Page 63 of Unravelled
The morning chill had never quite lifted, and as the sun dipped lower, the air grew even cooler, the scent of brine and damp earth seeping through the carriage windows. Mira sat next to Tharion whose legs stretched out across the cabin. She could still hear the echo of Miller’s voice, the weight of her words settling into herchest like a stone. The carriage rocked gently, the rhythm of the wheels against the dirt road steady, almost soothing. Tharion watched out the window, his mind likely working through his own calculations, his own thoughts.
Mira exhaled, shifting slightly, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The weight of the last few days pressed down on her, heavy, unrelenting.
Tharion must have noticed because his eyes flicked to hers. “You should rest.”
The warmth of the carriage, the rocking motion, the faint sound of horses’ hooves against the road, it pulled at her like a tide. Slowly, Mira shifted, settling close to him, but not too close. Tharion didn’t move. Didn’t shift away. He adjusted just enough to make sure she had room.
Mira didn’t mean to let her head tilt just slightly onto his shoulder, but the weight of exhaustion dragged her down.
???
The cold didn’t bite so much as melt around her, softened by the hush of snow and pine. Winter had laid its weight over the forest, quiet and deep, but it barely touched her. Not with his hand in hers. Warm. Familiar. Anchoring her even as the world grew surreal.
Mira moved through the trees like she was half-remembering the path, guiding them forward, breath silvering in the air. Each step felt softer than the last, like walking through the pages of a memory, unfolding with each heartbeat.
“We’re almost there,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure how she knew. The trees parted all at once.
Steam curled from the earth, thick and silken, rising off water that shimmered with faint, impossible light. The hidden springs. Moonlight kissed the surface, and the snow glowed around it like frost-laced glass. Mira turned to him, something slow and knowing pulling at her lips.
“Still think I was lying?” she teased.
He didn’t answer with words. Only with a look. Like he saw her entirely and had no idea what to do with the truth of it. She let her cloak fall, fabric spilling into the snow without sound. The cold touched her skin. The forest held its breath. She glanced back at him, that familiar dare behind her eyes. Her fingers found the straps of her dress, sliding them down her shoulders like un-spooling silk. Her skin caught the moonlight and her heartbeat drummed slow and steady, like it was echoing from the trees themselves.
She paused again. Let him feel it. Let herself feel it. The moment stretched, timeless and fragile.
“Something wrong?” she asked, voice like the ripple of water.
“You’re stalling,” came his reply, half-laugh, half-prayer.
She smiled, letting the dress fall. The air caught it and carried it into the snow. She stepped into the water, slow and weightless, like slipping into a dream. It wrapped around her. Welcomed her.
“You coming in?” she called over her shoulder. “Or just going to watch me disappear?”
The sound of footsteps. Fabric hitting snow. The hush of water stirred. Then he was there. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel. Like a second current beneath the surface. Mira turned, and the world narrowed. “Not bad, is it?” she said, voice softer now, more breath than sound.
His answer came slowly, like it had traveled far.
“The view’s...captivating.” She floated toward him. The water licked at her skin, steam curling over her shoulders. When she reached him, she didn’t touch him, just stopped, inches apart.
“You’re staring again.” His hand brushed against her thigh.
“Can’t help it.” He murmured.
“You should stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.
“Like what?” he teased.
“Like you’re going to devour me.” The air shifted. And then his hands were on her waist, pulling her in, grounding her with impossible gentleness. The kiss came like a slow tide, warm, enveloping, undoing. She folded into it.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, bodies moving as if they’d always belonged to this rhythm, this heat, this moment suspended in silence. He groaned against her lips, low and reverent, his hands dragging across her skin like he was memorizing her by feel alone.
“Reckless,” she breathed. His reply was a whisper against her jaw.
“With you... always.” She shivered. The world disappeared into steam. There was only water and warmth and the echo of breath. The hush of the trees. The Navigators above.
???
Mira barely stirred as the carriage rolled to a stop. The distant creak of wheels, the muffled voices beyond the door, they all felt far away, submerged in the heavy warmth of sleep. Steady arms lifted her. A scent wrapped around her, familiar even through the haze. She shifted slightly, her cheek brushing against his shoulder, but exhaustion kept her limbs heavy, her body pliant in his hold.
