Chapter 25
Garrion POV
I lie awake, staring into the darkness, my body refusing the mercy of sleep.
Beside me, Cora rests peacefully, her breath steady, her warmth pressed close.
Tonight I claimed her slowly, deliberately, savoring every moment, memorizing the way she feels beneath me, the softness of her lips, the quiet surrender in her touch.
I tried to etch her into me, as though I could carry her with me when I leave. I tell myself it will only be two weeks, that I’ll return to this bed, to her, to the solace of her presence. But the uncertainty gnaws at me. Two weeks can stretch into forever when duty calls.
Dawn creeps closer, its pale light threatening to spill across the horizon. I watch her sleep, wondering if I should wake her. Would she be angry if I slipped away without a word? Or would waking her only make the parting harder, tearing her from the peace she deserves?
My chest tightens with the weight of the choice. I want to spare her pain, yet I ache for one last look into her eyes, one last word, one last touch before I go.
“Cora,” I whisper her name into the quiet, and she stirs, turning toward me with wide eyes. She knows. She doesn’t need me to say it, I have to go.
I press a gentle kiss to her lips before rising from the bed.
She follows without hesitation, dressing swiftly and pulling on my cloak, the one she has taken to wearing as though it binds us together.
I don’t question it. It feels right. It is her duty, her honor, to send me on my way, and I will not deny her that.
I take her hand as we walk through the dim corridors toward the stables. The silence between us is heavy, filled with all the words I cannot find. I don’t know what to say that would make leaving hurt less.
The stables are alive with movement, my men already gathered, their wives standing close, offering final embraces and whispered prayers. The air is thick with farewells, with the weight of partings that may stretch longer than promised.
Mika waits with my horse, reins in hand, his expression steady.
I turn to Cora, my heart tightening at the sight of her. “I will be back as soon as I can,” I promise, my voice low but firm. I lean in and kiss her gently, trying to pour all my certainty into that single touch.
“I will be waiting,” she whispers back, her voice trembling but resolute.
I mount my horse, the leather creaking beneath me. Mika nods, standing beside her. “Safe travels,” he says, his words simple but weighted.
Cora’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, her gaze fixed on me. I force myself to look forward, to ride out into the dawn. Because I know, if I keep looking at her, I will never leave.
We ride hard and fast, the pounding of hooves echoing against the frozen earth.
The first outpost lies only half a day’s ride ahead, but already the distance between Cora and me stretches wider with every mile.
Each stride of my horse pulls me farther from her warmth, and the ache in my chest deepens, sharp and relentless.
Mika was right. I already love her. Ten days, barely more than a breath in the span of my life and yet it feels as though she has always been there, woven into me. Her smile, her stubbornness, the way her eyes soften when she looks at me, all of it has carved itself into my memory.
I should have told her before I left. Should have spoken the truth that burns inside me. But I was a coward. Afraid that she doesn’t feel the same, afraid that my words would burden her, afraid that if she turned away, I would shatter.
So I kept silent, kissing her as though it might be enough, holding her as though it might speak what I could not. Now, with the wind tearing at my cloak and the horizon pulling me farther from her, I know silence was a mistake.
The outpost waits ahead, but my heart lingers behind, in the candlelit chamber, in the warmth of her touch, in the promise of her eyes.
Cora POV
I stand at the edge of the courtyard, watching Garrion ride away, each stride of his horse pulling him farther from me, as though he carries my heart with him. The ache is sharp, but I force myself to remain still, my eyes fixed until he disappears from sight.
Mika lingers beside me, his presence steady.
“He’ll be back soon,” he says, attempting a smile.
“And when he is, he’ll annoy us all with his broodiness.”
His words are meant to lighten the mood, but they fall flat against the heaviness in my chest.
I manage a faint smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes.
Together, we turn and walk back toward the fortress. At the gates, Bira is already waiting, her posture straight, her head bowed respectfully. “My lady,” she greets.
“You’re here so early,” I say, surprised to see her at this hour.
“Soma sent word that you are in need of my services” she replies, her tone calm and assured.
I nod, grateful for Soma’s foresight, and lead her into the dining hall.
Over breakfast, I explain what I need, the coverings for the horses, the repairs for the stables.
Bira listens carefully, her confidence unwavering.
She assures me that with the help of other seamstresses in the city, enough fur coverings can be made to keep the horses warm through the winter.
She also mentions spare leather she has stored away, enough to patch the stable roof. Her son will deliver it to us today.
Relief settles over me like a fragile balm. Garrion may be gone, but here, in the fortress, life continues and I must see it tended.
Soma finds me in the kitchen, the table crowded with a big batch of candles I’ve already finished. Their waxy scent clings to the air, proof of my restless hands trying to keep busy.
“The leather has arrived for the stables,” she announces, her tone deliberately bright, as though cheer might soften the weight pressing on me. “Do you want to supervise Mika while he attempts to fix the roof himself?”
I glance up from the candles, arching a brow. “Has he ever done it before?”
“No,” she admits, her voice flat.
I let out a long sigh, already knowing the answer before she spoke. “Do you have anything other than dresses I can wear?”
Her eyes widen, and she stares at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “You’re not seriously thinking of getting on that roof yourself? Garrion will kill Mika and me if he finds out!” Panic sharpens her words, her hands fluttering as if she can physically ward off the thought.
I meet her gaze, unflinching, my voice blunt and steady. “He is not here. That means I’m in charge. So either you give me something suitable to wear, or I’ll climb onto that roof in this dress.”
“No, Cora,” Soma scolds, her voice sharp with alarm. “I will not let you do that.”
I know she means well, but I refuse to be coddled. “If Mika messes it up, I’ll do it myself,” I tell her firmly, leaving no room for argument.
By the time we reach the stables, Mika is already clambering across the roof, his boots scraping against the beams as he hauls a heavy roll of leather up by a rope. He looks far too pleased with himself, sweat streaking his brow, determination written across his face.
“You want to make sure you stretch the leather as tight as you can before nailing it in,” I call up to him, my voice carrying across the yard with the authority of command.
“Yes, my lady,” he answers, quick and obedient.
I narrow my eyes, glancing at Soma. “Is he mocking me?”
She hides a smile, her lips twitching as she shakes her head. “He wouldn’t dare,” she says, though her amusement betrays her.
I fold my arms, watching Mika work, the weight of responsibility pressing against me.
The sun dips low, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet as Mika sets down the last bundle of straw, layering it neatly over the leather stretched across the stable roof. He ties it down with practiced knots, making sure the wind won’t carry it away.
“See? I’m a man of trades,” he calls down lightly, pride lacing his voice.
I smirk, deciding to tease him. “You smell like a dog. Best clean yourself up before Soma kicks you out.”
He throws back his head and laughs, shaking off the insult as though it were a compliment, before striding away with his usual swagger.
Later, I find myself in the dining hall. The room hums with easy conversation, the clatter of cutlery, and the warmth of people at ease. Everyone seems so relaxed, so content. Everyone except me. I sit alone, the food before me tasteless, my thoughts heavy with absence.
When I finally retreat to our chambers, the emptiness of the space presses in on me. Without Garrion, the room feels hollow, stripped of its anchor. I sink onto the bed, pulling his pillow close, burying my face in it. His scent clings to the fabric, filling my lungs, stirring both comfort and pain.
The ache in my chest breaks loose, and I let the tears fall, silent and unrestrained, mourning the distance that has already begun to grow between us.
Sixteen days crawl by, each one agonizingly slow. Still, there has been no word from Garrion. I pray with every sunrise that he will return soon. Yet the silence stretches longer, and my heart grows heavier with each passing day.
The last few days I have remained in bed, weakened by my monthly bleed.
In the quiet hours, I cannot help but wonder, would Garrion feel relief that I am not with child?
Or would he grieve the absence of such a bond between us?
The thought twists inside me, leaving me uncertain of his heart, even as mine aches for him.
Beyond our chamber, life in the fortress continues.
The kitchen fireplace repair is nearly complete, its progress steady and reassuring.
Bira works tirelessly, her hands raw from sewing, as she and the seamstresses labor to finish enough fur coverings for the horses.
The city itself seems to hold its breath, waiting for the first bite of winter.
Every task, every preparation, carries the weight of survival.
And yet, beneath it all, I wait, for Garrion, for his return, for the moment when the ache in my chest will ease.
I pace near the entrance of the fortress, my eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting, hoping, desperate for even the smallest sign of Garrion returning to me.
The silence gnaws at me, so I turn toward the stables to check on Zeus.
I’ve only ridden him once since we arrived, but he is settling into his new life, his strength a quiet comfort.
The sound of hurried footsteps breaks the stillness. I turn, and a Soma rushes towards, me, her face pale, breath ragged. “Come quickly, Cora—Garrion’s been injured.”
My heart plummets. Without thought, I run beside her, the fortress looming ahead like a shadow.
When we reach our chambers, Garrion has already been carried to our room. The doctor is bent over him, hands steady, tools laid out. I rush to his side, my voice sharp with fear. “What happened?”
One of the soldiers, blood spattered across his armor, answers grimly. “We ran into a pack of wolves, my lady.”
My gaze falls on Garrion’s legs, deep gashes carved across his thighs, raw and brutal.
The sight steals my breath. I lean close, my hand trembling as I brush his hair back.
“Stay with me, Garrion,” I whisper fiercely into his ear, willing him to hear me, to hold on, as the doctor stitches his wounds closed with careful precision.