The carriage wheel is broken.

  I stare at the splintered wood and the deep grooves in the dirt where the wheel finally gave out. Everything I own is on that carriage—my dresses, my books, my life. A part of me wants to demand that we find a way to fix it now, but even I know that's impossible. We'll have to leave it behind.

  Finn sighs and grabs a shovel from the back. "I'll bury the trunk," he says, already digging a hole beneath the shade of a large oak. "It'll be safer this way."

  I swallow hard, watching as he drives the shovel into the earth. The rational part of me knows it's the best option, but that doesn't make it easier. My fingers tighten around the folds of my dress, and I force myself to nod. "Alright."

  "You can take what you can carry," Rael offers.

  But what could I possibly take? My dresses would be ruined in my arms, and my books—those are already safely tucked away. If I try to dig through them now, I'll only make this harder. So I shake my head. "No. This is fine."

  At least I have the two books Rael has lent me.

  Once the trunk is buried and the ground patted back into place, Finn wipes his brow and slings his pack over his shoulder. "Once we get to town, I'll buy a new wheel and fix this up. I'll meet you in Varethia."

  I force a smile. "Thank you."

  Rael pulls himself up onto his horse with effortless grace. Then, turning to me, he extends a gauntleted hand. "You're with me."

  I hesitate, eyeing the looming creature. "I've never ridden before."

  "You'll learn quickly."

  Still, I don't move.

  A sigh, then—softer this time—"Come on, princess." A verbal nudge, a twitch of his fingers. "I won't let you fall."

  There's nothing mocking in his tone, no challenge—only quiet reassurance.

  A promise.

  Slowly, I place my hand in his.

  He pulls me up as if I weigh nothing, settling me in front of him. The moment I'm against him, I stiffen. His arms cage me in, strong and solid, one hand gripping the reins while the other braces lightly at my waist. The cold of his armor seeps through the back of my dress, sharp against the warmth radiating from his body.

  I sit rigid, my hands hovering uselessly at my sides.

  "Relax," he murmurs, his voice a low reverberation against my spine.

  "What am I supposed to hold onto?"

  His lips brush close to my ear as he leans in. "Me."

  The word barely has time to register before the horse moves beneath us. I gasp, instinctively gripping the nearest thing—his forearm. His chuckle is deep, vibrating against my back.

  Without warning, metal-clad fingers cover mine, guiding my hands to the reins. "Hold here. And—" he adjusts slightly, his chin brushing my shoulder, "lean with the horse, not against it."

  I nod stiffly, my heart hammering. Every movement feels exaggerated, every small shift making me hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between us.

  The horse moves again, and as I adjust, my dress rides up, baring my knees to the cool air. I barely register it before a heavy weight settles over my lap—Rael's cloak, warm and weighted.

  "Can't have you scandalizing the good people of Elyndria," His smirk is audible.

  I scowl, grateful he can't see my warming cheeks. "You're enjoying this."

  His fingers tighten briefly over mine. "Maybe a little."

  We fall into a steady rhythm, and slowly, I begin to understand the movement—the give and take between the horse and rider. The tension in my shoulders loosens, but the awareness of Rael doesn't fade. The steady rise and fall of his breathing. The way his grip lingers against mine, firm yet careful.

  I turn my focus to the land changing as we continue—the air growing brisk, the trees sparser--and hours later, when we finally crest a hill, a riverside town sprawls before us, set against the winding current of the Great River.

  I sigh, tension momentarily forgotten. "We made it."

  Rael hums behind me, the sound deep and approving. "That we did."

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  We pass beneath the wooden archway marking the town's entrance, the sounds of metal striking metal and the scent of burning coal greeting us. This place is nothing like Briarholt. It's larger, splaying outward in all directions, with buildings of timber and stone pressed close together. Unlike Briarholt, where merchant carts lined the roads, here, the shops are permanent structures—open-fronted blacksmiths, butchers, and tanneries displaying their products beneath awnings.

  I pull Rael's cloak tighter around my shoulders, watching as soldiers move between the shops, their armor reflecting the fading light. My brother once spoke of this place. Coldspar—where weapons are forged and sold to those who guard the border. A town created to supply steel and sustenance to those who live by the sword.

  We weave through the streets, heading deeper into the town's heart. The sound of rushing water grows louder, guiding us toward the river. But before we reach it, something catches my eye—a long sword displayed outside one of the forges. Its hilt is wrapped in deep blue leather, its pommel inlaid with a silver crescent moon.

  "You have a good eye," the blacksmith says, stepping forward. He's a burly man with soot-streaked arms, his apron singed at the edges. "That blade's waiting for a master. Buy it, and you'll get to name it."

  I glance at Rael, then his sword. "Does yours have a name?"

  His gaze flicks to the weapon at his side, then back to me. "A blade doesn't need a name. It only needs a purpose."

  The blacksmith chuckles. "A soldier's answer."

  I run my fingers lightly over the hilt, considering. The idea of naming a sword is oddly intimate, as if forging a bond with something meant to take lives. My hand lingers for a moment before I let it drop.

  "Not today."

  A few shops down, another display grabs my attention—small metal trinkets laid out on a dark cloth. An abundance of small charms shaped into animals lie before me, one in particular catching my eye—a wolf's head, no larger than a silver coin.

  "The wolf is a beautiful creature," the merchant says as she follows my gaze. "But its beauty is only seen by those who do not fear it."

  I swallow, fingers hovering over the charm. Rael stands just ahead, eyes scanning the path as he waits for me to catch up.

  I look at him, then back at the wolf.

  Before I can think too much about it, I slip a silver onto the table and tuck the charm into my pocket before rejoining him.

  We walk in silence for a while, the steady clop of hooves filling the space between us. Then, Rael speaks, his voice cutting through the void. "This sword has belonged to every King's Blade before me," he pauses, as though debating if he should share further. "Soulcleaver it's called--a weapon meant to end both men and demons alike."

  The memory of the ambush flickers through my mind—blood slicked talons catching moonlight.

  I study his face. "Then why use your claws?"

  "Fear," he answers simply. "Humans are easier to kill when they're afraid."

  I swallow, my gaze drifting to the horizon bleeding pink and orange. "I was afraid of you," I admit softly. "After seeing—" The words catch in my throat, tangled in the memory. "I thought you were a monster."

  He shrugs. "I am."

  "You're not." The conviction in my voice surprises even me. His expression darkens, but I push on. "You were brave... you protected me." My fingers toy with the charm in my pocket. "I was afraid then—but not anymore."

  His grip tightens on the reins, his fingers flexing as if to ground himself.

  After a long pause, he murmurs, "Bravery is just fear with its back straight."

  I glance at him from the corner of my eye. "You don't seem afraid of anything."

  His lips twitch. "You'd be surprised."

  A heartbeat passes. The world moves around us—the clang of metal, the distant rush of water—but for a fleeting moment, it feels like we exist outside of it, suspended in the space between words left unsaid.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The docks are quiet, the occasional creak of wood settling under the weight of the night. The only movement comes from the gentle lap of water against the piers and the distant sway of a lantern hanging from a post.

  I stay back with the horse as Rael speaks with the dockworkers. I cast a few glances at the beast, quickly looking away when I find it already staring at me. My fingers anxiously thrum on the leather strap as Rael approaches. "We're not leaving tonight, the only boat that can carry a horse won't be back until dawn."

  "Wonderful." A sarcastic play at the truth.

  Rael watches me for a beat, then glances toward the road leading away from the docks. "There's an inn down that way."

  I nod, but my attention lingers on him—not his words, but the way he reaches up to run his hand down the horse's face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. The sight catches me off guard.

  "What?" he asks, tilting his head slightly as he spots me staring.

  "Nothing." But it isn't nothing.

  The demon I first met was sharp edges and cold precision. A warrior bred for war. But this? This moment? It's softer. A glimpse of something beneath the armor and claws.

  Something I shouldn't be observing so closely.

  I tear my gaze away first, clearing my throat. "Let's go."

  Rael falls into step beside me as we weave through the evening crowd, the hum of the town wrapping around us. Lanterns flicker to life, their golden glow casting long shadows as we approach the inn—a modest, weathered building with ivy curling along its beams.

  "Tell me," he muses, voice laced with dry amusement. "Does another distant relative of yours live here as well... just in case?"

  "No." I sigh, coming to a stop. "Stay here."

  "What—"

  "I have a better chance of getting a room if you're not looming behind me looking like you just walked out of a nightmare."

  His lips twitch, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight, but he only inclines his head, gesturing for me to go on.

  To my surprise, he stays outside.

  Inside, the inn is warm and dimly lit, a fire crackling low in the hearth. The woman behind the counter wipes her hands on her apron, studying me with a gaze that lingers a second too long.

  "A room for the night?" I ask, offering a small, practiced smile as I set two silvers before her.

  Her eyes never leave mine as she reaches for a key and slides it across the counter. "Second floor, last room on the right."

  I take it with a nod and walk back outside, holding the key behind my back as I approach Rael.

  "Well?" he asks.

  "Success!" I raise the key to his face, jingling it triumphantly.

  His brows lift. "Impressive."

  "It's amazing what you can accomplish when you don't look like you bite."

  "Pity." He hums in mock disappointment. "That's part of my charm."

  "You'll have to find another way to unnerve the locals."

  He shakes his head, a quiet, genuine laugh escaping him. It's brief, almost reluctant, but real.

  I freeze, eyes widening.

  Rael... laughing.

  That's twice today.

  He meets my stare, his features hardening. "What?"

  I study the key in my palm. "Just... surprised that you're capable of something other than brooding." I bite back my smile.

  "Don't get used to it." His words are flat, but I spot his smirk as he ties off the horse.

  "I won't," I state, my grin betraying my lie.