For the first time since the mines, the packhouse feels calm.
The air smells like warm bread, woodsmoke, and clean laundry instead of blood, fear, stone dust, or runes humming through the walls. I breathe in slowly, letting the scents settle into my bones. It feels like stepping into a different world. A better one. A quieter one.
I wake slowly, curled against Nathan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around me like a living cocoon, both protective and slightly suffocating. I wiggle a little, trying to get some space, but his grip tightens instinctively, his breath brushing the top of my hair.
“You cannot choke me in your sleep,” I mumble.
Nathan makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a complaint. “Not letting go.”
“I need to pee.”
That gets a reaction. Barely. He loosens his grip by
