Tessa POV
The sun had barely risen.
A pale light spilled across the camp, soft and golden, trying to wash away the ash that still clung to every tent, every bootprint, every memory. But the ground didn’t forget. And neither did I.
I stood just outside the tent, my fingers tight on the leather straps of my pack. Behind me, Dorian hadn’t moved. Not much. Not since I stepped away from the bed and began dressing quietly in the dim light.
He leaned against the central post now, arms crossed, shirt half-buttoned, hair a dark mess of sleep and war. Watching me like he might memorize the way I tied my boots.
“Say something,” I said quietly.
He pushed off the post. Closed the distance between us in three strides. His hands settled on my hips - not pulling, not holding. Just… there. Warm. Real.
“You know I hate this,” he murmured.
“I know.”
“But you have to go.”
“I do.”
His jaw tensed, the muscle in his cheek twitching once. “Take Rylan. Galen. Five more - you pick them yourself.”
“I already di
