Julian
The silence that followed his outburst was heavy, thick enough to choke. Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to burn through me, assessing, judging, calculating whether I was a threat or just another mistake dragged in from the outside world.
Ignes crossed her arms, jaw tight, her fiery hair catching the glow of the fire as if it might ignite. "Unbelievable," she muttered, pacing a few steps before pivoting toward me.
A woman stepped forward from the back of the room.She was tall, calm, chocolate curls framing a face too steady for the chaos around her. Her hands were stained green and brown from crushed herbs. "That's enough, Ignes," she said quietly, but with authority. "If he's tied to her, he stays. We don't need more noise."
Ignes shot her a sharp look but didn't argue. Instead she turned away, muttering something I couldn't quite catch, something about "mortals" and "trouble." Beneath the venom there was a flicker of fear.
The dark-haired woman knelt beside Asteria and began working with practiced precision. "My name is Orin," she said without looking up. "If you care for her as much as it seems, stay out of my way."
I nodded because I couldn't bring myself to speak. My throat felt raw and my heart hammered so hard it hurt. I watched Orin open a small pouch and spread its contents across the low table: leaves, roots, powders that gave the air a strange, electric scent. She crushed a few pieces between her palms and muttered under her breath until the scent thickened, filling the space with something almost alive.
Then Asteria whimpered.
Orin froze, eyes widening. "I can't believe it…" she breathed, voice barely more than a ghost. "She's… stabilizing."
The room tightened around that word. "Ignes," Orin said, glancing up. "She's waking."
The fire answered, crackling louder, like it too had sensed the shift.
Ignes moved before any of us, ropes already in hand, an expression that held dread and grim determination. Without thinking, I pushed forward.
I stepped forward without thinking. "Wait, don't—"
Hands closed on me before I could get farther than the first step. Strong, efficient hands grabbed my shoulders, pinned my arms. More hands held my legs and chest against the wooden floor. The ropes were woven quickly, practiced, and I felt the rough hemp cut into my wrists before my mind had fully registered it.
"Let me go!" I snarled, twisting, but they were efficient and practiced. "She needs me!"
"She'll hurt you if you interfere," one of them hissed, breath cool against my ear despite the heat in the room.
"I don't care!" I spat. The bindings scraped into my skin. "She needs me!"
"She needs restraint," Ignes snapped, voice steel. She knelt and looped a rope around Asteria's wrists with methodical care, tying knots that were secure but not cruel. "You have no idea what you're in the middle of."
Asteria stirred again, lips parting on a small, broken sound that silenced the room.Then her eyes opened.
For a moment, everything stopped, breath, sound, thought. Her gaze was raw, confused, pained, scared. Everyone took a step back, waiting for something I couldn't name. My sweet love's eyes found mine and filled with tears in an instant. She began to tremble, and every fiber of me wanted to wrench free of the ropes and scoop her up, but the women's grip was like iron.
"What's happening?" she asked, voice cracking. "Who are you people?"
My heart dropped into my gut watching the realization wash over her. She fought, wild and desperate, and the ropes held. The women exchanged glances and moved with the efficiency I'd seen only in soldiers or surgeons.
Whispers slid through the air, half instructions, half worry. I studied each exchange like a student learning a new language. Every glance, every pause was a clue. These were not common kidnappers.
I forced myself still because a single rash movement would make them tighten the bindings. Instead I watched Asteria: every twitch of her fingers, every shudder of her body. Orin's fingers were careful, her touch oddly tender as she applied salves and placed tiny bundles of herb at precise points along Asteria's temples and wrists. Candles were lit in a slow ceremonial arc. Ignes knelt with chalk and traced symbols on the floor, the lines sharp and precise. The others moved to form a ring, daggers hanging at their belts like silent promises, faces hard but not cruel.
The room seemed to pulse with a quiet energy, the air thick with anticipation. I forced myself to breathe slow, to memorize rhythm and position. Every movement, every whispered instruction, was purposeful. It wasn't chaos, they were preparing something, and I felt the weight of it pressing down, making my chest tighten as I watched, tense and helpless. Every glance the women exchanged seemed loaded with meaning.
I tried to memorize everything, to anticipate their next move. The ropes cut into my wrists, but I ignored the pain. My mind ran a constant loop: ways to distract them, ways to grab Asteria, ways to survive. Every second counted. Every second they focused on her was a second I had to learn their rhythm, their pattern, their weaknesses.
And then I saw him.
He stood framed in the doorway, his presence like a living shadow. His eyes scanned every movement, calculating, unblinking, as if nothing in the room escaped him. The energy around him pulsed, subtle but undeniable. His stillness was more threatening than any shout, more commanding than the sharpest knife. His eyes never left Asteria. They tracked the smallest muscle in her cheek, the way her chest rose and fell, the faint tremor in her fingers. It wasn't just observation, it was something deeper, unnerving, almost intimate.
There was something other than curiosity in the way he looked. Possessiveness, yes, but also a strange, aching need, and beneath that, a cold anger that steadied his features into something even more dangerous.
Rage flared red-hot inside me. Every second his eyes lingered on her was a blow; every small tilt of his head was a claim. I wanted to tear him from that doorway and make him pay for daring to to even look at her that way.
His eyes lifted to meet mine once, slow, assessing, and that single look took the breath out of me. He measured me, saw how fierce I would be, how far I might go.
He didn't flinch. He smiled, one of those little, dismissive smiles that said he had already won whatever game I hadn't even known we were playing. The smile made my fury spike higher, a living thing coiling in my chest.
But beneath the heat of anger there was a hard, cold knowledge. I was powerless in that moment. I had to play it smart.
Still, watching him watch her burned me. He had no right. Not to look at her like that; not to linger on the curve of her mouth, the line of her collarbone, as if he were mapping the permission to hurt. I could feel my jaw ache from clenching. My fists tightened until the ropes creaked.
Asteria's gaze flicked to me and something in it shifted: a trembling thread of recognition, fear, trust. She mouthed something I couldn't hear, and in that movement, my world narrowed to a single task. No matter what, I would keep her safe. I would learn their rhythm, their weakness, even if it meant watching and waiting until I found the one crack I could shove my hand through. My chest constricted with something fierce and final. I thought of all the small ordinary things about her: the way she chewed her lip when concentrating, the laugh that started soft and then broke into something loud and bright, the way she smelled of sandalwood and rain. Those minute truths hardened into a promise I felt in my bones.
I would not let anything happen to her. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
So I watched. I memorized every step, every whisper, every placement of herb and candle. I listened to the cadence of Orin's voice, the short, sharp commands of Ignes. I catalogued the room, the loose stones near the fireplace, the oil cloth on the low table, the single candlestick knocked slightly askew on the mantle. I counted, again and again all the seconds that were passing, with the promise that I would not let this be the end.