The camp was quiet when I returned.
The wind had gone to ground, too. The last fires hissed softly under a layer of frost. The wolves slept where they’d fallen, too restless to move, too spent to fight the exhaustion weaving through the Veil. Every sound was distant, like the world had flattened away from itself.
But the tether wouldn’t let me hide.
It coiled in my skin like a second pulse that wasn’t mine, each throb a reminder of him — of his scent, his breath, the faint shimmer of guilt he worked so hard to bury. I could feel it, the same way I felt my own heartbeat: that steady ache, that low pressure building in my chest until every step I took toward him hurt.
His tent was a silhouette. The guards posted nearby avoided my gaze. One of them looked like he wanted to stop me, but
