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"And then she waited until they were well into the woods before she absolutely lost her fucking mind." Elias laughs, deep and unrepentant. "Flipped completely. Took off full speed, nearly threw him into a ravine, then made a beeline straight for the nearest river."
I make a choked sound, pressing my forehead harder against his shoulder. "No."
"Yes." He’s delighted. "And to make it worse, Widowmaker stopped right before she got to the water and just launched him. Straight in. No hesitation. Like she’d been waiting for that moment her whole life."
I can’t stop laughing, weak as it is. "Oh my gods."
"Best part?" Elias says, still grinning. "She just left him there. Went trotting back like nothing happened. He had to walk the whole way back. Soaked. Furious. Genuinely contemplating murder."
I shake my head. "I can’t believe you two lived to tell that story."
"We didn’t." Elias sighs, overly dramatic. "I’m a ghost now, Luna. A tragic, beautiful specter, haunting the world with my unfinished business."
"What business?"
"Mostly pissing off Caspian."
I close my eyes, letting myself sink against him, warmth creeping into my exhaustion.
Elias hasn’t said anything cringeworthy in an hour.
It might be a record.
Or maybe I’m too exhausted to notice.
Either way, I don’t mind him right now. Which is saying something.
I should be thinking about the creatures we fought. The way the Rift bent around us like it was alive, like it was reacting to me. I should be planning, calculating what Severin’s next move will be now that he knows we’re here.
But I’m not.
I’m here.
Pressed against Elias, tucked against him like I belong there, my body too heavy to move, his arms keeping me upright with a kind of effortless ease, like I weigh nothing, like holding me is natural.
Like he doesn’t notice.
Which is rare for him.
Normally, he’d be running his mouth. Some awful line, some ridiculous attempt at flirting that’s less ‘charming rogue’ and more ‘local disaster.’ But he’s quiet now, his body loose in the saddle, one hand holding the reins, the other firm around my waist, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of my coat like he forgot he was touching me at all.
And maybe that’s why I don’t move away.
Because for once, it’s easy.
Easy to sit here, easy to listen to his voice, easy to let the exhaustion settle into my bones without trying to shake it off.
Elias is easy.
Not like Silas.
Silas is comfortable. Elias is… something else. A weight I don’t mind bearing, a presence that makes everything feel less heavy when it should be suffocating.
I shift slightly, pressing my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of leather and something distinctly his, something warm and sharp at the same time.
Still, nothing.
No comment. No smug remark.