All Chapters of Love's Healing Touch: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The shadows wrapped around them like a cloak as Adrian and Elara fled from the narrow street of the village, hearts pounding and lungs aflame. The moon far above in the sky cast silver light upon the trees, turning every branch and leaf into something otherworldly.Adrian's grip around Elara's wrist was fierce, his body heat holding her in place as fear seemed to try and take root. Behind them, the soft footsteps echoed through the air, whoever had been following behind didn't want to be noticed but weren't novice. "Don't turn around," Adrian was barely audible. "Back away.".Elara did not need to be persuaded. She had managed to catch the danger still lingering near in the air, like threads of smoke clinging to flesh. Whoever the darkness was, it had not arrived with mercy.They ran until lungs burned on a hacking gasp of air and quivering legs buckled, until curving, twisted slate roofs of the village vanished behind trees and enfolding stillness of the forest spread out before the

The next day dawned dark and quiet, the rain falling to a wispy mist that clung to cottage windows like a shroud. Elara was the first to awaken, waking to a squint through gray light as embers of the fire still flickered in the hearth. She strained to rise from the couch, the frayed blanket slithering down off of her shoulders, and gazed down at Adrian—out cold on the mat at her feet, his hand wedged under his head. She rose and regarded him for a very, very long time.He had slept younger. His angles softer. The peaks of his mourning, that he had worn hard, now softened themselves down to almost gentleness. Eyelashes on his cheekbones made a dark haven, and there was the rumpled tangled clump of black hair in this pillow on which his head lay last night.Elara moved quietly, not to wake him, when she moved quietly into the alcove kitchen and poured water from the kettle. The old stove creaked and spat with a patch of fire flame when Elara lit it. Raindrop and bird sang floated on bra

The sun came up in the morning, rising quietly into the cottage, pushing softly between the curtains as a quiet guest. Its warmth brushed softly in gold upon the wood floorboards and rested upon the two forms that were curled up on the couch—Adrian's arm around Elara's shoulder, her head resting lightly upon his chest. The fire had died down by evening, but the heat between them was an unspoken promise that neither of them was yet courageous enough to voice.Adrian went first. He blinked up at the ceiling, stunned at the quiet emptiness in his chest. The familiar pull of fear, of regret, was somehow absent. All that lingered was the soft sound of Elara's breathing, and the faint scent of herbs and old books that clung to her like a second cloak.His arm locked around her a bit involuntarily, and Elara moved, her eyelashes flicking up as she looked up at him."Morning," she answered, voice still husky from sleep."Morning," he answered, his deep voice a bit gritty.They didn't budge.E

The morning air was fresh with the scent of dew and wildflowers that clung to Elara's cloak as she emerged to saddle the old mare. Adrian stood in the doorway, his gaze scanning the horizon where the ridges of the mountains blended into the road that led off far out into the village.Years since he'd been in the city. Years since he'd drawn its air, walked its crowded streets, or spoken aloud the name of his family. But now, the thought of returning didn't make his stomach turn to acid. It made his heart beat faster—but not out of fear.With resolve.Elara shifted, brushing hair from her forehead. "She's ready."Adrian descended, shaking his coat around himself. "You are?"A faint smile quivered on her lips. "Only if you are."They mounted the horse and rode together, side by side, the little cottage they'd, over years, made something more than home. It was home—a haven. Beyond them, the wood became less dense, showing wider paths, open fields, and the muffled rumble of encroaching ci

The return trip to the village was in silence, not quiet, but in the peaceful way that it wrapped around you like a blanket. The thud of horse hooves on the earth road, the trill of birds out of sight flying over the cover above, and the wind's howl blowing through the leaves—everything mixed in a soothing symphony, showing the peace they both yearned for so desperately.Elara sat beside Adrian in the carriage, hands loosely locked in his. The city proper was now nothing more than a fantasied dream—the glittering corridors and aching memories enfolding them like a haze. What was left was the fleeting warmth of facing the past and clinging to the future.Adrian had spoken little since walking through the gates. He didn't need to. His silence wasn't choking, not anymore, when he'd walked in fear of being abandoned behind. His silence was more akin to thinking now. Gratitude. Healing.Elara's hold on his hand eased somewhat. "What do you think about?He stood in front of her, the corners