They didn't speak for a while after that.
Maybe it was the fight. Or the flirting. Or the way her heart was still pounding for all the wrong reasons.
The trees grew thinner as they moved. The scent of blood still clung to her skin, mixed with the fading adrenaline and something else—something warmer.
Saphira didn't look at Killian. She didn't have to.
She could feel him beside her. Every step. Every breath.
"Are you always like that after a fight?" she asked eventually, keeping her tone light.
"Like what?"
"Like you've suddenly decided sarcasm is a suitable recovery method."
He shrugged. "Would you rather I cry about it?"
She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
This time, she did glance at him—and instantly regretted it.
He wasn't looking at her, but there was something in his posture. Relaxed. Almost… at ease. Like the walls he usually had up were just a little lower. Like he hadn't realized it yet.
Like he trusted her.
The thought made her chest feel tight.
They reached a clearing where the river cut through the land in a lazy bend. The sound of running water was a comfort—gentle, rhythmic. Killian knelt by the edge, cupping water in his hands to wash the blood off his face.
Saphira hesitated before joining him.
She dipped her hands in, letting the cold shock her back to reality. Her reflection stared back at her—mud-smeared, blood-streaked, and wide-eyed in a way she didn't like.
Killian looked over at her, brows drawn.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied quickly, too quickly.
He didn't press. Just nodded once and leaned back against a nearby rock, his shirt clinging to him, still damp from sweat and effort. There was a new bruise forming along his collarbone. She tried not to stare.
"You were… good back there," he said after a pause.
She blinked. "Are you actually complimenting me?"
"You were fast. Smart. Brutal."
She snorted. "Wow. Romance at its finest."
He laughed softly. "You've redefined romance for me."
There was something in the way he said it. Quiet. Like he wasn't just teasing.
Saphira stood abruptly. "We should keep moving. The bandits might've had a camp nearby."
He didn't argue. Just grabbed his pack and fell in step beside her.
They walked in silence again, but this time, it wasn't awkward.
It was… comfortable.
Until she made the mistake of asking, "You ever been ambushed like that before?"
Killian hesitated. "Once."
She looked over. "And?"
"I lost someone."
Her heart stuttered.
"Oh," she said softly.
He nodded. "It was years ago. My brother."
The silence that followed was deafening.
She didn't know what to say. What could she say?
"I'm sorry," she managed.
"Don't be," he said. "It wasn't your fault."
But there was something brittle in his voice.
She almost reached out. Almost touched his hand.
Instead, she whispered, "That's why you were watching me the whole time, wasn't it? During the fight."
He met her gaze.
And didn't deny it.
"You don't have to protect me," she said. "I can handle myself."
"I know," he replied. "But I'm going to anyway."
That shut her up.
Because part of her didn't want to be protected.
But another part—the part she never talked about—the part that still remembered what it felt like to be alone in battle… didn't mind it either.
They camped that night in a small hollow near the river.
The stars blinked overhead, quiet witnesses to everything left unsaid between them.
Saphira lay on her side, facing the fire. Killian sat across from her, sharpening his blades like he always did when he was thinking too hard.
She watched the way his hands moved. The precision. The calm.
"You were quiet again," she said.
He looked up. "Thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
He smirked faintly. "Only when I'm thinking about you."
Her stomach flipped.
"Do you ever stop?" she asked, exasperated.
His smirk faded into something softer. "I'm trying not to."
She didn't know what that meant.
Didn't want to ask.
Didn't want to hear the answer.
The firelight danced in his eyes, but there was no mischief there now. No sarcasm. Just that raw, unfiltered honesty that made her want to scream.
"I think you scare me more than the mark," he added, voice barely above a whisper.
"Why?"
"Because you make me want to choose something else."
Saphira's breath caught.
He looked away, as if afraid of what she'd say.
But she didn't say anything.
She couldn't.
Because he wasn't the only one scared.