Chapter 20
A knock sounded loudly on the door.
Reis ignored it.
He sat against the headboard with one arm draped over Mirielle protectively.
She was curled against his side beneath heavy blankets, breathing softly and deeply.
Her dark hair spilled across the sheets and over part of her face, shielding her eyes from the soft morning light filtering through the frozen windows.
Another bang rattled the door.
Mirielle stirred faintly beside him.
“Reis!” Kellan shouted through the wood. “If you don’t answer this door, I’m setting Dane loose on you.”
Reis closed his eyes briefly. Of course it was Kellan. Irritation crawled through him.
Mirielle shifted again with a small sleepy sound and immediately Reis’s hand moved through her hair, soothing her before she fully woke.
Only once she settled did he finally move. Reis muttered a curse beneath his breath before carefully disentangling himself from the bed. He pulled his trousers on and crossed the room quietly before opening the door.
Kellan stood there with his hands shoved into his pockets.
The moment he saw Reis, his expression soured. “You look insane.” Kellan saw his disheveled black hair, the exhaustion hollowing his face, the scratches across his throat and chest. It was the unmistakable look of a man who had not willingly left that room in days.
“What do you want, Kellan?”
“Five days, Reis.”
“And?”
“And none of us have seen Mirielle.”
“She’s sleeping.”
Kellan tried to glance over his shoulder. Reis shifted instantly, blocking the doorway entirely. The movement was subtle. The threat beneath it was not.
Kellan’s eyebrow rose. “You’re guarding her."
Reis said nothing.
“From me.” A shadow passed over Kellan's face.
“She’s sleeping,” Reis repeated flatly.
Kellan studied him for a long moment before his voice lowered. “Reis, is she alright?”
Reis’s jaw tightened. Behind him, the room remained warm and dim. Firelight crackled softly in the hearth. Mirielle still lay curled beneath thick blankets, utterly unconscious.
Exhausted.
His fault.
Kellan caught the flicker in his expression and something troubled passed across his face. “I want to see her,” Kellan said firmly.
“She’s exhausted,” Reis admitted at last.
Kellan sighed wearily. “If you don’t let me see her, Marta is going to organize a rescue party.”
“That would be unwise.”
“I agree,” Kellan muttered. “Dane is already sharpening things.”
Silence stretched between them. Then Kellan’s expression softened into something more serious. “Reis, you need to let her breathe.”
Something unreadable flickered across Reis’s face.
“And we need to leave soon. She isn’t safe here.”
That struck cleanly through Reis’s irritation. His expression shifted immediately and fear crossed his face.
Kellan noticed and took advantage. “Let me see her,” he repeated and this time there was threat beneath the words.
Reis stared at him another long moment. Then he finally stepped aside.
Kellan entered quietly, arms crossed loosely over his chest. The room smelled faintly of smoke, pinewood and sleep.
His gaze settled on the bed. Mirielle lay curled beneath the blankets, dark hair scattered wildly across the pillows.
Now that her illness had passed, her face looked somehow softer in sleep, which Kellan didn't even think possible until now.
One of her hands remained loosely curled in the wool blanket.
Kellan's shoulders loosened in relief. She looked peaceful, safe, not frightened or restrained, just deeply exhausted.
Kellan glanced back at Reis. He looked like a man awaiting judgement. The man looked strung taut with exhaustion and something dangerously close to fear.
And suddenly Kellan understood. Reis wasn’t guarding Mirielle from them. He was guarding her from himself.
Kellan looked between Mirielle and Reis one last time before exhaling quietly through his nose. “Well,” he muttered, “this situation is profoundly unhealthy.”
Reis ignored him. His gaze had already drifted back toward Mirielle.
“Start packing.”
Kellan blinked.
“We leave before nightfall.”
That wiped the amusement from Kellan’s face. "You think Myrkur knows?"
“I think five days was too long.”
Kellan studied him for a moment, then nodded once.
“I’ll buy supplies. We should avoid the southern roads if we can—”
Behind them the blankets rustled softly and both men went still.
Mirielle shifted slowly in the bed, caught somewhere between sleep and waking.
"Reis?”
The change in him was immediate. The cold sharpness vanished from his posture entirely as he crossed the room.
“I’m here."
Mirielle relaxed the instant his hand touched hers.
Still half asleep, she curled weakly toward him as he sat carefully on the edge of the bed.
Kellan watched the interaction in stunned silence.
Reis brushed tangled hair gently back from her face. The gesture was far too careful for a man clearly built for war.
"We’re leaving soon," he told her softly.
Mirielle blinked slowly up at him, silver eyes still hazy with exhaustion. "Alright.”
That was trust in her voice. Kellan felt something strange swell in his chest at the sight of it. Something like pride.
Then Mirielle’s eyes drifted toward him. Then they went wide.
Kellan lifted one hand awkwardly. “Good morning,” he said quietly with a pleasant smile.
Mirielle looked between the two men before sinking deeper beneath the blankets with a tiny sound of embarrassment. Reis pulled the wool higher around her shoulders to shield her.
Kellan watched for a moment with a somber expression before turning for the door.
*
Reis wanted to get some travel in before nightfall. The roads were dangerous after dark. Snows were likely coming, but Kellan was right—they needed to get out of Drumhaven. Too many people had seen them and word could spread quickly.
He had let Mirielle sleep while Kellan and Dane packed before heading downstairs. After he had made sure she had eaten, he went to the yard to check the horses.
Reis looked at the packs like they insulted him personally. He pulled the strap on Maisey's back, loosening the pack only for absolute chaos to spill out of it.
"Kellan," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What?"
"Why are there pans on top of medical supplies?"
"So they would be easier to reach."
"That makes no sense."
"It makes emotional sense."
"You packed three casks of wine."
"I like wine."
"You packed like a noblewoman fleeing a ball," Dane muttered.
Kellan tightened the girth on his chestnut mare. The horse, a fuzzy fiery chestnut with a white blaze down her nose, flattened her ears and jerked sideways.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic. You've survived worse."
The mare snapped at his sleeve.
Dane snorted quietly from nearby while checking his own mare's feet and tack.
Unlike Kellan, Dane had packed with brutal efficiency. Bedroll. Food. Weapons. Extra blankets. Done.
Mirielle stood next to Maisey, wrapped in dark blue wool, looking much better than she did that morning and watching the scene with mild amusement.
Lettie stood next to her, wearing a beautiful light blue riding set and looking deeply uncomfortable in her own skin. Kellan knew why but decided not to rehash an old argument. She was warm. That was enough for now.
Kellan finally climbed into the saddle with practiced ease despite the mare immediately dancing sideways beneath him.
“There she is,” he said proudly as the horse tossed her head. "My violent little princess.”
The mare tried to bite his boot.
Lettie looked horrified when Kellan leaned down and offered his hand. “You are not putting me on that horse.”
“She likes you.”
“She tried to kill you twice this morning.”
Kellan shrugged. “She was flirting.”
Reis helped Mirielle into Hank's saddle before climbing in behind her. The black horse shifted under their combined weight. She settled instinctively into Reis's chest as he wrapped his massive black cloak around both of them.
"We're leaving." There was enough power in his voice that nobody dared argue.
Muttering under her breath, Lettie finally accepted Kellan's hand.
She put a boot in the stirrup and he pulled her up to her seat in front of him.
As soon as she was in the saddle, the mare sharply sidestepped, making Kellan tighten his hold on her waist. "Oh, she likes you very much," Kellan said, sounding unbearably smug.
Lettie rolled her eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into her skull.
Then the company finally turned toward Rosthein.
*
The gates of Drumhaven disappeared slowly behind them beneath falling snow. The road ahead stretched white and endless through the southern plains of Kaldyr.
Reis rode at the front upon Hank, Mirielle seated securely before him wrapped in heavy furs and cloaks. One gloved hand rested around her waist while the other held the reins loosely. The enormous horse moved steadily beneath them, steam curling from its nostrils into the cold evening air.
Dane followed next atop a beautiful dark gray mare named Winter with remarkably sweet eyes pulling Maisey laden with their tent and packs.
Then came Kellan and absolute chaos.
His massive chestnut mare danced sideways across the snowy trail with restless energy, ears flicking constantly as though she found walking straight personally offensive.
Kellan looked entirely unbothered. “You’re showing off because there’s an audience,” he informed the horse casually.
The mare tossed her head proudly.
“You named her Tempest,” Dane said dryly. “You encouraged this behavior.”
“She came named,” Kellan lied.
“You renamed her from Daisy.”
“Because she bit three stable boys. She practically chose it herself.”
The mare snorted loudly as if very contented by the memory.
Ahead of them, Mirielle looked back over Reis's shoulder, visibly smiling.
Tempest suddenly surged forward several paces before Kellan effortlessly guided her back with practiced ease. Not a hint of alarm crossed his face.
“You ride her like ye've known her yer whole life,” Lettie observed.
“I practically have,” Kellan replied. “Tempest and I share a spiritual bond rooted in poor decision-making.”
The mare immediately tried to nip Dane’s boot as they passed.
"Oy!” Dane yelled.
“She’s protective.”
“She’s violent.”
“She has instincts.”
Tempest tossed her mane very dramatically.
Maisey plodded patiently behind Winter through the snow beneath towering stacks of supplies and blankets. She moved with the weary dignity of a creature who had accepted that the humans around her were all idiots.
Reis also looked deeply unimpressed with everything happening behind him. Hank was transfixed on the road ahead. Mirielle, however, laughed softly.
Reis glanced down at her. He had let her sleep most of the day after Kellan's intrusion.
She had color in her cheeks, her eyes were shining, her ribs completely healed.
It was the best she had looked since he had taken her from Ambersaith.
She looked alive and hale. Relief seemed to live in his chest.
He looked ahead. The farther west they rode, the more dangerous the land became. Since Lorik's Pass was filled, they needed to go around Malvek to King's Pass, a secret route known only by his closest allies.
Snow blanketed the ground in untouched white. Heavy gray clouds gathered low overhead, swollen with an approaching storm. The wind had changed an hour ago. He could smell it in the air—there would be snow tonight, a hard one. He wanted to make it to Thornveil Forest before it came.
The ancient forest loomed somewhere beyond the next rise, tall pines thick enough to shield them from the worst of the mountain winds, still dangerous territory, but better than freezing in the open.
Mirielle shifted closer to his chest, burrowing into his warmth.
Reis stilled.
Then he reached down and wrapped his heavy cloak more tightly around her against the cold.