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Roan shifts, rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re sure though?” she asks, voice lower now, rougher. “I mean, last time, you—”

“Iwassure last time,” I cut in, raising my chin. “You were the one who insisted on the chair.”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard, before her smirk returns, sharper this time. “So youwantedto share a bed with me last night?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

I open my mouth, then snap it shut when I catch the innkeeper’s wary expression—eyes flicking between us like she’s caught in the middle of something private. She scratches at the back of her neck, and I swear I can see the moment she regrets every life decision that led to this moment.

My cheeks flare with heat.

Wait. Is this… improper?

I mean, we’re nottechnically—but still, the thought latches on and twists low in my stomach. Roan’s lips. Her hands on my waist. The way we practically spent the entire night breathing each other in.

The way I want to do it again.

And again.

Does that make it proper though? Just because I want to do it?

I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “It’s not improper.”

Her lips twitch, clearly enjoying this more than she should. “That wasn’t exactly my concern, Mouse.”

The innkeeper clears her throat, looking from me to Roan, then back again. “So… one bed, then?”

“Yes,” I say quickly.

Roan exhales through her nose, shaking her head, but I catch the ghost of a smile before she mutters, “One bed’s fine.”

“Right,” the innkeeper says, dragging a key off its hook and setting it on the counter with a solidclunk. “Up the stairs, second door on the left. Breakfast is at dawn. Enjoy your… stay.”

The pause doesnotgo unnoticed. I bite the inside of my cheek as I take the key, murmuring a quick thanks before turning on my heel and heading for the stairs.

Her gaze lingers, and I suddenly realize how we must look—standing too close, voices lower than necessary, the air between us crackling with something too tangible to ignore. I bite my lip, grab the key, and turn on my heel before she can add anything else.

Roan follows me up the stairs, her breath warm at my ear as she murmurs, “Not improper, huh?”

I elbow her lightly in the ribs. “Shush.”

By the time we reach the top landing, my cheeks are warm, and I can’t tell if it’s from the day’s heat or Roan’s proximity. Probably a bit of both.

The room is nothing fancy—just wide enough for a single bed, a small washbasin, and a wooden chair by the window. A worn rug covers the floor, and everything smells faintly of old timber and salt. I can practically feel Roan’s cautious gaze sweep the corners, checking for any sign of danger.

“Clear?” I tease, a small grin quirking at my lips.

She snorts, kicking the door shut behind us. “Yeah, clear,” she says. “Just the occasional monster under the bed, maybe.”

“Oh,” I murmur, leaning closer, “I’m the only monster allowed around here.”

Her eyes flick to mine, amusement sparking there. “Right. My mistake.”

My heart thuds. The wordmonsterdoesn’t sting the way it once might. Not with her.

I toss my cloak onto the chair, trying to ignore the slight tremor in my hands. Roan sets her sword carefully against the foot of the bed, then shrugs off her jacket. Her posture is relaxed, nonchalant, but I sense the undercurrent of readiness—like she expects me to bolt still.