The forest breathed its winter breath as Kaelen emerged from the treeline. Rabbits hung limp from his fist, their fur dark with blood and melting frost. He was in a good mood—the traps had worked, and for a few hours at least, survival felt like something they could hold.
But the moment he stepped into the clearing, the air changed.
Elara pulled away from Vaelith as if his skin had turned to cinder. She moved toward the woodpile, her movements too quick, too deliberate. Vaelith remained where he stood, still as carved stone, his expression unreadable. But Elara—her cheeks were stained with heat, her hands trembling as she gathered logs. She couldn't look at Kaelen.
Hadn't looked at him since he emerged.
Kaelen's gaze sharpened. He knew Vaelith too well to need proof. He knew Elara too
