Page 67

The fire's out. The kettle's cold. The air holds that hint of woodsmoke and pine and something else I can’t name.

It's not nerves. Not exactly. But it's close.

Lillian snores lightly from her bed in the corner, one arm flung over her favorite stuffed wyrm, the other twitching like she’s mid-battle with imaginary wolves in her sleep. I sit on the edge of my own cot, elbows on knees, fingers threaded together.

Today's the day.

I’ve built empires. Wielded contracts with a single glance. Led men into dangerous territories, rebuilt this camp from ash and memory. But none of it feels like it matters this morning. Not compared to what I’m about to do.

Because today I’m going to ask Julie Wren to marry me.

And that terrifies me more than any battlefield ever has.

Not because I doubt her, or us. But because when you’ve been broken once—and lost someone who mattered more thanbreathing—you start to believe some things aren’t meant for you anymore.

Then she showed up. With her color-coded binders, her city perfume and inappropriate footwear, and her soft hands that built more than a system—they built a home.

And now she’s leaving, unless I do something about it.

I spend the morning walking the camp. Not because I need to. Julie’s had things running smoother than I ever managed since she stepped up. No, I’m walking because I need to breathe. Because motion is easier than emotion. Because stillness leaves room for doubt.

Groth finds me outside the smithy. He doesn’t say anything at first, just hands me a mug of something hot and foul-smelling that I’m sure he brewed in a boot.

“You look like a man fixin’ to jump off a cliff,” he says.

I grunt. “Maybe I am.”

“You got the ring?”

I pat my pocket.

“She deserves to hear it, Torack. Not just feel it. Not guess it. Hear it.”

“I know.”

Groth nods once and walks off like his job’s done.

He’s not wrong. None of them are. I’ve been walking around with love for Julie buried under years of grief and discipline and pride. But she saw through all of that. She sawme.

And still chose to stay.

Until I gave her no reason to.

Now, I’m gonna fix that.

—

Lillian’s waiting when I get back to the cabin, already dressed, already beaming.

“You ready?” she asks like we’re about to take a hike instead of change all our lives.

“As I’ll ever be.”

She grabs my hand. “You remember what to say?”

I smirk. “I wrote it down.”

She groans. “No! Just speak from your heart!”