A steaming cup of coffee woven with thick cream appeared at the table beside her. Pushing the wild waves of her hair out of her face, she picked up the substantial mug, savoring the warmth in her hands as she took a sip that burned her tongue.
She held out her coffee cup expectantly, and Ven grasped it between his fingers with a raise of his dark brows, taking a swig.
She stood up, letting the sheet fall away completely to puddle on the floor at her feet, biting her lip to hide a smirk as he choked on the coffee.
Wiping his mouth, his eyes swept down her body, darkening with desire before locking with hers. A battle of wills.
And as she took the mug of coffee back, she headed into the bathing chamber. “As you said," she glanced over a shoulder, "no time to waste.”
A string of muttered curses sounded behind her as she closed the door.
Ven’s shadows cast them into a rugged patch of mountainside, the winter air blasted the peaks around them as she scanned the horizon.
“The Western Ridge—the edge of our kingdom.” Ven looked out across the wind-whipped terrain. “I spent countless nights on these hills." His expression turned wistful. "Here—I was just another Wraith sent out to the Shades for training. Not a half-breed prince. Not the son of a queen. Not the son of a monster . . .”
She understood that more than he could know. Their burdens had been different, but she knew what it was to carry the weight of her family and the expectations that came with it.
For him—everyone waited for his father’s blood to emerge. For her—no one had expected much of anything at all.
“Most of the Blood Folk chose to live within Ravenstone’s walls,” Ven explained, leading the way, “but some wanted to remain on the outskirts of the kingdom following the war."
The path opened up ahead, revealing roughly cut dwellings carved into the cliffs, a handful of them glowing with firelight. Ven stalked forward, keeping an even pace with her as they approached a humble, wooden door.
He turned, breath misting the air between them. “Hathos and his family have been here for generations. It’s a rough way of living, but he’s always preferred the solitude.”
Through a snow dusted window, Aurelia could see a fire crackling cozily in the home, a pair of well-worn pants hung up on the hearth to dry, candles burned nearly to stumps along the windowsill.
Ven pounded his fist against the thick wood, and it wasn’t more than a few moments before the door scraped open, warm air encasing them in the smell of yeasty bread and spiced wine—the aroma startlingly at odds with the male who greeted them.
Heavy brows creased in suspicion on a face etched with age. The male had clearly witnessed millennia, but his broad shoulders still held a strength that would have rivaled someone much younger. Thick cords of muscle roped arms wide as tree trunks, and the mere size of him was enough to make Aurelia take an involuntary step back.
He took a step onto the threshold, recognition flickering behind his ruby eyes.
“My King,” the male’s rugged face split into a wide grin, much to Aurelia’s relief as Ven put his arm around her waist and brought her to stand beside him once more.
Ven clasped the male’s forearm in greeting. “To you—it’s just Ven.”
Hathos pulled Ven into his massive chest, slapping his back with thunderous affection. “Long have been the years since you have darkened my doorstep.” He put Ven at arm’s length once more, his eyes falling to where Aurelia still stood in the snow. “Well now—poor manners to keep a lady waiting in the cold. You on the other hand . . .” His gaze slid to Ven as he let out a rumble of deep laughter that threatened to set off an avalanche.
Hathos poured a steaming cup of spiced wine into the mug in front of Aurelia with a wink.
After Ven had made her introduction to the male, Hathos had been the consummate host, ushering them inside and insisting they share a drink and a meal.
They were seated at the scratched table in the center of the room, the dark wood oiled and clean, well-loved. The house was humble, but warm and inviting.
“Much has changed since we met last,” Hathos rumbled.
“Indeed,” Ven answered with a smile as his eyes slid to where Aurelia sat beside him, resting a palm on her thigh, his warmth sinking into her skin even through the thick winter leggings she wore.
“Hathos served my mother.” Ven nodded to the male. “And my grandsire before her as the Master Bladesmith. His son and daughters as well . . .”
The male across from her gave a humble dip of his chin.
The sheer size of him made sense now as she considered the weapons she’d seen the Wraiths wield. And then she caught the sadness clouding his dark eyes as they dropped to the cup in front of him, darting to the empty chairs at the table for only an instant before he seemed to compose himself once more.
“I got to witness the male before you when he was a mere pup.” Hathos smiled, his eyes crinkling like a doting father.
“I hope you have stories,” Aurelia grinned, relishing the panicked look on Ven’s face as the older male let out a rumble of laughter.