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“We were going to die,” Roen said. “The soldier said so.”

The remaining color drained from the man’s face. “The children were in front of us when we were moving toward the tunnel,” he whispered. “A group of Eprothans attacked, and we lost the children in the chaos. I didn’t know they hadn’t made it to the tunnel until the entrance had been barred behind us. I don’t know how to thank you.”

My throat clogged. This was one bright spot in an otherwise horrific night. “Knowing you’re all together is enough.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?”

I shook my head. “Just look after one another.”

The woman smiled at me, still clutching Celere to her. I watched them walk away, almost swaying on my feet.

Warm arms encircled me. I tensed, then instantly relaxed as Lorian’s scent wound toward me. Turning in his arms, I laid my head against his chest for a long moment.

And just like that, I could breathe freely again. The world fell back into place.

“You found me.”

“I’ll always find you. You’re so tired,” he murmured.

When I lifted my head, his lips met mine, hard and possessive. I was suddenly drunk on the taste of him. The feel of him. And at the same time, I felt as if I could focus once more.

Our kiss turned gentle. Tender. Lorian brushed his mouth against mine. Once. Twice.

“I was so worried about you,” I admitted.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, and he ran his hands up and down my back, as if still soaking in the feel of me.

“I just talked to Galon. You were the one truly in danger.”

“Rythos? Rekja? Thora?”

“All safe. Rekja suffered heavy losses. But we managed to convince him to leave. Thora was helpful there.” His gaze flickered, eyes turning feral.

And then, in a movement so fast my head spun, he shoved me behind him, his sword suddenly in his hand.

I pulled my own sword. Had iron guards found us? Were the Eprothans sneaking up on us even now?

A woman carrying a cup of water dropped it and stumbled backward with a yelp. Somewhere, a child burst into tears. One of Rekja’s guards palmed a dagger, searching the crowd for a threat.

I peered around Lorian. Nothing had changed. No soldiers had burst through the tree line. No arrows were ripping into our people.

There was no threat.

Silence rippled across the camp. Lorian’s face was corpse-white.

“Lorian,” I murmured quietly. “What is it?”

He sheathed his sword, but his hand remained on the hilt, knuckles whitening. When I stepped in front of him, his eyes were dazed, confused.

And then, they filled with wrath.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and his voice carried over the crowd. His gaze swept the camp, and suddenly, everyone decided they had something else they needed to do.

“Lorian—”

“I’m fine, Prisca.” His words were carefully neutral. He didn’t snap or snarl or sneer. But I flinched all the same.

Because he was lying to me.