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It was over. She told herself that repeatedly, but the words refused to settle her racing heart. She glanced up at Evander and leaned against him.

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She had to focus on the fact that he was alive. Callum was dead; he would never hurt them again.

Evander was murmuring softly, obviously trying to calm her down. She didn’t say anything.

They were alive. That was the most important thing.

She was still here. Evander was still here, and the twins hadn’t been hurt. If Callum had been successful in convincing her to leave, she had no doubt that he would’ve gone after the twins, which terrified her.

But it was over.

Still, her heart kept pounding.

If she only knew what it wanted.

38

He took her to his chambers, and she didn’t argue.

He sat her down on the edge of the bed, and knelt in front of her.

For a long moment, he simply held her face between his hands and looked at her. Searching. As though he needed to count every part of her.

His forearm was still bleeding, a dark line soaking through his sleeve.

“Ye’re hurt,” she said.

“It’s nothing.”

“Evander, ye’re bleeding on me.”

“Then I’ll bleed.” He drew her forward and wrapped both arms around her, plaid and all, and held on.

She let him.

For a while, she simply stayed there with her face pressed against his neck, breathing in woodsmoke and sweat and the coppery tang of blood, and waited for the shaking to stop. It took longer than she’d have liked, but he didn’t let go once.

“Thank ye,” she whispered. “For coming.”

“Ye called.”

“Ye were already on the stairs. I heard ye.”

He didn’t answer that.

When at last her hands were steady, she drew back. She made herself sit up straight and wipe her face with the corner of his plaid, because she was Freya Muir, and she had not survived Callum’s blade only to fall apart on a bed.

“I’m all right,” she said. “Truly. Ye neednae pamper me.”

“I’ll pamper ye if I like.”

“Ye’ll nae.” Her voice sharpened, and she was glad of it, glad of anything that felt like solid ground. “Ye cannae do this, Evander. Ye cannae hold me like that and look at me like that, and then tell me ye’ve no intention of ever loving me. Ye told me plainly. I heard ye. So daenae confuse me further, because I cannae⁠—”

“It’s a bit late for that.”

She stopped. “What?”