A part of me wants to trust him and let down my guard. But the battle inside me won’t allow it, fear and longing clashing until I’m torn apart, like two halves of me can’t decide which will win.
The warmth of the water slips from my skin as I climb out of the stream and wrap myself in a heavy fur I find nearby. It smells of Theron, earthy, like blue roses from Mother’s garden after rain.
I can finally look around without Theron distracting me. This house isalive. The walls, a weaving of branches and leaves, seem to stretch if I look too long. It’s as though the trees are watching me as I watch them. I had a similar feeling in the forest.
The glow of flowers and stones dapples the room, and the light softens the edges of everything. I look back at the stream, noticing how it weaves in and out of the breathing walls. Like from one branch to another. How is it warm?
My gaze settles on a small puddle near the stream, right where Theron washed my hair.
Oh dear goddesses.
Shaking my head, I force myself to move, taking slow steps toward the sitting area. Theron created this place for me, and I can feel his effort in everything.
My eyes trace over the carvings on the furniture, vines and leaves etched in beautiful patterns, each detail too perfect to be casual. Theron didn’t just build this house, he poured himself into it. And that thought, of him working, carving, shaping it to be so beautiful for me, makes my chest warm. I trace my fingersover the grooves. I wonder if he thought of me with each stroke, if he imagined what it might mean for me to sit here, to call this place home.
Home.
The word tastes foreign. This home isn’t mine. It doesn’t matter how beautiful it is or how carefully it was made. It only highlights what I’ve lost—the kitchen shelves packed with my mother’s herbs and charms, the warmth of her presence in every corner. Here, the shelves are bare, waiting for me to fill them, but I can’t bring myself to make this space my own. It feels like accepting something I’m not ready for. Like admitting that what I had is truly gone.
I wander to the cabinet, open it. Inside, there’s nothing but earthy soap—his soap. I lift one of the containers, raising it to my nose. Did he think I’d like this? Did he wonder if it would remind me of him when he wasn’t here?
Finally, I turn toward the bed, a nest of furs and blankets so inviting, it might swallow me whole. I sigh.
It’s too much. Every detail in this house is too much. Too much effort, too much care, too much expectation. And yet, standing here, wrapped in a fur that smells like him, surrounded by his work, his hard work, I’ve never felt so alone.
It’s so quiet here.
It was quiettheretoo.
Back in Tárnov, I knew how to endure loneliness. I knew how to build walls around myself, to survive without the warmth of connection. But this place that breathes with life makes the absence of my mother, of everything I’ve lost, unbearable.
My pulse quickens with the urge to leave and find him when I look at the door. I want to ask why he did all this, why he would go to such lengths for someone he doesn’t even know.
I’m his mate.
I shake my head again. I don’t need to think about him. Yes, he’s great. So far, he’s shown me nothing but kindness. But I’m here for a different reason.
I glance back at the door, taking a few steps closer. Furrowing my brows, I look down at my body. The fur is wrapped tight, I know it won’t slip. Besides, all the vólkins I’ve seen were bare. But then again, Theron’s eyes widened when he sawmebare.
I tighten the fur into a firm knot and open the door.
As I step out of the house, the cool night air brushes against my skin. The forest hums in the distance, and I feel freedom. For a couple seconds.
Two vólkins stand near the entrance, their giant forms silhouetted against the glow of the flowers and the barely noticeable moon. As they see me, both bow low, their paws pressed to their chests in that gesture of respect I’ve yet to grow accustomed to. I’m still wet down there... Can they tell? Oh goddesses.
“Your Majesty,” one of them says. “Are you going on a walk?”
A walk? The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but now that he mentions it, it feels like exactly what I should say. So I nod.
I had no idea there were guards. They’re so quiet.
The two vólkins exchange a glance, subtle, but I catch it. Then the other speaks. “My apologies, but Theron has instructed us to keep you safe. Please, allow us to accompany you.”
My brows knit together. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
I don’t need nursemaids.
The first vólkin hesitates, his ears twitching as he glances at his companion. “I truly apologize, but w??—”
