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“What’s happening?” My voice is hoarse from exhaustion.

He glances back at me. For a flicker of a second, the merest heartbeat, relief crosses his features. It’s gone in an instant,replaced again with a knowing smile. “Not really the woodsy type, are you? More of a farmer than a hunter.”

“You could say that. Where are we?”

“In one of my hunting lodges.”

I take a deep breath, my lungs clearer now. I find myself inching closer to Talan until the heat of the fire radiates over every inch of me. My clothes steam, and tiny tendrils of vapor rise into the air. I stretch my fingers closer to the fire, and our shoulders brush. His masculine scent wraps around me, warm and entrancing like the firelight.

“What happened to the basilisk?” I ask.

“The arrows slowed him, even if they didn’t kill him. But we may not have long until he returns. It’s probably best if you let me handle him on my own, Nia. I’m afraid you’re a slight liability.”

“Liability?”

He turns and looks deeply into my eyes. He’s studying me like I’m an ancient text he’s trying to translate. Firelight dances over his perfect features, painting him in a shifting light and shadow.

“Your lungs make a noise when you breathe,” he says. “You have some kind of sickness.”

I swallow hard. Usually in Brocéliande, my asthma doesn’t bother me this much, but the combination of running and freezing air set it off.

“Sometimes, it’s hard for me to breathe. Not everyone is born perfect, Talan.” I frown, wrapping my arms around my knees. “So, is this your idea of a honeymoon?”

Heat flickers in the depths of eyes. “Nia, if this were my idea of a honeymoon, you’d be too busy screaming my name to ask me that question.”

“Very confident of you.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “I don’t need to see into your dreams to know what you want.”

You, dead?“Really, Talan? What do I want?” Under his smoldering gaze, my body grows warmer. My damp clothes cling to me, and the fabric feels suddenly oppressive around my skin.

He leans closer. “You want to be taken care of.”

Before I can reply, a terrible roar rattles the cottage windows, cutting our conversation short. My heart stutters, and I tense. The basilisk is closing in.

Talan rises and peers out the window, his demeanor shifting in an instant. “Time for you to go, Nia.”

“Can it get inside?” I ask.

Talan crosses the room to the large wooden chest and flings it open. “It can tear this place to pieces, but I’m not inclined to cower here and wait for that to happen.” He hefts a broadsword from the chest. “And I do love a challenge.” Drawing the blade from the sheath, he inspects it. Steel catches in the firelight.

“You can’t possibly kill that thing.” Panic rises in my chest, and once more, I’m left wondering why I’m trying to protect my enemy. “Its scales are impenetrable.”

“I just need to buy you some time.” He quirks his eyebrow at me. “Wait two minutes, then slip out the window in the back and run as fast as you can. Try not to fall into a river or trip over your own feet. I’d rather not have to save you repeatedly.”

I stare at him. “You want me to leave you alone with the basilisk?”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “You see? I haven’t even touched you yet, and already, you know you’ll miss me.”

Before I can reply, he walks over to the fireplace, one hand holding the sword. With his free hand, he grabs a large, thick stick protruding from the flames. He raises it and inspects the burning end—a makeshift torch. “Go on, Nia. I’ve killed larger creatures.”

He crosses to the door, kicks it open, and steps out into the frozen night.

I rush to the window,peering into the stillness beyond.

The sky is a bruised purple, yielding to the honeyed glow of dawn. In the snow outside, the basilisk stands tall, a silhouette in the faint morning light. The creature’s dark, scaled tail lashes the snow, and the basilisk spreads its wings and rears back its head.

As Talan takes a step closer to the basilisk, a sharp tendril of fear curls through my chest. The wind toys with his hair and the dancing flame of his torch. Standing before the creature, he swings the torch back and forth. Slowly, Talan takes a step closer, keeping his head down to avoid its gaze. The monster’s head follows the flames, its dark scales glinting in the torchlight.