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Her tapered ears poked out from between the silky strands of her hair, reminding him of what she was. Though she appeared to be around his age—her youth still vibrant in her features—there was something about the way she carried herself. She was ethereal in her beauty— it left Hakon speechless.

But her eyes… Her eyes held a wisdom— a clarity— that women his age did not possess. A sadness that could not be replicated by anything other than a great trauma or loss that haunted her still. A reflection of how Hakon felt every day since Eydis joined the gods .

"I was just going to return to Maude," Herrick replied as Hakon was still lost for words as he really looked at Dahlia for the first time. "We all have a long day tomorrow."

His brother's nerves betrayed him when he spoke.

Tomorrow, the Grand Soothsayer and Dahlia would remove the band from his neck and free him fully.

But Hakon could see in his brother's eyes that he was weary of what would follow, the unknown repercussions of removing such a vile piece of galder from his body.

As if she had heard the track his mind had taken, Dahlia gently said, "All will be well tomorrow, General. Soon, you will be reconnected with your galder , and your strength will be yours to command again."

His brother watched her for a moment before nodding once. "Call me Herrick."

"Okay, Herrick," Dahlia replied, her smile widening enough that her straight teeth shone in the darkness. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Herrick nodded to her and then turned back to Hakon. "Find your rest, brother."

Before he could respond, Herrick disappeared behind the flap of thick fabric that separated the two spaces, leaving him alone with Dahlia.

The only sound that filled the room was that of the other camps still dancing and singing as the moon rose ever higher over the crackling of the embers in front of them.

Sparing either of them the need to speak, Dahlia took a few steps forward and closed her eyes.

Hakon watched, mesmerized, as she lifted one of her hands from her side and brought it to hover over the center of the hearth.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, from the center of the ashes, a sprout rose and grew rapidly into a small bush.

Before his eyes, the shrub grew from a seed to the skeletal remains of what looked like a dead plant.

The leaves that grew and then withered away were bright red, the branches blackened as if they had already been burning.

When Hakon blinked, the branches seemed to fall apart on an invisible wind before assembling neatly in a pile.

Dahlia then raised her other palm up in a quick thrust toward the ceiling, purple flames sparking around the dried brush she had grown until it caught flame.

Soon, a fire that snapped and burned hotter than the previous source of heat roared between them, the edges of the fire tinged in violet .

"That was incredible," Hakon breathed. "What type of shrub was that?"

"It's called a brennbusk ," Dahlia said carefully, her eyes narrowing on him. Her reaction to his question confused him. "It basically means burning bush. They're native to Logi."

Dahlia moved to turn away from him, pivoting toward the door that led outside, when Hakon stood and reached for her.

He didn't know why his impulse was to go after her, why he had this need to remain close to her.

As soon as his skin came in contact with hers, they froze.

Hakon released her slender wrist as if she had burned him, the fire still radiating up his arm from where his fingers had rested on her skin.

Whatever alcohol remained in his blood had cleared away, his thoughts finding something to focus on now that he seemed to breathe easier.

Hakon cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if I've offended you somehow. I was only impressed by your use of galder ."

"You did not offend me," Dahlia said, her words kind but her tone icy. Still, she did not look at him.

"If what you say is true, then why are you looking at me like that?" Hakon asked, his voice betraying his annoyance now.

"I'm not looking at you."

"Exactly."

Dahlia sighed and brought her eyes to his, their vibrant shade of plum so like the amethyst crystal. Irritation lay in her gaze as she waited for him to speak again. Without realizing it, they had drifted toward each other until they hovered on the very edge of the close space between them.

"Did you know that this is the first time you've actually spoken to me?" the Elven said quietly, her breath skating across Hakon's skin. He shivered. "That before tonight, you have never acknowledged me?"

Was that true? Hakon tried to wrack his brain for any interactions with Dahlia, but the haze of the alcohol he had found solace in wiped away most of the last few weeks. Had he truly been that much of a wretch?

The answer to his question was written plainly in the Elven's features. Yes, he had been an absolute bastard .

Needing to separate himself, Hakon took a step back before responding. "I apologize; I have not been myself these last few weeks. I want you to know how grateful I am to you for saving my friend Gunnar. You should know that your efforts to help my brother will put me forever in your debt."

Dahlia watched him as he spoke, her gaze a physical touch on his skin.

Coming to some internal decision, she reached out a hand toward him.

Hakon paused for only a moment before he grasped it gently.

Her skin was warm despite the cold night; it radiated a strength that was not obvious at first glance of the healer.

"I am Dahlia, Matron Elven of Healing."

He felt a ghost of a smile tilt his lips upward. "Hakon Kolbeck, Heir of Rivers."

Unsure of what came over him, Hakon brought Dahlia's hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on the back of her palm before releasing it.

Surprise flashed on her face before she masked it again, her face tilting away from him to hide the flare of pink in her cheeks.

She thought she had hidden it, but Hakon caught the small betrayal of her thoughts.

His lips tipped up in the beginnings of a rakish smile.

"Goodnight, Your Highness," she responded before disappearing through the front door, leaving Hakon alone.

As he lay back on a stack of cushions in front of the violet-hued fire, his thoughts bounced from his conversation with Herrick to the strange anger that radiated from the Elven when they spoke.

Dahlia had seemed so collected on the outside; her mannerisms were refined, and her touch was gentle as she healed those in need.

But underneath the soft words and royal manners was a sharp tongue and stubborn soul that enticed him.

It was only when he closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep that he remembered the grief that had been eating him alive for weeks. Only now, he could breathe. Now he could see.