I woke slowly.
Not the way I usually did in Gyra, heart pounding, breath sharp, body braced for whatever waited outside the door.
This was different.
Warmth.
Weight.
Breathing that wasn’t mine.
For a moment, I didn’t move. I didn’t even open my eyes. I just listened.
Her breath.
Soft.
Steady.
Pressed against my chest like she’d been breathing with me all night.
The bond hummed low and warm, like it was still half‑asleep too.
I opened my eyes.
Sahora was curled against me, her forehead tucked under my chin, her hand resting lightly against my ribs. My arm was still around her, my palm against the bare skin of her back where her undershirt had ridden up in the night.
I froze, not out of fear, but out of awe.
She hadn’t moved away.
She hadn’t flinched.
She hadn’t put the armor back on.
She’d stayed.
You’re awake, she murmured through the bond, her thoughts soft and blurred with sleep.
Yeah, I answered. Didn’t mean to wake you.
You didn’t.
Her thought brushed mine like a warm hand. I just… felt you shift.
I swallowed hard.
Her voice in my mind like that, quiet, unguarded, it did something to me I didn’t have words for.
“You slept,” I whispered aloud, because I needed to hear it in the air.
She didn’t lift her head. “You did too.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I didn’t think I would.”
“Me neither.”
Her fingers curled slightly against my side, not pulling away — anchoring.
The bond pulsed once, slow and warm, as it approved.
I shifted just enough to see her face. Her hair was a mess, her cheek creased from my shirt, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She looked… young. Not in age, in peace.
Like the world hadn’t been trying to kill us yesterday.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
She nodded against me. “Your hand is warm.”
I felt my face heat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
A pause.
It helped me sleep.
The bond tightened around my ribs, gentle but sure, like it was echoing her words.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
I didn’t know what to do with any of this.
So I just held her.
Not tighter.
Not possessively.
Just enough that she knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
Outside the door, Castor shifted, the soft scrape of boots on stone.
Still keeping watch.
Still giving us this moment.
Sahora breathed in, slow and deep, her body relaxing again.
We should get up, she sent, though she didn’t move.
Probably, I answered, though I didn’t either.
Another breath.
Another pulse of the bond.
Then, quietly, like she wasn’t sure she meant to send it:
Thank you for staying.
I closed my eyes.
I always will.
And for one more heartbeat, one more breath, we stayed exactly like that.
She stirred, sitting up. “Castor should try to rest while we are awake.”
My hand had slipped from her back to just below the small of her back, a place I was sure I wasn’t allowed. I tried to pull back, but she pulled on the bond.
I don't mind. She told me.
My heart was beating in my ears. I didn’t pull away but she did stand pulling her shirt down and turning to me. “I should probably wear something that isn’t covered in blood…” She looked around the room uselessly.
“Let me,” I got up stumbling forward. “Let me find you something else to wear.” I rushed to the door, pulled it open only to be met with Castor's stern face. I looked up at him. “I gotta go find clothes,” I mumbled and ran down the hall.
I found something.
Eventually.
It took longer than it should have. My hands kept shaking, and every time I tried to focus, the memory of her warmth against me pulled my thoughts apart. I grabbed the first set of clean clothes I could find in the storage room. A soft tunic. Dark trousers. Nothing fancy. Nothing that would irritate her wound.
I held them too tightly as I walked back. My pulse was still loud in my ears. The bond hummed faintly, as if it were trying to settle me and failing.
When I reached the door, I stopped.
I could hear her inside. Moving quietly. Breathing steady. The sound made something in my chest loosen and tighten at the same time.
I knocked once, even though I didn’t need to. Then I pushed the door open.
Sahora looked up.
She was standing near the bed, her undershirt pulled straight now, her hair a little messy from sleep. She looked… softer. Not unguarded. Not vulnerable. Just softer in a way I had never seen.
I held out the clothes like an offering. “I found these.”
She stepped closer. Her eyes flicked to my hands, then to my face. The bond between us warmed, quiet and steady.
“Thank you,” she said.
I nodded, because speaking felt impossible for a moment. My throat was too tight. My heart was still trying to understand that she had woken up in my arms and had not pulled away.
She reached for the clothes. Her fingers brushed mine. Light. Barely there. Enough to send a pulse through the bond that made my breath catch.
She felt it too. I saw the way her eyes softened.
I cleared my throat. “They should fit. Or close enough.”
“They will,” she said.
She didn’t move away immediately. She stood there, close enough that I could feel her warmth, close enough that the bond hummed like it remembered the night before.
I forced myself to step back. “I can wait outside while you change.”
Her gaze held mine for a moment longer than necessary. “All right.”
I turned toward the door, but before I reached it, her thought brushed mine.
You came back fast.
I swallowed.
I did not want you waiting.
A quiet warmth spread through the bond. Not words. Not emotion. Something deeper.
I stepped into the hall and closed the door behind me, leaning back against the stone for a moment, trying to steady my breathing.
Inside, I heard her moving. Soft. Calm. Safe.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something like hope settle in my chest.