“And you?” he asked. “What did you dream of?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe I dreamed of this. A quiet night. Warm food. A male who looks at me like I matter.”
His brow furrowed. “You’ve always mattered.”
“I believe you,” I said softly. “Even if I don’t remember why.”
We fell quiet again, the fire crackling gently beside us. Then Mallack leaned back slightly and reached for the tea, pouring it into two small ceramic cups. He handed one to me, his fingers brushed mine, and the contact sparked a wave of emotion I wasn’t ready for. Not lust. Not even longing. Just… connection. The kind that formed when words didn’t have to do the work.
He looked at me like I was more than what had returned. And gods help me, I was starting to believe it too.
“You’re good at this,” I said.
He raised a brow. “At what?”
“At making me feel safe.”
He chuckled depreciatively. “I failed you once. I won’t do it again.”
“You didn’t fail me.”
He didn’t argue. Just looked at me like he would spend the rest of his life trying to make that true. Later that night, he made himself a bed by the fire, indicating for me to take the bed, which I did. But it was a large and lonely bed, and sometime during the night, I found myself nestled next to him on the ground, by the fire. I didn't know how I got there, if he'd carried me or if I’d come over on my own, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was his strong arms around me and the feel of his chest against my back, rising and falling. The immense love that emanated from him; it was impossible not to feel something for him in return.
I didn't remember the Daphne from before or what she had felt for him, but if what was blooming inside of me was any indication, it had to have been powerful.
It started with the sound of water falling from a distant waterfall, spilling over stone rocks. I didn’t know where I was, but I wasn’t afraid.
The air was warm and filled with the sweet scent of fresh korrith fruit. It was somewhere between dusk and the first rise of moonlight. Frillflies drifted lazily in a sky colored with deep blue and violet, and a gentle wind stirred the long grasses around me. I was barefoot, standing in a field that glowed faintly.
I wasn't alone; he was with me. Mallack. Not in armor. Not bloodied or battle-hardened. Just him. He looked at me like I was the only reason the universe had ever spun as he sidled up beside me, as quietly as always. He stood close enough that our shoulders nearly brushed. His shirt hung loose over his large frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms marked by faint scars, silent witnesses to battles long past. The kind of scars that told stories without a single word. An unexpected flutter stirred in my chest, deep and insistent. I glanced at him, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away.
How had I missed it before?
The curve of his jaw. The way the fading light caught the flecks of gold buried deep in his obsidian eyes. The way he looked at the world, like he had watched it break and still chose to believe it could be mended.
We’d grown closer over the last few days, and not just in words or glances. It was in the quiet things. The way he showed upevery evening without being asked. The way he brought dinner not just for me, but for my mother, remembering what she liked and listening to her talk about things he couldn't possibly be interested in. Still, he laughed with her, gently. Patiently. And she, who had every reason to distrust a vissigroth, was beginning to look at him with something dangerously close to affection.
She was starting to love him like a son.
And now—watching him, feeling the quiet ache in my heart build—I could see why. His gaze met mine, and something unspoken passed between us. It wasn't heat or lust, though that was there too. Ney, this was something quieter, deeper.
Our eyes locked, like they had been doing more and more lately, and my breath caught. I forced a smile to cover the quake in my ribs.
“Are you alright?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure whatalrighteven meant anymore. “Zyn. Just... thinking.”
“About?”
I hesitated. My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn't know what to say. Or how to say it. I pulled my courage together and admitted, “Things I haven’t felt before.”
His gaze didn’t flinch. “Good things?”
I nodded. “Scary ones, too.”
A soft wind stirred the grass around us, brushing it against my bare ankles like a whisper. A frillfly floated by, its wingsglowing softly, illuminating the edge of his silhouette like starlight.
Gathering more courage, I elaborated, “I’ve never known someone like you.”
