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I wasn’t stupid enough to think myself indifferent to Arran. The feelings I had for him… they were complicated.

An understatement.

They were a nest of tangles and trauma that a thousand years might not be enough to untangle. Atop all of that lay the mating bond.

Too much for my fragile mind. Too much for my heart, which had only just been pieced back together, the cracks still all too real.

The physical need between us was easy. Overwhelming. Impossible not to give into.

But everything else…

Soon, I was too tired to even think about it.

We finally made camp in the shadow of the great gray, craggy mountains. Arran and Osheen selected a defensible spot. None of the rest of us were inclined to argue. By the time a fire was burning—lit with a quick flick of Lyrena’s fingers—we were done in.

Except Maisri, who still seemed to think this was all some grand adventure. It might also have been that she’d spent half of the journey atop Osheen’s shoulders.

She roasted up the two hares that Arran had caught while scouting ahead in his beast form and we all ate silently. Gratefully.

But we were far enough that we would be able rest without fear—at least, fear of the humans from Eldermist. We’d gone too far, too fast, for them to have followed. They’d need another day at least to catch up with us, their mortal bodies unable to cover the mountainous terrain without rest.

Lyrena rallied her magic and was making little animals out of flames, sending them dancing around the perimeter of the campfire—to Maisri’s endless delight. Her bright laughter was a balm to my soul after the days of endless travel and the brutal company of my own thoughts.

I was watching the fire creatures—now a skoupuma with a kitten trailing behind—when Osheen spoke below Maisri’s giggles.

“What help will Parys and Gwen send to the humans?”

Arran was back in his fae form, standing behind me. I’d felt his subtle shift. “Gwen will be inclined to kill them on sight.”

Cyara’s eyes flicked from the flames to the child on the other side of the campfire.

She kept her voice low. “Parys will be more judicious. He has been trying to find any mention of the darkness in the library. But when we’d left—"

“I told him to leave it alone.” Explicitly. Repeatedly. At meetings of the Round Table. Over flaky pastries. I’d told him that the human realm was not our concern.

Cyara shrugged, wings flicking out then back in a subtle movement. “He has never been a particularly good listener.”

“Ancestors. What is the point of being High Queen if no one listens to you?”

No answers. Not a single response.

Even Maisri and Lyrena looked up from their playing.

I shoved myself to my feet. “I am going to bed.”

No one answered that, either. So, I stomped off to the tents and figured my over-protective, disobedient flock of nanny goats would worry about setting a watch and cleaning up and all the other things they deemed I was unfit for.

* * *

When Arran came to the tent an hour later, I was still awake.

There’d been no question of separate sleeping arrangements. More tents meant more to carry. Everyone was sharing.

It had vaguely occurred to me after I’d gone to bed that I wasn’t sure who was going to join me for the night… my handmaiden or my mate.

But I recognized the heavy footfalls, even as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

Not to mention the pull of the bond in my chest, the way it instantly eased when Arran slipped through the tent flaps.