The room smelled of lavender oil and woodsmoke.
Eira stood in front of a mirror, her bandages freshly changed, hair still damp from the basin bath Vael had brought in himself. Candle light streamed in through the narrow windows, catching the gold in her eyes and the bruising at her ribs.
She wasn’t dressed yet.
Not fully.
Just a linen shift, loose at the shoulders, as Vael stood behind her, holding up the deep green gown he’d brought in. His gaze raked down her spine—slow, thorough, far too calm for the fire building behind his eyes.
“You’re staring,” she murmured, hiding her smile.
“You’re exposed,” he replied, unbothered. “I’m only appreciating the view before I cover it.”
Eira turned her head slightly, lips twitching. “You’re getting bold.”
He leaned closer, his voice brushing h
