Page 12 of Chains of Love

Now I'm considering letting her deeper into my mind, my strength. The thought makes my skin crawl.

A breeze stirs the leaves above us, and I catch her scent on the wind. The bond hums in response, and I suppress a shiver. This is exactly what I'm afraid of – these moments where I forget she's my enemy, where the line between us blurs.

As I squint across the sun-drenched field, my attention is caught by a dark shape against the horizon. A building – small but solid, with smoke curling from what appears to be a chimney. My stomach growls at the mere thought of a hot meal.

"Look." I point toward the structure, already imagining what provisions we might find inside. "Might be worth checking out. Could even be an inn, or at least someone willing to trade."

Lirien follows my gaze, her nose wrinkling in that way that makes the scar on her cheek catch the light. "I don't know. We should stick to the road." Her fingers twist nervously in the fabric of her robes, a tell I've started to recognize when she's unsure.

"When was the last time you ate something that wasn't that rock-hard excuse for bread?" I can still taste the stale crumbs from this morning's meager breakfast, and the memory does nothing to quiet my growling stomach.

She pulls the wrapped loaf from her pack, examining it with a frown. Her delicate fingers prod at the crusty surface, and a few crumbs fall to the grass. "It's not that bad." But the way she says it makes it clear she's trying to convince herself as much as me.

"It could break teeth." I tap the hilt of my sword in thought. "Besides, whoever lives there might have a real bed. My back's killing me from sleeping on roots."

"Poor, delicate dark elf." She smirks, but I catch the way she rolls her shoulders, clearly as sore as I am. "Fine. But if this turns out to be some cultist's murder shack, I'm blaming you."

"Noted." I start across the field, grass whispering against my boots. "Though I'd take cultists over another night of your food."

I can feel our energy shift as we fall into a sort of banter.

"I didn't hear you complaining when you ate three times your serving of bread."

"I was starving. And it wasn't bread – it was crumbling crust."

She catches up to me, bumping my shoulder with hers. "It's not my fault you couldn't catch any game."

"Next time we're finding an inn. Or at least someone who knows the difference between seasoning and throwing random herbs on bread."

The bond thrums between us, warm and alive. I catch myself smiling and quickly school my features back to neutral. But not before Lirien notices – her green eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Was that an actual smile? Quick, someone mark the date."

"Shut up and walk, demon."

We change direction, heading toward the distant building. The tall grass parts before us like waves, and I find myself hoping whoever lives there is willing to share their hearth. And their pantry.

7

LIRIEN

Igrab Darak's arm as we approach the cottage, my fingers pressing into the leather of his armor. "Let me do the talking."

"I'm perfectly capable of?—"

"They're more likely to trust a pretty human than a dark elf with a sword," I say, cutting him off. "Especially out here."

"Pretty?" His crimson eyes narrow. "Your manipulation needs work."

"Just stay quiet and try not to look murderous." I pull my robes on and smooth them before reaching for the wooden door, rapping my knuckles against it three times.

The door creaks open, and I blink in surprise. Instead of the farmer or woodcutter I expected, a young minotaur boy peers up at us. His horns are barely more than nubs, and his brown fur is ruffled as if he's just woken from a nap.

"Oh," I say, caught off guard. "Hello there. Are your parents home?"

The boy's tail swishes behind him. "They're hunting. Won't be back 'til sunset." He grins, showing small teeth. "Want to come in? Ma always says to be nice."

I feel Darak tense beside me. The bond exposes his wariness to me.

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