Page 21 of Returned to the Vissigroth
I was sure Daphne didn't realize it, but her body relaxed back into mine as she sighed. Her scarf had slipped again, her cheeks flushed from the wind and the steady rhythm of the ride. Islid down the nicta first, then reached up to help her down. I was ready for her when she swayed into my arms. She laughed nervously. "My legs feel like rubber."
"Here," I helped her to a large rock that someone had flattened a long time ago. Many people traveled this road, and we were far from the first to use this spot as a camp during the night. Not as regularly as the ridge, but enough that someone had taken the time to make this rock into a makeshift chair.
"Thank you." She stretched her legs in front of her while looking at the rapidly rushing water. "I should be taking a walk," She argued.
"You will, when you're ready," I predicted.
The dragoons and servants knew what to do; two peeled off toward the riverbank to scout, while others began unpacking gear. Within minutes, a perimeter had been marked and a small fire pit cleared beneath the trees.
I turned to find Daphne standing by the water’s edge, watching the moonlight shimmer on the surface. The breeze toyed with her hair, loose now from the ride, framing her in gold and shadows.
She looked like she belonged in this world again. Not as a ghost, but as something reborn.
“Are you cold?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Just thinking.”
I didn't have to wait long for her to elaborate, “Everything feels familiar and foreign at the same time,” she said. “Like I’m dreaming it. Like I’ve stood on this riverbank before… but in a different life.”
“You have,” I said quietly. “More than once.”
Her eyes met mine in the fading light. For a moment, something passed between us. The flicker of a spark. I stepped closer. Not to touch her. Just to stand near enough that she could feel I was there, steady and unmoving, if she needed me.
“We’ll camp here tonight,” I told her. “It’s not ideal. But it’s safe enough.”
“Safe enough,” she echoed, glancing toward the mountains. “Is that a Leander or a warrior thing?”
“A little bit of both.”
Her smile faded, but her gaze stayed steady. “You’re worried?”
“I always am. When it comes to you.”
She didn’t answer that. Behind us, the fire cracked to life. The night settled around us in layers, cool and thick, whispering things I didn’t quite understand. The air was filled with the aroma of roasting meat and fresh vegetables. I always loved the simple fare we had camping out.
The scent of smoke and spice drifted toward us, comforting in its familiarity. One of the younger dragoons—a quiet male named Sareth—handed Daphne and me our bowls. I nodded my thanks and gestured toward the large flat rock she'd sat on earlier. But she didn’t return to it. Instead, she turned and walked toward the circle of dragoons already seated near the fire, bowls in hand, laughing quietly among themselves.
I watched as she paused at the edge. Said something light. They shifted instantly, making room without question. She settled between them like she’d done it a hundred times. Like she belonged.
She always had that gift.
Even before.
Talking to strangers like they were long-lost kin. Finding the rhythm of any room without effort. It had always fascinated me how easily she softened others, how they leaned toward her without realizing it. Now it just made me ache.
I sat alone on the stone with my food, but barely tasted it. My eyes stayed fixed on her.
They were talking about nictas now, someone cracked a joke about saddle rash, and she laughed; the sound was warm and familiar in a way that gutted me. One of the males handed her a flask of warmed stormroot wine, and she bestowed a smile on him that would have melted metal. I stiffened with jealousy. I wanted to be the recipient of that smile, but I stayed where I was, not wanting to interrupt this moment for her.
After a while, she rose and walked back toward me, cheeks flushed, eyes soft.
“That was nice,” she said. “They’re funny.”
“They’re terrified of you.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because some of them have been with me long enough to remember the way you used to put them in their place with a single look.”
