Chapter 7
Kaia
Golden light behind my eyelids.
Warm. Gentle. Pulling me toward consciousness.
I blink, and the world comes into focus slowly.
Clean sheets beneath me. Soft blankets tucked around my legs. The distant sound of voices—real voices, not shadows or magic or danger—drifting through an open window.
A cart wheel creaking. A dog barking. Someone laughing.
Normal sounds.
Safe sounds.
The room smells like soap and sunlight.
I’m not used to waking up without fear.
My body doesn’t know what to do with safety.
I try to orient myself. The room is small but well-kept. Simple wooden furniture. My pack sits folded in the corner, gear laid out like someone took care of it.
Took care of me.
Mouse is curled on my hip, warm and solid, purring softly in his sleep. When I shift, he lifts his head and nudges my cheek gently. He noses under my jaw like he’s checking for injuries.
Bob stands at the foot of the bed like a bouncer who takes his job way too seriously.
The newer shadows cluster around the edges of the room—watchful, protective, refusing to leave.
I try to sit up.
Pain lances through my chest. Sharp. Immediate.
I gasp, and the shadows rush in like I’m about to fall apart.
“Whoa—slow down.”
Torric’s voice cuts through the chaos, low and rough.
I turn my head.
He’s sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, slouched forward with his arms crossed, exhaustion written across every line of his face. His hair’s a mess. His shirt is half-burned at the edges, streaked with soot and river water.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
He’s been watching over me.
“You almost drowned,” he says quietly. “River nearly took both of us.”
I push myself upright anyway. Slowly. Stubbornly.
“I’m fine.”
Torric gives me The Look?—dry, disbelieving, fond in a way that makes my chest ache for reasons that have nothing to do with bruises.
“Sure,” he says. “And I’m a delicate snowflake.”
“You?” I manage. “You’d melt the entire mountain.”
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile.
“Dammit, Sunshine.” His voice softens. “It’s good to see your eyes.”
He pauses, jaw tight, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.
“But if you’re trying to die on me? Stop. It’s bad for my nerves.”
Something in my throat tightens.
Relief. Embarrassment. Guilt.
I scared him. Really scared him.
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know.” He leans back in the chair, exhaling slowly. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
I try to sort through what I remember.
Pieces. Fragments.
The creature charging.
Cold water. So much cold.
Strong arms grabbing me. Warmth cutting through the river’s grip.
Torric. That was Torric.
And something else. Something warm. Something that felt like home that shouldn’t have been there.
I can’t place it.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Small town. Allied village.” Torric gestures vaguely toward the window. “Part of Kieran’s network. These people owe him favors—respect him. They took us in without question.”
I glance around the room again. The care in how everything’s arranged. The clean linens. The sunlight. It feels like the sanctuary did, but warmer.
“They gave me this?”
“Gave us a whole safehouse, actually. Separate rooms. Food. Water. Privacy.” He shrugs. “Kieran’s built loyalty over the years. It shows.”
A soft knock interrupts before I can respond.
The door cracks open and Aspen walks in, holding a tray with broth, bread, and tea.
“Hey, Torric. Thought you could use—” He stops mid-sentence, eyes locking on me. “Holy shit. You’re awake.”
His voice doesn’t change—still controlled—but his face shows his surprise, and settles on relief.
“Nevermind, Torric. It’s for her.”
Torric sits up straighter, eyes widening in mock betrayal. “Excuse me?”
Aspen ignores him entirely and sets the tray on the table beside me.
“Betrayal,” Torric mutters, crossing his arms dramatically. “In my hour of need.”
I almost laugh. This time I manage not to wince.
Aspen’s mouth twitches—barely, but it’s there—as he straightens and meets my gaze.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sore. Weak. Alive.”
“That’s better than the alternative.”
His ice-blue eyes flick toward Torric—assessing him, not speaking.
“The others?” I ask.
“Malrik and Finn are talking to the village leaders,” Aspen says. “Making sure we’re clear to stay as long as we need.”
“Revna?”
“Returned to the sanctuary after she escorted us here. She’ll check in again soon.”
I nod slowly, processing. Then: “Darian?”
Torric’s jaw tightens. “Still bound. Quiet.”
There’s something in the way he says it. Something I’m missing.
But before I can ask, my memory flickers.
“The creature?”
“Dead,” Torric confirms. “Revna made sure of it.”
Relief washes through me, followed immediately by exhaustion.
Aspen watches me carefully. “You should eat. Rest.”
“I will.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Just nods once and steps toward the door.
“Aspen?”
He pauses, glancing back.
“Thank you.”
His expression softens—just a fraction. “Always,” he says, like it’s not a promise but a fact.
Then he’s gone, and it’s just me and Torric again.
I reach for the broth, hands shaking slightly. Torric doesn’t comment, just shifts closer like he’s ready to catch the bowl if I drop it.
I don’t drop it.
The warmth settles in my stomach, grounding me.
“What about—”
I stop.
A memory slams into me without warning.
The creature charging.
Kieran stepping in front of me.
The impact—bone against muscle, air punching from his lungs.
The sound of his body hitting the tree.
The crack.
The crack from the tree keeps echoing in my head.
My breath shudders.
“Kieran,” I whisper.
Torric’s face shifts. Subtle. But I see it.
“He’s alive,” he says carefully. “He’s… not great. He won’t admit how bad the hit was.”
My stomach drops.
“Where is he?”
“Kaia—”
“Where?”
Torric hesitates. “Next room. Resting. Or supposed to be.” He exhales. “He’s conscious. Just… don’t let him pretend he’s fine.”
I put the broth down and push the blankets off, ignoring the way my ribs protest.
“Kaia, wait—”
“I need to see him.”
Torric stands, blocking my path without actually blocking it. “You can barely stand.”
“I don’t care.”
Bob shifts position, edges softening like he’s debating whether to help me or stop me.
Mouse lifts his head, tail flicking once.
Torric studies my face for a long moment. Then he sighs.
“You’re going whether I help or not, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Stubborn.”
“You knew that already.”
He mutters something under his breath—probably a curse—then offers his arm.
I take it.
My legs shake. My ribs ache. My chest feels tight with something that has nothing to do with bruises.
But I move anyway.
Because Kieran saved me.
And I need to see him.