Page 38 of Daughter of the Serpent

He reached out once more, his eyes watching her closely at her reaction.

“Please, don’t come any closer.” She warned, raising her hand.

The memory was still fresh - the sickening crunch of bones, the way their skulls and bellies had split under his blade as if they were nothing more than mere playthings.

He may have saved her, but that didn’t mean she was safe with him now, or that she could give him her trust

“I will do you no harm.”

"Then why didn’t you tell the truth?" Her voice sharpened, confusion and anger threading through it when she finally looked up at him. "Why didn’t you tell them at my trial it was you who killed those men?"

He tilted his head, a shadow of a grim smile flickering across his lips, but there was no warmth in it. "Why didn’t you?"

She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

"I… I don’t know," she muttered finally, her gaze falling back to her hands. "I didn’t think they’d believe me."

"And you think they would’ve believed me?" His voice darkened, each word cutting deeper. "A stranger? A Northman from a clan they refuse to acknowledge still exists?"

Her stomach twisted. He was right. Even if they’d both tried to tell the truth, it wouldn’t have mattered. They were marked - her as the cursed, and him as an outsider.

“They would have hung us both,” he said, his tone flat. “Their minds were already made up about you, and even the truth wouldn’t have changed that.” His voice dropped, quieter but laced with a certain sharpness. “What I did was the only choice I had. If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be preparing for the trials. You’d be rotting in a shallow grave, a blade buried deep in your belly.”

His words struck a nerve, and she clenched her fists.

"Would you have preferred I left you there to die?" His gaze bore into hers, daring her to say what she didn’t want to admit. “That I didn’t come to your aid?”

Her nails dug into her palms, frustration overwhelming. She wanted to say otherwise, but the truth lodged itself in her throat like a jagged stone. If he hadn’t intervened, she wouldn’t have survived. Baldr’s men would’ve torn her apart, and if not, the villagers would’ve finished the job with their so - called justice.

"Why did you save me in the forest?" she asked finally, her voice barely holding steady. She was so tired, so weary from the events of the past two days, and her wounds - yet she couldn’t fade now. She needed to hold her awareness, she couldn't be found vulnerable with him in her midst without knowing the truth.

He didn’t answer immediately. His amber eyes flickered with something unreadable - hesitation, or something else she couldn’t decipher.

“How could I not?" he said at last, his voice low, almost reluctant. " You were defenseless, your magic had incapacitated you completely." He stepped closer, his movements measured and careful as he approached. Sylvie held her ground, though her heart thundered in her chest.

“It is not the way of the Hazier to be a bystander.”

His words carried an unfamiliar weight, and for the first time, Sylvie saw something beyond the wildness in his gaze. There was conviction there - hard and determined.

She searched his eyes, his honeyed gaze luminous in the dim light -could she trust him?

Her mind screamed against it.

No one offered help freely - especially not to someone like her. Help always came with strings, and those strings could easily twist into nooses.

Yet here he stood, coming to her aid yet again.

He had saved her. Despite her mark, despite everything she was, he had pulled her back from the brink. Without him, she would have succumbed to a fate far crueler.

He sighed, the sound weighted, as though he could sense her hesitation, her resistance.

“If I wished you harm,” he said gruffly, his voice rough but steady, “I wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble.” He stepped back slightly, his body language shifting to give her space, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his frustration.

She flinched, torn between self - preservation and something deeper she couldn’t yet name. There was something in his gaze - an ember of truth that flickered in the darkness between them. Against all reason, she felt the stirrings of trust, a fragile thread pulling her toward him.

“I am here only to help you,” he muttered, his tone softer now, though it held an edge of impatience. “If you’ll let me.”

Her throat tightened, but her gaze lingered.

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