When She Walked With Crows

Chapter Sixteen — Warmth in the Quiet

Anwen’s cheeks warmed.

He’d stayed. All night. For her.

She lifted her free hand and brushed her fingers lightly through his hair — a soft, grateful touch she didn’t dare give him while he was awake.

Silas stirred.

His eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, then widening when he realized where he was — and that he was still holding her hand.

“Oh—uh—sorry,” he said quickly, pulling back like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I didn’t mean to— I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Anwen smiled, small and warm. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Silas froze.

That hit him harder than she realized.

He swallowed, ears turning pink. “I… didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Her cheeks flushed too, a soft rosy color that had nothing to do with fever. She shifted slightly, sitting up with his help.

“Silas?” she said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Close your eyes.”

He blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just… trust me.”

He hesitated, then shut his eyes, jaw tightening like he was bracing for something dangerous.

Anwen leaned forward, heart fluttering, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek — warm, quick, grateful.

Silas inhaled sharply.

Her lips lingered only a second, but it was enough to send a warm jolt through both of them.

“You can open them now,” she whispered.

He did.

And he looked at her like she’d just knocked the breath out of him.

“I… that was…” He cleared his throat, flustered. “Thank you.”

Anwen giggled — a soft, shy sound she tried to hide behind her hand. “You took care of me. I wanted to thank you properly.”

Silas rubbed the back of his neck, face burning. “You don’t have to— I mean— I didn’t do it for— I just—”

“I know,” she said gently. “That’s why.”

Ink cawed, smug.

Silas helped her sit up fully and brought her a small bowl of warm broth. She ate slowly at first, but halfway through, she winced and pressed a hand to her stomach.

Silas immediately leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just… ate too fast again.” She set the bowl aside, breath unsteady. “I think my stomach’s still upset from the fever.”

Silas frowned, worry tightening his chest again. “Then don’t eat anymore. I’ll make something lighter later.”

She nodded, grateful.

He stood, grabbing his coat. “I’m going to get firewood. You need warmth. And after that, I’ll heat water for a bath.”

“A bath?” she echoed, surprised.

“You were soaked all night,” he said gently. “You need to warm up properly. Just relax. I’ll take care of it.”

Her cheeks flushed again — not fever this time.

“Silas… thank you.”

He paused at the door, looking back at her with a softness she wasn’t used to seeing directed at her.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “I want to help.”

Ink tapped her shoulder like he means it.

Anwen smiled, sinking back into the cushions as Silas stepped outside to gather wood.

For the first time in a long time, the house felt warm.

Not because of the fire.

Because of him.