A night most unsettled

She could feel her body surrendering to exhaustion, her limbs heavy beneath the weight of the day, but her mind refused to follow. It ran in dizzying circles, replaying every second before the knock on their door. The sudden nearness, the brush of his fingers, the sharp, unspoken things that hung in the silence between their breaths—was it just the heat of the moment, or something more? A fragile ache stirred in her chest, too soft to be named but impossible to ignore. Was she beginning to feel something tender for him?

Turning to face him fully, she studied Devlin's sleeping face. It was vastly different now—softer, unguarded. In sleep, the hardened lines of responsibility and restraint melted away. The crease between his brows had smoothed, and his lips, usually set in a firm line, were relaxed. Vulnerability touched him here in a way she never saw while he was awake, and something in her tightened at the sight. He looked younger like this, almost painfully human. She felt that tight thread between them shift, stretch—it hadn't broken, not yet—but it hummed with a new kind of tension.

A lock of his hair had fallen across his brow, soft and dark against the pale of his skin. Without thinking, she reached out, meaning only to tuck it gently back—just a small, quiet gesture. But the moment her fingers brushed his cheek, everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Devlin's eyes snapped open.

In a blur, he seized her wrist and, in the same motion, rolled over her, pinning her to the bed beneath him. The breath shot from her lungs with the suddenness of it, her heart thundering in her chest as she stared up at him. His face hovered just inches from hers, shadowed with a sharpness that hadn't been there moments before. His eyes were wild with sleep and something else—something feral and frighteningly alert.

Then, just as quickly, he blinked. His grip loosened, and he pulled away, backing off as though burned. "I—Edeana, I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to—"

He faltered, clearly searching for words, but none came. His breath was ragged, his hands trembling slightly.

She just stared at him, stunned, her chest still rising and falling too quickly. "It's fine," she managed to say, but her thoughts churned. That hadn't been a reflex born of fear. That had been training.

Reflexes like that didn't belong to a steward-in-training.

She thought of Mr. Kellies—older, yes, but still a steward all the same. Even at his fittest, he wouldn't have reacted like that, especially not seconds after waking. She'd played pranks before, loud ones—startling shouts or the clatter of fallen books—and the best he'd managed was a startled gasp and a hand to his chest.

But Devlin? Devlin had moved like a man trained to react regardless of the situation. A reflex more fitting for a soldier than a steward.

Silence lingered between them, the stillness broken only by the sound of their breathing—hers, uneven and quick; his, steadying by slow degrees. Devlin raked a hand through his tousled hair, then cast her a glance touched with rueful amusement, a lopsided, self-effacing smile ghosting across his lips.

"Well," he said at last, his tone light with deliberate effort, "I daresay I've experienced gentler awakenings."

Edeana, still gathering herself, allowed the smallest of smiles to surface. "Then I shall make every effort to remain dutifully confined to my side of the bed."

He turned his head toward her, one brow lifting, his mouth tugging at the corner. "You're taking this rather well—for someone who was very nearly flattened."

"One of my many redeeming qualities," she replied, her voice a touch dry.

Devlin gave a soft laugh, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary. "Tell me," he said, more gently now, "is sleep proving elusive tonight?"

She swallowed, unsure how to respond. The question had been so gently spoken, yet it touched on something vulnerable inside her, something she had carefully avoided examining too closely.

"I find," she said after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper, "that rest eludes me when the heart is unsettled."

Devlin turned his head slightly, studying her with quiet attentiveness. "And is it unsettled, your heart?"

She hesitated, then offered a faint smile—one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Wouldn't yours be?"

His mouth curved, though it was not quite a smile. "Frequently. Though I've grown skilled at pretending otherwise."

There was a flicker of shared amusement, but it faded almost as quickly as it came. The quiet between them shifted again—not empty, but full of something unspoken and uncertain.

"I fear I've unsettled you further," he said softly.

Edeana shook her head. "No. Not in the way you think."

Their eyes met again. His hand, resting near hers on the coverlet, inched ever so slightly closer.

"I don't quite know what to do with you," she confessed, the words tumbling out before she could measure them. "You confound me."

He laughed, low and warm. "That seems only fair. You've been confounding me since the moment we met."

She looked at him, startled, and then found herself laughing too—a soft, surprised sound that melted some of the tightness in her chest.

After a moment, he said, more gently, "May I confess something foolish?"

She nodded, her voice caught somewhere behind her ribs. "Yes."

"When I woke just now," he began, eyes still on hers, "I didn't know where I was. But the moment I saw you… I felt safe."

A breath hitched in her throat. She hadn't expected that. She didn't know how to hold it.

"That isn't foolish," she whispered.

Devlin's gaze dropped to their hands again, so near they were nearly touching.

"Edeana," he said quietly. "If this—whatever it is—troubles you, I will keep my distance."

Before she could gather her thoughts, the distant sound of hooves echoed through the night. The noise was faint at first, but it grew louder, a familiar rhythm of horses approaching.

Edeana frowned, glancing toward the window. "Do you hear that?"

Devlin stood up, his brow furrowing. "I do. It sounds like more than one rider."

They both moved toward the window, and Devlin pushed the curtains aside. The moonlight cast a pale sheen over the snow-covered ground, but the figures approaching were still hard to make out in the distance.

"What do you suppose that could be?" Edeana murmured, her heart quickening with the sudden unease in her chest.

Devlin's gaze narrowed. "We'll find out soon enough."

They both dressed hurriedly, pulling on their coats as the sound of the approaching riders grew closer. There was something in the air, something unfamiliar, that made Edeana's skin prickle. The normally quiet inn was now alive with the heavy weight of anticipation.

A knock at the door echoed through the room, sharp and insistent.

Edeana's breath caught in her throat. She turned to Devlin, her eyes wide with unease.

Devlin motioned for her to stay back as he moved toward the door, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. The door creaked open, revealing three men standing in the hallway, cloaked in the deep blue uniform of a royal soldier. The insignia on their chest shimmered faintly in the firelight.

The man in the front scanned the room until his eyes landed on Devlin. His eyes widened with recognition before he swiftly bowed and said, "Your Royal Highness."