Page 140 of Brambles and Bellflowers
And I would have. But it helped to have the confirmation. Even more importantly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were tired?” I asked. “We could’ve set up camp.”
He studied my face, fingers quietly undoing the bindings at our wrists. His voice was hesitant. “That doesn’t matter. I’m more concerned that you’re hurting.” His brows drew together. “Even more than I realized. I’m trying to shoulder it now—at least a little. But why haven’t you said anything?”
“Oh…” I blinked and instinctively pulled back, breaking our contact. He frowned as my breathing shifted, and the strange, lulling haze began to clear. My limbs felt lighter. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’m fine.”
He caught my hand before I could pull away completely. My breath caught.
“Rest now,” he said. His voice was soft but threaded with something older, deeper. His eyes darkened with that same ancient weight I’d glimpsed before. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
That was…
My headache eased. The tight knot in my stomach unraveled.
“I—I am sleepy,” I murmured. A gentle fog crept in behind my eyes. That fight with Miles must’ve taken more out of me than I’d thought. “I want to…”
My knees gave out.
But I didn’t fall—Miles caught me before I could hit the ground.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”
And that was the last thing I heard before sleep took me.
23
A feather-light touchbrushed my cheek, disturbing my rest and pulling me from sleep. My bed was warm and pliant, and the light scent of freshly turned dirt stimulated my senses.
However, despite the comfortable surroundings, my stomach twisted, and my heart raced. Considering the environment—it was clear we were outside—the worst possible situation might be at hand.
A bug had just crawled across my face.
Disgusting.
It moved again, scurrying over my cheek, and my eyes flew open. I rolled to my side, swiping at my face. But there was nothing, thankfully, as the only things that fell from my bed were crushed leaves and twigs.
I blinked at them, trying to string together the events of the past few hours.
Our bonding ceremony had exhausted me, and I’d been moved into a makeshift bed of leaves at some point. Considering that, it’d be a miracle if a bughadn’tcrawled over me.
A low chuckle broke through my inner tirade, and my hand paused at the back of my neck, where I’d begun pulling twigsout of my braid. For a moment, I was five years old again. I was alone in an unfamiliar forest and unexplainably exhausted.
But then I turned, spotting Miles sitting cross-legged, not five feet from my head. His mouth quirked apologetically—almost shyly—and he wiped his hand over his thigh.
My fears vanished, and my vision cleared.
“You had a spider on you.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “But I saved you.”
“Did you?” I asked. “Thank you…”
There was something strange about how he carried himself this morning—about his smile. There was a foreign air to him now, a self-assured posture and peaceful expression I’d never seen on him before.
Instantly, I knew.
Tu.
A chill shot down my spine, and my pulse began to race as I pressed my hands against my chest. “Miles?”
