Talon carried me upstairs as if the weight of my exhaustion mattered more than the exhaustion tearing through his own body. His steps were slow and steady, careful on each stair, as though he feared even the wooden boards might take me from him now that the world had finally settled. His hands held me securely beneath my legs and shoulders, strong and warm and sure.
The packhouse was quiet. The hall lanterns glowed with soft golden light. Wolves moved in whispers behind closed doors, their voices muted as they spoke about the valley, the cracks, the mountain, the Heartline. None of them approached us. None of them disturbed the silence around us. They seemed to sense that this was not a moment to break.
My head rested against Talon’s shoulder. His scent wrapped around me in slow waves of
