Elana paused as Israel led her, following the wendigo back to the room where Naina was. She could hear the soft sniffles as she reached the door.
"Naina," she called gently. " Are you ok?"
"No. I'm not." Naina's voice cracked, this was one of the rare times she did not hide behind sarcasm.
"Maybe it'll help to talk about it. I promise I'll listen." Elana tried to sound stronger than she felt.
With their parents gone, she had to be strong for both of them.
Naina choked back a sob, "While we were at the mountains, one of the soldiers mentioned that the king is calling all nobles and their heirs to the palace for special protection. I pleaded with Lord Azael to help but he refused."
Elana exhaled slowly. "Maybe he said no because it's still dangerous. There are enemy soldiers in the forest."
"If we don't meet the king as nobles," Naina's voice trembled. "when the war ends… We'll have nothing. No lands, no farms. Our parents' legacy..gone." Her sobs deepened.
Elana's heart leapt at the rare acknowledgement. Naina had recognized her as family and it made her determined.
"I'll speak to Lord Azael too. Our parents won't have died for nothing," she promised.
"Oh. Please do." Naina whispered, a flicker of hope in her tone. And Elana swore she would not let her down.
**
The creature holding her hand instead of Israel felt misty, almost ethereal.
After putting Israel to rest in the room with Naina, Elana demanded to see Azael.
It stopped at the room where Azael had placed her for recovery. She recognized the familiar scent. Was this his room?
"Count Azael," The creature's voice echoed softly.
"Leave." Azael's deep voice ordered. The creature obeyed.
Elana swallowed hard.
"Lord Azael. Please lend us your carriage to reach the king's palace."
A pause.
"You know the forest isn't safe. Why risk your lives to get to the king?" His voice was low, lazy, and undeniably majestic.
"If we don't…we might not have a life after the war. It is important we go."
"Do you have to go with them?" His tone sharpened. "You'll only be recognized as a servant, after all, no matter how you see them."
His words cut sharply. The truth always hurts.
"What matters is how I see them—Israel and Naina. They're my family."
Azael's command came next, sudden and unmistakable. "Come to my voice."
She obeyed. Stepping carefully until she bumped the edge of the bed. Then she sensed him—his scent, his presence close.
"Why do you try so hard to slip from me, little one?" his whisper brushed her lips.
Elana's breath caught. "What do you—" she hesitated, a tangle of confusion and anticipation coiling inside her.
"Why do you draw me in until I lose my senses?" his voice was closer, intoxicating.
She froze for a heartbeat, remembering his warning about touching him again. She would do anything to feel how close he was at the moment.
His hands found her waist, she gasped as he drew her gently to him. She felt the hard press of his chest and the warmth of his body against her soft form.
"Azael.." Her voice came out soft and breathless, her palms resting lightly on his chest.
Her body betrayed her, leaning into his presence.
Cold fingers lifted her chin, tilting her face toward him. She felt his breath with every word he said next.
"Indeed, the pull of fate is hard to resist."
His lips met hers and Elana melted into his arms. The world stilled, their breaths finding the same rhythm.
With a hesitant shiver, her lips parted, receiving him, her first kiss.
His kiss simmered with need, taking hers in starving desperation.
The heat of his tongue left her breathless.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawn helplessly closer, the peak of her breasts tightened against the strength and warmth of his body.
A shame to kiss a man in her maiden condition—yet she couldn't stop herself.
She hadn't imagined he would want to kiss her.
A lord showing interest in a blind slave was unheard of, and yet her body responded instinctively, as if it had been waiting for him.
He broke the kiss, but stayed close, holding her. She felt his cold steady breath on her face as opposed to the warmth their kiss had stirred.
"The problem," he murmured, low and husky. "is that you feel this pull too."
Elana didn't move.
When he finally released her, her feet touched the floor—she hadn't realized he'd lifted her while they kissed.
"If you must leave," Azael said, his voice returning to his usual cold, distant command, "tomorrow is best. If you feel well enough for a trip, the carriage will be ready."
Her mind cleared slowly, still hazy with desire but she felt a quiet satisfaction that Naina now had hope.
"Thank you. Master Azael," she whispered.
The air felt empty after he left, but the echo of his presence lingered in her chest.
**
That night Elana lay awake. She'd left Israel with Naina to rest undisturbed.
But she couldn't quiet her mind.
The memory of him haunted her—his voice, his scent, his arms. Was this what desire felt like?
Until now, she had explored pleasure by herself. But his touch awakened something wilder than the domains she had reached.
Would she ever find another man who would make her feel this connection?
She could still feel the contrast of his cold skin and the warmth it stirred in her.
His skin felt different from the people she touched, and she liked it.
His lips hadn't been cold, the insides of his mouth had burned, like fire wrapped in snow. Consuming her senses.
Elana bit her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, heat rising under her skin. Silently aching for more.
For him.
Master Azael.
**
Outside, hooves broke the stillness of the night.
Through the mist rode King Victor, leading a troop of soldiers. Behind him, came his mage cloaked in pale blue with wide, flared sleeves, his face hidden beneath the hood.
The mage halted, turning toward the king. "My king, this is an ancient's territory."
A grin curved beneath the shadows of his hood. "The war was a brilliant idea. It brought us exactly where we needed to be."
King Victor laughed. "You're indeed the genius, Syrus. I will claim this land and capture the ancient for you."
"I'll leave a piece of myself here. The ancient might close off the path soon—and we'll need a way back."
Syrus extended his hand from his sleeve, releasing a swirl of dark smoke.
The black mist floated away into the fog, pulsing faintly.
"Now." Syrus said, his grin widening, "We'll be sure to visit whenever we please."