CHAPTER 85

JARRETT'S POV

We didn't go back to the shrine that night.

After the ledger turned to ash, Helena just... kept walking, down the ridge, past the empty rink and past the fires the packs were building.

"Where are we going?" I asked. My ribs were fine, better than fine even. But I was still watching her like she might crack.

"Somewhere quiet," she said. "Somewhere Where no one will be watching us."

She led me to the old cabin.

It was half-buried in snow, up the east slope. It used to be a ranger post before the treaty and before everything. The door was swollen shut.

She put her shoulder to it, she didn't use magical aid, just her strength. It groaned open and she pushed the door all the way.

Cold air and dust hit us instantly, it was one room with a bed, one hearth, a table and two chairs.

It smelled like pine and old smoke.

Helena shut the door behind us and leaned against it. Like she was finally allowed to be tired.

"You're limping," she said.

"I'm not." I argued.

"You are." She crossed the room and pushed me, gently, down into one of the chairs. Then she crouched in front of me, placing her hands gently onto my knees.

"Let me look at your leg," she said to me.

I should've said no, I should've argued that I was fine, Instead I nodded.

She peeled back the collar of my shirt. Her fingers were cold from the walk. They brushed the new scar on my chest and I jerked.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be."

She traced it in one slow line, she didn't try to heal me this time, she was just... touching me.

"You scared me today," she said. "With the ledger. When you went quiet."

"I was thinking," I said. "About what he wrote and about the anchor."

"And?" She arched her brow.

"And I don't care." I caught her wrist and held it. "If I was bred to keep you alive, then I'm glad. Because it means I get to."

Her eyes went wet, they looked more human than they've ever been.

"That's a stupid thing to say," she said.

"Probably."

She stood up and moved to the hearth. There was dry wood stacked there. She got a fire going with two strikes of flint without using any magic.

The room went orange.

When she turned back, she was biting her lip nervously. Helena never looked nervous.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know how to do this," she said.

"Do what?"

"This." She gestured between us. "Without a war. Without a prophecy. Without someone trying to kill us. I know how to be a Crown-Bearer. I know how to be a weapon. I don't know how to be... this."

She looked wrecked saying it.

I stood up slowly without my ribs screaming.

"Then we figure it out," I said. "Together. Same team, remember?"

I stepped in front of her close enough that the fire warmed both of us.

"Can I?" I asked. It was a stupid question but I needed her to say it.

She nodded.

I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her skin was warm now from the fire.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," she said back.

And then I kissed her, not like the way I'd done it on the ice though, I didn't kiss her desperately because I was trying to prove anything.

It was a soft kiss just to see if she tasted like winter and smoke. And she did.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat and her hands came up to my chest. She was careful of the scar. Then not be careful. Then fisting in my shirt like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.

I pulled back an inch. "Too much?"

"Not enough," she said. And kissed me again.

This time it was her who pushed me back into the chair.

She straddled my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she'd been thinking about it.

Her forehead dropped to mine.

"Jarrett," she breathed.

"Yeah?"

"If this is a mistake -"

"It's not," I said. "The only mistake was waiting this long."

She laughed against my mouth.

We stayed like that. Not doing much. Just kissing and learning each other.

Her hands in my hair. Mine at her waist, under the leathers. She shivered when I touched bare skin.

"The fire's warm," she murmured.

"You're warmer."

She pulled back to look at me. Her cheeks were red, but I couldn't tell if it was from me, the fire or the cold.

"You were supposed to be my assignment," she said.

"You were supposed to be my target."

"Good thing we're both bad at following orders."

I smiled. "Terrible."

She leaned down and kissed the scar on my chest, right over my heart.

It just hurt less.

"I don't want to be queen tonight," she whispered.

"Then don't be."

"I don't want to be the Crown."

"You're not."

"I just want to be Helena," she said. "With you."

"Then be her."

She nodded just once and then she kissed me again, deeper this time. Like she was memorizing me.

We didn't make it to bed. We made it to the floor in front of the fire. Her leathers ended up in a pile. Mine too.

It wasn't fast. It wasn't frantic.

It was slow and careful, like we had all the time in the world and none of it at the same time.

When she gasped my name, it wasn't Crown-voice, It was just her.

When I pulled her against me, it wasn't because a prophecy said I had to.

It was because I wanted to.

After, we lay tangled in a blanket by the fire. Her head on my chest. My hand in her hair.

The cabin was quiet except for the crackle and our breathing.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Mm," she hummed. "Better than okay."