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Chapter 20

Fae remembered the bed, but she did not remember going to sleep.

The room was simple and sparse, with tatami mats laid in careful lines, the faint scent of straw and clean wood rising from the floor. A futon had been set out already, thick and neatly folded, its cotton mattress firm beneath her hands when she pressed down to test it. Beside it lay a quilt, heavy enough to promise warmth but somehow light as a cloud, the fabric cool and smooth beneath her fingers.

A small tray waited near the doorway.

Steam escaped the covered dish when she lifted the lid, carrying the gentle, savoury scent the made her realise how tired she truly was. She ate a couple of dumplings with her bare hands, then found herself setting the dish aside, appetite already satisfied.

'You're full because you're exhausted,' Feraal commented helpfully from inside her head. 'The body does that when it's about to shut down.'

She snorted softly.

Charming.

She changed into a long undershirt and slid onto the futon, the mattress yielding as if to cradle her aching limbs. When she lay back, the unfamiliar night sounds had her wolf sitting up and looking around. She pulled the quilt up to her chin, tucking it around herself as a mother would have swaddled a baby.

'This is acceptable,' Feraal declared. 'I approve.'

She smiled faintly, eyelids already heavy, barely listening to his chatter.

The lamp by the wall cast a low, amber glow, the paper screen alive with flickering shadows. Fae reached out and turned it down, then off.

Darkness took her almost at once as Feraal fell silent at last.

As she slept, she did not see the shadows that passed through the garden.

Did not hear the soft tread of things that were not quite animal, not quite spirit, moving along the outer paths beneath the moon.

Instead, she dreamed of Blaidd.

Not the Blaidd she remembered, but a younger Blaidd.

He was on his knees in the snow, head bowed so low, his brow nearly touched the ground. The world around him was a white, empty, frozen nothingness. His blood painted the snow beneath him a scarlet in widening stains, vivid and hypnotic against the purity of the cold.

His axes lay abandoned at his side as if tossed down.

He was in pain—she could feel it like it were her own, sharp and echoing, like someone pulling at the bond in her chest. His wolf howled, calling to her, pleading, begging.

Help him.

He shifted, as though sensing her presence, and lifted his head.

That was when she saw his eyes.

They were not fully scarlet.

The red churned and twisted, but beneath it something else surged—pale brown, breaking through in slow currents. She had only seen the shade in that portrait in the hall and had only imagined the shade of brown in her dreams.

Shock held her immobile as he began to crawl toward her.

On his hands and knees, dragging himself forward, leaving streaks of red behind him. Each movement looked like agony, his breath coming in ragged pulls, fingers digging into ice and snow as though he worried about losing the ground he had gained.

She stepped back.

One step and then another.

"Fae," he whispered, trying to move closer.