“Since I was fourteen.” I brace myself for his reaction. To my surprise, Cenric’s face remains calm, almost...pleased?
His fingertips brush against my skin, tracing a path from my wrist to my elbow. His fingers continue their journey, skimming along my upper arm and leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.
Warmth glints in his eyes as he tilts my face up and leans down, brushing his lips against mine. Soft at first, like a whisper. Then firmer, more insistent. My eyes flutter closed as I melt into him.
His hand slides to the nape of my neck as my hands find their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palms. It races as fast as mine.
All the pain and fear of the past few days disappears. There are no rebels. No threats. No impossible choices.
There’s just us, finally brave enough to acknowledge what’s been simmering between us for so long.
Cenric breaks the kiss first, pulling back enough for our eyes to meet. I frown, already missing the warmth of his lips.
He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “Later.”
“Why not now?” I whisper, unable to keep the longing from my voice.
Cenric’s eyes dart to the tent flap, then back to me. “I don’t want people walking in on us,” he says, his words making reality return—ourreality.
We’re not alone here. We’re in the middle of a camp full of warriors, any of whom could stumble upon us at any moment.
He grasps my waist, gently lifting me off his lap. My legs wobble as I settle into the chair beside him, hands gripping the edge of the seat to steady myself and calm my racing heart.
The tent flap rustles, and Luc bursts in, his chest heaving, as if he’s run across the entire camp. “I found them.”
Chapter
Fifty-Seven
CENRIC
Luc movesto sit next to Everly at the table. “The rebels are camped in the Whispering Pines, about half a day’s ride northeast of here.”
My jaw clenches. The Whispering Pines is a dense forest with natural defenses.
Everly adjusts the sleeves of her surcoat as she listens.
“Numbers?” I ask.
“I estimated that there are around two thousand,” Luc says.
Two thousand. Far more than I’d anticipated.
“Composition?”
“A mix.” Luc leans back in his chair and folds his arms as he adds, “Sympathizers, outsiders, and a significant number of Calcites. They’ve managed to rally a large force.”
I run a hand through my hair, processing this information. The presence of more Calcites complicates things further.
“What of their defenses?” I ask as I stare down at the map of Karra again.
Luc’s chair creaks as he leans forward and gestures to specific areas. “They’ve fortified the natural terrain well. Lookout posts in the tallest pines, barricades at key entry points.”
“And their supplies?”
“They seem well-stocked,” he says. “I spotted several supply caravans entering their camp. They’re prepared for a prolonged engagement.”
A frontal assault would be disastrous, but perhaps there’s another way. My gaze drifts to the map, tracing the contours of the land surrounding the Whispering Pines, while Everly fiddles with the wooden fox she carries.
