The trail to Aerinthal was relentless. Fog clung to the forest like a living thing, thick and heavy, and the cold seeped into Liora's bones no matter how tightly she pulled her cloak.
She hated the silence most of all — not because it was quiet, but because Kael had stopped teasing her.
He walked ahead, sword strapped to his back, his dark cloak shifting with each step. He moved like a predator: confident, smooth, dangerous. She hated that too.
"Say something," she finally muttered.
Kael didn't turn. "Why? Missing my voice already?"
"Just wondering if your ego froze along with the river we crossed."
That made him glance back, and that smirk — the one she swore she'd carve off his face one day — returned.
"No such luck," he said. "But if you're cold, I could offer body heat."
She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "I'd rather cuddle a wyvern."
He chuckled. "Wyverns don't have hands like mine."
Her mouth opened. No words came. Her brain blanked, and for a second, the cold wasn't enough to cool the heat rushing through her veins.
He saw it. Of course he saw it. And he revelled in it.
"Get over yourself," she growled, stomping ahead.
But as night fell and the wind picked up, they were forced into a cave to take shelter.
It wasn't much — a hollow in the stone, barely wide enough for one person, let alone two.
"We'll freeze out there," Kael said simply.
Liora sighed and squeezed in, spine pressed to cold rock. Kael followed, and when he sat down beside her, their knees touched.
She tried to shift. He didn't move.
"You're warm," she muttered, annoyed.
He turned his head, voice like velvet and sin. "You can lean in if you want."
"I'll lean in when you're dead."
Kael chuckled softly. "I'll take that as a maybe."
His body radiated heat — maddening, steady heat. And gods help her, when the storm howled outside and the cave grew colder, she did lean in, just a little.
Kael said nothing. But when his hand brushed hers — whether by accident or not — neither of them pulled away.
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