Page 77 of The Crowned Queen

But the ceiling above her was wood, not canvas. She could smell the green sap from the fresh branches they’d cut to reinforce the roof, the faint sweetness mingling with the scent of the harsh soap Serafina used to scrub everything down. It had been weeks since Caylin nearly killed her. Since Kai drove a sword through Garrick Shaw and carried her into the forest.

She wasn’t in Elvanfal anymore. And the arms wrapped around her did not belong to Jaxon Shaw.

“Nightmare?” Loren asked, his breath stirring her hair.

“Just a dream.” Araya turned carefully in Loren’s arms, letting the cold rain and stone scent of him fill her nose and calm her racing heart. His shadows surrounded them, cocooning them both in velvety darkness.

Safe. As long as she was with him, she was safe.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“Some.” His hands smoothed down her arms, his thumb brushing lightly across the little shadow that had been wrapped around her wrist since she woke up. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine.” Araya pressed a kiss against his shoulder, then stretched up, pressing another to his throat, the corner of his jaw. Loren’s magic raced across her skin, heat flaring between them as her still-healing body greedily drank in everything he could give her.

“Ael’sura—” whatever Loren had been about to say cut off in a rough groan as she shifted, settling herself on top of him. “You’re still healing.”

“Serafina cleared me,” she murmured against his skin. “Remember?”

She leaned forward, deepening the kiss when he opened to the soft flick of her tongue. His moan was music to her ears, his hands leaving trails of fire where they slid over her body, careful fingers tracing each rib⁠—

Until they caught on the first raised, tender line of scar tissue.

Loren froze, his lips turning wooden against hers. He gripped her hips—not to pull her closer like she wanted, but holding her back.

“We shouldn’t,” he mumbled.

We should, Araya wanted to scream. They should, because she was alive and he was here, and Jaxon Shaw couldn’t take this from her too.

But Loren was already easing her aside, rolling away from her to grab his shirt. Araya would have given anything to know what he was feeling, what he was thinking—but even though he’d stopped the tea their bond hovered just out of her reach, locked away from her by the sor’vael runes carved into her flesh.

“Is something wrong?” she asked instead.

Loren’s shoulders tensed, the pale, scarred expanse of his back tightening as he dragged his shirt over his head. Her own skin prickled at the sight, leaving her suddenly very aware of the healing lines of scar tissue across her back.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, still not looking at her. “You need your strength if you’re still insisting on going through with this foolish⁠—”

He cut himself off, snapping his teeth shut on the last word. But it hung between them like an accusation.

“Going through with what?” Araya demanded. “Removing the runes? If I recall, you were the one who wanted them gone so badly back on Eluneth.”

“That was then.” He turned, reaching for her. “Things are different now⁠—”

Araya pulled away, grabbing her own shirt from the floor. It was too large for her, hanging nearly to mid-thigh. Serafina had discouraged belting it, concerned the pressure would irritate her healing scars. Everything in her life revolved around those scars, now.

“Different how?” she challenged. They had already had this argument—multiple times. “You said it was my decision.”

Loren dropped his hand, frustration and something rawer flickering across his face. “You nearly died in my arms, Araya,” he whispered. “Haven’t you been through enough pain? Why let another human cut into you⁠—”

“Kai isn’t just another human,” Araya protested. “He got me out. He killed Garrick Shaw⁠—”

“I’m aware,” Loren snapped. “He’s also the one that put those same runes on you. So forgive me for not being more grateful.”

Araya’s breath caught. “Loren⁠—”

“I’ll let you get dressed,” he said stiffly.

He was gone before she could answer, the door swinging shut behind him so quickly that the last of his shadows had to squeeze beneath the door, leaving her staring at the empty space he’d left behind.