Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Then… nothing.
Bria pushed herself up slowly, the blanket falling back as she sat at the edge of the bed. She glanced down at herself, noting at once that she was still fully clothed, her cloak draped across the nearby chair as though placed there with care.
Had she returned here on her own?
She searched her memory, reaching for something, anything, that might explain it, but there was only the kiss, vivid and undeniable, and then a blankness she could not bridge.
A dream?
The thought did not sit well.
There had been nothing uncertain in it, nothing fleeting as dreams often were. She could still feel it, the warmth lingering faintly, the memory too clear, too real.
Bria rose and moved slowly through the small space, her hand brushing absently along the table as she passed. Everything remained as she had left it, the quiet order of her cottage unchanged, offering no answers to what she could not recall.
Her fingers stilled briefly.
In time, you will come to understand.
His words returned to her with unwelcome clarity.
She drew in a slow breath, pushing the thought aside before it could take hold too firmly. There were more immediate matters to see to. The village had not yet calmed, not after what had been set in motion, and there would be those who needed tending.
Work would bring clarity. It always did.
She brewed chamomile leaves while she freshened her face with a splash of water from the bucket near the hearth, then drew a bone comb through her hair and tied it back with a leather strip. After drinking only half the brew, she gathered her cloak and stepped outside.
The morning air met her with a crisp chill, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. Willowmere stirred but not as it always did. An unease lingered. Movement remained cautious, voices lower, glances cast more often toward the forest than toward one another.
She feared Willowmere would not easily return to what it had been. Not until the creature was caught.
Bria pulled her cloak more securely about her shoulders and made her way along the familiar path, her thoughts and steps leading her where she hadn’t intended to go… to Kaelan.
She needed to speak with him. Needed to know what had happened the night before, or the distraction of it would soon begin to interfere with her work.
The quiet deepened as she neared the recovery cottage. No one lingered near it—understandably so, given its closeness to the forest.
Her gaze shifted that way and she stilled.
Something moved among the trees.
Her breath caught, her hand rising instinctively to her chest as she strained to see more clearly. Then recognition struck.
Kaelan.
He moved with purpose, already beyond the safety of the village boundary, heading into the forest as though he had every intention of going deeper still.
Bria hesitated. She was not one to take such chances. She valued the certainty of her life, the safety of Willowmere, the quiet rhythm she understood.
And yet… she found herself moving. At first, only a step. Then another. Then faster. Why she followed, she could not say. Only that she could not seem to stop.
Bria kept her distance as she followed, careful where she placed each step, mindful of every sound that might carry ahead of her. The forest closed around her quickly, the light thinning beneath the canopy, the air cooler and touched with the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves.
Kaelan did not slow.
He moved with purpose, his strides steady and sure, as though the forest offered no obstacle to him, no uncertainty. It struck her then how different he seemed here—more at ease, more aware—his attention not wandering as others’ might, but fixed, intent.
Bria eased closer, drawn as much by curiosity as by the quiet pull she could not ignore.
He slowed at last. Not by much, but enough that she noticed. Then he stopped.
Bria stilled at once, remaining where she was, watching as he lowered himself slightly, one hand brushing the ground as though reading something there that she could not see from where she stood.
Her gaze followed the movement, searching.
There was nothing obvious. No broken branch, no disturbance she could easily mark. And yet he studied the ground as though it spoke to him.
Bria took another careful step forward. Then another.
He did not turn. Did not so much as shift in acknowledgment of her presence.
Still, she continued, drawn closer, unable to ignore the need to see what he saw… or to understand what he sought.
He rose slowly.
For a moment, she thought he would move on without a word.
Instead, without turning, he spoke. “It would be safer if you remained closer.”
The quiet authority in his voice halted her where she stood more surely than if he had faced her outright.
Bria frowned slightly. “You knew I followed.”
“I knew the moment you stepped beyond the trees,” he said, having heard her movements and knowing, without question, it was her.