And fly to the skies from your land
The thrill of it hits sharp and sweet when he sprawls into the snow, but it’s his laugh that catches me off guard.
It’s low and warm against the cold air, a sound I don’t remember well enough, and it steals my breath for a beat. Stoic, stone-faced Damien—smiling, laughing—and I’m the reason for it. My heart kicks harder, not just from the win but from the rare proof that I’d managed to crack something open in him. It feels like a small triumph, but there’s something deeper threaded through it, something I don’t want to examine too closely.
His “lesson one” makes my eyes sparkle. I plant my hands on my hips, tilting my chin at him. “That’s a point for me,” I say, a little breathless, “and yes, I’m keeping track.” There’s no mistaking the implication—this won’t be the last time we face off like this.
The air between us shifts, softer now, and we’re still looking at each other. His breath fogs the space between us, mingling with mine, and for a moment the sounds of the street fade. I catch myself wondering why his grin is rare enough to feel like a prize, why his laugh sounds like something pulled from deep water. I don’t know why he lets those things slip with me, but I like it—love it, even. And somewhere in the middle of that thought, I realize I’m not seeing him as a mentor anymore. The pull is different now. Not to follow him, but to stand beside him. Something in him rings true to me—maybe the hardship, maybe just the quiet resilience.
When he gathers both our belongings, I fall into step beside him, brushing the snow from my sleeves. “I’m pretty done with shadows until I need them,” I tell him, letting a small, certain smile tug at my lips. “The inn isn’t far.”
Then I tip my head, letting my tone turn lighter. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe from thugs and thieves.”
His eyes catch mine again, and something in them softens the cold night. I hold his gaze just a beat longer than I should before following him back into the streets, the glow of the braziers flickering over his shoulders, the bite of the air somehow less sharp with him beside me.
The land that you love and all that you are
