Page 12 of Bound in Flames

I wanted to tell her about my hope that she might be the shaman we’d been waiting for. The clans had been pushed to the edges of Ostelan for too long, forced into shadows while the humans claimed everything that once sustained us. If she truly was the shaman from the prophecy, she could be the key to reclaiming the forests and rebuilding what was taken. But I couldn’t tell her that. She wasn’t invested enough to help us, not with the weight of what it would mean. I needed to earn her trust, to guide her to see our cause as her own. It would take time, and I couldn’t risk overwhelming her too soon. Besides, if a new shaman had been born, the darkness would already be stirring, hunting for her. That alone would be enough to keep her cautious and moving forward. The rest… the truth… I would hold back until I was certain she could handle it. Until she was ready to become the weapon we needed against the Crown and the darkness that took over our forests.

The forest had grown steadily colder as we moved, the light fading quickly. I scanned the area, deeming this a suitable place to rest for the night. "We’ll camp here. The night is coming fast, and you’re not built for traveling in the dark."

She bristled but said nothing, dropping her bag onto the ground with a tired sigh. I set to work gathering firewood, my ears straining for any sound that might signal danger. Every snap of branches and rustle of leaves put me on edge, my senses sharpened by the knowledge that the Wild Lands, though beautiful, were merciless to the unprepared.

Once the fire was lit, Cleo sat close to the flames, rubbing her hands together for warmth. The light painted her face in flickering golds and shadows, picking out the dirt smudged on her cheek and the lines of exhaustion etched into her features. Yet despite the weariness in her posture, she didn’t look weak. Just human enough to remind me how fragile she was in a place like this. My gaze lingered on her too long, noting the way herhair caught the firelight, before I turned my focus back to the forest, scanning the darkness for any lurking threats.

The flames crackled louder as the icy wind picked up, sending a violent shiver through her shoulders. I sighed, moving closer to her as it whipped through the clearing. "You’re shivering.” My voice was more of a rumble as I settled behind her, pulling her back into the circle of my arms. With my warmth shielding her, it could no longer strike her with its bite.

She stiffened under my touch, the unexpected closeness drawing a sharp tension into her frame. Her breath hitched, barely audible, but I felt it like a spark against the night. Every inch of her felt wound tight, caught in the indecision of whether to lean into the warmth between us or push it away.

The scent of her invaded my senses, a blend of sweat and something softer, floral and inviting. It mingled with the smoke of the fire and the crisp bite of the forest night, weaving together into something that made my pulse quicken. The space between us felt charged, alive, as though the night itself held its breath.

The contrast between us was impossible to ignore as I looked down at her. Her skin, soft and fair, caught the flickering firelight, while mine, a deep earthen green, bore the scars and weathering of years on the battlefield. The curve of her bare shoulder brushed against my chest, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how delicate she seemed in comparison, like something impossibly fragile.

The wind tugged at her hair, and without thinking, I reached up to brush it behind her ear. My fingers grazed the smooth line of her neck, warm and soft beneath my touch. She didn’t flinch. Instead, her shoulders eased, and the blush I’d grown to enjoy painted her cheeks once more.

She was stunning, in a way that caught me off guard. A beauty both soft and fierce, like steel wrapped in silk. I found myself wondering how someone like her had been so thoroughlylet down by the world, a world that had shaped her into this perfect paradox of fragility and strength.

"Humans. Always cold," I said, aiming to break some of the tension growing between us.

I could easily imagine the flash of anger sparking in her eyes, the look I had grown so accustomed to. Disappointment tugged at me, knowing my seat behind her kept me from seeing her expressions. I shifted to the side and leaned over her shoulder just enough to catch a glimpse of her face. Her frustration was delicious, a wildfire I couldn’t resist feeding. The urge to wind her up, to draw out that fire, was almost impossible to ignore.

"And orcs? Always bossy?"

I tried to smother the smirk from my voice as I responded, gleeful at how easy it was for me to get under her skin. “Always.”

The banter fell away, leaving us in the silence of the forest. The firelight danced between us, and though her breathing slowed, her body remained alert. She wasn’t yet used to the quiet. To the way it magnified every thought and fear. I could see it in her posture, the way she rubbed at her wrists absentmindedly, likely still feeling the ghost of the cuffs that had bound her.

"You need to learn control," I said, breaking the silence.

Her head tilted, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Control?"

"Your magic," I clarified, my tone softening. "If you can control it, you could call on the warmth of the fire and draw it into you."

"How?"

"I can teach you," I said, shifting impossibly closer. "It starts with learning to feel for it, to pull on it with purpose. Meditation helps, but it will take time to master it."

Her hands trembled as she looked down at her lap, hesitation heavy in her voice. "The last time it came, it wasn’t on purpose. It was… chaotic. I couldn’t control it."

"What happened? What were you feeling when it reared up?”

Her voice softened as she stared into the fire. "It was… the market. My father…" Her muscles bunched beneath my arms, vibrating with tension. I wanted to see her eyes, to read the emotions flickering there, but all I could feel was the rigidity of her body as she forced the words out. "He humiliated me in front of everyone, blamed me for the farm’s ruin, slapped me… and I-I felt this anger. This unbearable rage."

Her shoulders shook, her breaths shallow. "It wasn’t just the slap. It was years of his drinking, his fists, his words. My mother had passed, and he took it out on me. I hated him for what he had become.”

My hold on her tightened instinctively, as if I could shield her from the memory. "Then these vines came out of the ground, and I couldn’t stop them.”

The words hung heavy between us, her body trembling against me. How could her father, the man who gave her life, dare lay a hand on his daughter in anger? The thought burned in my mind, fueling a quiet fury I had to work to suppress. Humans confused and infuriated me in equal measure. That she had endured years of abuse and mistreatment, yet emerged as this defiant and kind woman, was nothing short of extraordinary. I was impressed that her spirit hadn’t been crushed, that she was as stubborn and resilient as she was, despite everything she’d faced.

Taking a steadying breath, I focused on giving her a small measure of comfort. “You were protecting yourself. That rage, it’s what your magic answered to. But you can’t let it control you. Harnessing it is what separates a real shaman from chaos."

Cleo shuffled against me, crossing her legs and straightening up again. Before she could fully settle, I pulled her back against my chest, my arms resting loosely around her.For warmth. I towered over her, leaning forward just enough to surround herwith my body heat. Though I couldn’t see the profile of her face clearly in the dark, the way her muscles flexed beneath my arms told me she was flustered. It amused me more than it should. There was something undeniably satisfying about the way she reacted, her independence clashing with her inability to mask her emotions.

"You need to be comfortable," I said, my voice low. "For now, use my body heat so you can focus. Close your eyes."

She snapped her eyes shut with almost comical force. For several minutes she was still, shifting restlessly every so often. My lips twitched, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. I could almost taste her nervous energy, and it was delicious.

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