archives and academic feuds.
I had enough notes, even if my journal dissolved to pulp.
I carried memories of him, not only of everything he’d told me, but also of our time in the river, every taste, every touch.
I felt it like a brand, but this was heavier than that, because I also had the Heart.
Its magic pulsed beneath my tunic, steady as my own heartbeat, radiating a comforting warmth.
I’d meant to keep it a secret, insurance against what came next, especially because I was upset with him.
Yet the truth spilled from my lips before I could stop it, tumbling out like water through a cracked dam.
Because I yearned for that connection to him, and part of me believed that by offering truth, I might earn his in return. The naivety of it stung.
My attraction to him was dangerous. It muddled my thoughts, made me crave the depths of those golden eyes when they caught the light, the rare transformation of his face when something approaching joy broke through.
Yet what did I truly know of the nature of giants?
Of their culture, their customs, the architecture of their hearts?
The incident in the Verdant Maw had illuminated two truths.
First: I needed to reclaim my training and act like a scholar.
Ask questions, unravel meaning, and seek multiple perspectives rather than blindly believing every word from his lips.
Faith could not be warranted when it came to giants.
There was a reason they were wiped from the face of the earth, and I needed to be careful, very careful in my dealings with him.
Which led to my second truth. I needed to think with my head instead of my heart.
During my apprenticeship, I’d learned to triangulate truth from conflicting sources, to weigh evidence against bias.
I’d assumed I’d only have Killian’s perspective, but now I had the stone giant’s words, weighed with meaning I did not fully grasp. And possibly the scroll.
My recovered satchel lay beside me like a question I was afraid to answer.
Opening it meant confronting hope or devastation: the scroll intact or reduced to illegible pulp.
Or worse, discovering that its contents only deepened the mystery, challenging me to unravel layers of truth I wasn’t ready to face.
And then there was Killian himself.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but pain etched lines around his mouth, tightened the skin at his temples and his knuckles.
Every muscle was taut, rigid, and he moved as if every breath cost him.
How long did giants require to heal? We were stranded in these remote wilds, isolated from any settlement that might offer aid.
Alone.
“Jasper found a cave.” Killian’s voice emerged hollow, every syllable dragged from some deep place.
I picked up my bag, glancing between him and Jasper. “How do you know?”
A slow smile ghosted across his face, there and gone like sunlight through fast-moving clouds. “He told me.”
Of course. They spoke a secret language, one I couldn’t access.
Killian had known Jasper’s name before I did, even though I was the one who’d found him as a pup.
Jasper always shifted to a larger size, right when I needed to ride on him most. He’d vanished in the Verdant Maw, only to return with my satchel and knowledge of shelter.
The implications twisted through my mind.
Telepathy? One of the scholars had been developing a thesis on it, the theory that heightened minds or those under extreme duress could communicate without speech. He would be completely unmoored by this situation.
I pushed the speculation aside. It wasn’t important right now. Standing, I brushed grass off my clothes. “Can you walk?”
Killian watched me with that guarded expression, the one that concealed everything except when arousal cracked his composure. Those moments I cataloged with shameful attention, each one a treasure I wanted to provoke again, consequences be damned.
“With Jasper’s help, I’ll manage.” His jaw tightened. “It’s not far.”
I gathered the scattered pieces of armor while Killian hauled himself upright, teeth gritted against sounds that emerged anyway—low groans that made something clench beneath my ribs.
I wanted to help, to offer my shoulder, my hands.
But he was fire, we couldn’t touch. Instead, I watched as he draped one arm across Jasper’s back—too proud even to ride—and we picked our way across the wet hillock toward a rise in the ground.
Between the weaving curtains of grass, a dark mouth opened in the earth.
I would have missed it entirely, but Jasper’s sharp nose found what my eyes couldn’t, the entrance camouflaged by vegetation that grew thick across the opening. I hesitated at the threshold while Jasper trotted inside, followed by Killian’s halting steps.
It smelled of wet stone, and somewhere, deeper, came the sound of running water. Pale light filtered through the parted grass, and I stood just inside the entrance, letting my vision adjust to the shadows.
As the darkness resolved, details emerged.
Brown walls shone with moisture. A faint shimmer of mica caught the light, scattered across the stone like a dusting of starlight.
The cave opened wider than I expected, its mouth gaping to reveal stone shelves carved into the walls.
Sleeping platforms, perhaps. Beneath an overhang sat an ornately designed chest, its surface worked with patterns that even from this distance looked deliberate.
My heart kicked against my sternum.
Every scholar read about treasure, about knowledge seekers who ventured into forgotten places and returned with artifacts that rewrote history. But finding one? Standing before an actual chest, ornate and waiting?
If Killian told me not to open it, I didn’t know what I’d do.
To remove the temptation, I walked deeper into the cave, drawn by curiosity and the promise of answers.
Toward the back, a narrow passageway opened onto a small underground bank where water rushed past. I dipped my fingers in. It was frigid, fresh, and fast-moving.
We had water, shelter, all we lacked was food. Otherwise, we could remain here for days if necessary.
“Ilaris.”
The way he said my name—that single word—sent sensations cascading through me. A shiver began at the base of my skull and traveled down my spine, spreading warmth through my limbs. A longing so acute it bordered on physical pain settled low in my belly and refused to fade.
I returned through the narrow passage to find him slumped against the wall, eyes closed. The simple act of reaching shelter had drained him.
He lifted one broad hand, finger extending toward the treasure chest. “You should open it.”
A bolt of euphoria hummed through me as I turned.
Only then did I see it.
Carved onto the lid, worked into the decorative patterns with such skill that I’d missed it at first glance . . .
His name.
I went to my knees, a roaring in my ears as I attempted to decipher what it meant.
Was I overreacting? It was a chest from a lost era, a time that Killian lived.
Surely it wasn’t odd for a treasure chest with his name to be here.
But the coincidence was difficult to overcome.
Given the discoveries I’d recently made about him, the gifts of the gods, and the stone giant, I knew I shouldn’t rely on assumptions to guide me.
With narrowed eyes I glanced back at him. He’d closed his eyes, head tilted back, lips pressed together in a thin line of pain. I didn’t want to feel for him, but I did, and that need, that desire to touch him came over me again.
“How is this here?” I choked out.
He grunted, his beautiful eyes opening, brow creasing as though he didn’t understand the question.
“A treasure chest with your name on it,” I said flatly. “And this cave, a refuge from the sudden flood, and Jasper conveniently leads us here. This warrants an explanation.”
His mouth curved in fleeting amusement. “It is a wedding gift, a tradition. My bride and I were going to travel here during our wedding tour. Each kingdom collected gifts, and presented them in the form of a hunt. A challenge for the bride and groom to take together with a reward at the end. Clearly we’ve stumbled upon the reward. ”
My chest tightened. How awkward that I should open a wedding gift for a bride and groom that did not involve me. A pang went through me, yet my fingers trembled because I wanted to see what was inside. But one more question gave me pause. “Why isn’t her name on the chest?”
Killian sighed. “Why indeed. Are you going to open it, or question me all day?”
I pulled the latch, a simple unlock, and using both hands, lifted the lid.
Dust coughed off it, and it creaked, groaning from centuries of disuse.
I was half-afraid that whatever was inside might be rotten, moldy, useless.
Amber light shone, revealing a sheet of beaten copper that lined the inside of the chest. There were no cobwebs, and everything inside looked as fresh and new as though it had been placed inside moments ago.
Preserved by a magic I didn’t understand.
Gems the size of my fist nestled in velvet cases, rubies that burned like fire, sapphires deep as midnight water, and emeralds that held entire forests in their depths.
Beside them lay chains of worked gold, each link intricately carved.
A necklace of silver so fine it looked like captured moonlight.
Beside the precious gems lay ceremonial goblets, their surfaces etched with ancient scenes.
I wanted to copy the drawings, to study the craftsmanship and sketch my own versions.
My fingers itched, touching the smooth stones, letting the moonlight necklace pool in my palm, imagining how it might feel to wear it.
But then I remembered the treasures were for her, his unnamed bride, and I dug deeper.
The treasure shifted from impressive to intimate.
A circlet of white gold, delicate as frost, sized for a woman.
Beside it lay matching daggers with jeweled hilts.
A length of silk the color of dawn, embroidered with runes, and a mirror in an ornate frame, its surface dark until I tilted it, and my own face stared back, eyes wide with wonder.
My fingers hovered over the circlet. Beautiful as it was, it was a wedding gift, meant for a bride to wear, to use, to treasure.
To use to seduce her husband. A bride who could stand beside Killian without burning.
Who could take his hand, share his fire, and build a future the way it was meant to be.
The feeling that twisted through my chest had teeth.
It gnawed at my ribs, sharp and ugly and entirely unwelcome.
I had no right to this sensation, no claim to these items or the future it represented.
Most of all, I had no claim on Killian, even though—and the admission came slow—from the moment I’d met him, I’d been utterly, completely besotted by him.
The word “besotted” sank in the pit of my belly like a stone I’d never intended to swallow. I forced myself to look at the daggers, not at him. “What am I looking for?” I asked.
A sigh, and then, “I’m not sure. We’ll know when we find it.”
I kept going. Beneath the intimate items lay scrolls bound in ribbon—I did not open them—a leather-bound book, its pages blank. Maps drawn on parchment, vivid in color with depictions of a land unlike where we lived now.
At the very bottom of the chest, wrapped in cloth, was something small. I unwrapped it carefully, revealing a plain wooden box. It sat innocently in the palm of my hand, and I shifted, ensuring Killian had a view from where he slumped against the stone.
I had a feeling this might be what he was looking for, but when I opened the box, there, lying on a bed of velvet, were three large seeds.
They looked like beans, and each one was almost the length of my forefinger.
They were brown, shriveled, and dried. Apparently, the magic of the chest had not extended to them.
“We’ll need those seeds,” Killian said, something like relief in his tone.
“They look dead,” I objected.
“They look like seeds,” he said. “We’ll need them for the Sky Kingdom.”
Without a word, I set the box down beside him. But the chest wasn’t empty yet. I lifted out a coil of rope, and then clothes fit for a prince. A silk shirt, long pants, and shoes. A dress, a tunic, a skirt. Two pairs of clothes, one for the bride, one for the groom.
“Take what you like,” Killian said. “They are gifts.”
Gifts. The taste of it was bitter in my throat.
Months ago, if I’d found such wealth and riches, I would have rejoiced at my good fortune.
I would have written a paper about it, settled into my new life as a scholar, purchased land, a home, even funded one of my own research trips.
But now it all felt hollow, meaningless.
Because wealth couldn’t buy the one thing I wanted most, and I dared not speak the words aloud, lest I give them too much weight and truth.