The sun sank beneath the horizon, and with it, the last vestiges of light vanished from around Gall, Riasean, and Larah as they attempted to reach Landros before the invasion force from Cazidor. Overcast skies smothered the usually present moon, making the darkness around them thick as tar.

“We’d best stop for the night,” Riasean offered.

“We need to reach Landros,” Gall retorted.

“We are well ahead of our adversaries, and besides, we need to rest. Not all of us are free of the need for sleep like you are.”

Gall glanced at them and the darkened sky.

“I suppose you are right, we can spare a few hours to get rest before dawn.”

Larah ran a hand through her hair. “I am exhausted.”

Gall’s expression softened for just a moment as he watched her weary movements, then he dismounted and led his mount toward a small clearing. “We will stay here till dawn, then make our way to Landros.”

Riasean and Larah followed and dismounted as well. Gall unsaddled the horses, then scouted the area with methodical care.

Riasean found a space under an old oak tree and invited Larah to come and sit with him under it. She followed slowly, yawning steadily.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been this tired before,” she admitted, sliding down the tree trunk to nestle in a gap in the tree roots.

“The last few days have been… eventful,” Riasean observed, easing himself down next to her. “Particularly for you—from prisoner to liberator, human to cat and then back again, then through the Land of the Damned.”

Rubbing her eyes, Larah sighed. “Transfiguration is exhausting. I held it longer than I ever had before, but it’s like your muscles burning during a long climb while your mind juggles a dozen spinning plates. I was lucky to hold it as long as I could.”

“Well,” Riasean said with a smile. “I’m glad you did. You saved us.”

She looked up at him, a weary smile on her face. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

Their eyes locked. Larah’s pulse quickened and she drifted closer to Riasean. His blue eyes searched hers and he leaned closer, their noses touching ever so slightly. His hand gently stroked her cheek, the warmth of his touch spreading like honey through her veins. She pressed forward until their lips met, and something unfurled in her chest—part hunger, part homecoming.

Riasean pulled back, concern flickering across his features. “You okay?”

“Ah, yes,” Larah stammered. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “I’m just…” She wasn’t sure what to say. The whirlwind of emotions left her breathless and uncertain.

He put an index finger under her chin. “It’s okay, I’m confused too.” He smiled, then kissed the tip of her nose. A slight smirk crossed his features.

“What are you thinking?” she asked with suspicion.

“In the Tower of the Crescent Moon, you told me you loved me.”

Heat flooded her cheeks as the memory crashed over her—the taste of fear, the certainty she might lose him forever. “Yes, but I don’t know why I said that.”

Shock and amusement warred in Riasean’s expression. “So you don’t love me?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly, tilting her head. “I honestly don’t know what that was… I just knew I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He chuckled. “I’m not trying to corner you. I’m hardly an expert in matters of the heart.”

“Really,” she answered, giving him a skeptical look. “You don’t have a girl in every city you visit?”

His expression grew guarded. “I make it a point to avoid such… complications. My profession demands it.”

“Is that what I am?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “A complication?”

Something dark flickered behind his eyes—then his features softened. “We’re connected, Larah of Avalir, and for that I’m grateful.”

She studied his face, seeing the careful walls he maintained even in this moment of closeness. Whatever secrets he carried, she sensed they weighed on him. Still, she leaned up to press her lips against his. For several minutes, they kissed and pressed into each other, the exhaustion and stress of their situation melting away. She pulled back to catch her breath. “I think I love you.”

Lines creased around his eyes as he smiled, making him look both older and more vulnerable. “If having my heart is love, then you have it.”

The sound of approaching footsteps made them both turn. Gall reappeared, his expression carefully neutral, though his jaw was tight. “No one is in the area, but we dare not risk a watch fire.” He grabbed a couple of blankets, pausing for a heartbeat as he watched Larah’s flushed face and Riasean’s protective posture. Then he tossed one blanket to Riasean with perhaps more force than necessary. “Get some sleep. I’ll take watch since I don’t require any.”

He stood looking between the two, and Larah caught something almost uncertain in his weathered features—as if he was navigating unfamiliar territory.

“You,” he said, pointing at Riasean with authority, “will sleep over there.” He shifted his index finger to another tree.

Riasean and Larah exchanged slightly amused looks, but Larah held her father’s gaze for a moment longer—a quiet acknowledgment that she understood the game they were all playing, even if the rules were still being written.

Riasean struggled to his feet with a wry smile.

Gall tossed the other blanket to Larah, his voice gentling almost imperceptibly. “Get some rest. We leave by first light.”