Sihtric tossed another branch onto the flames. “You never sleep.” Arabella shrugged, eyes on the dark beyond the trees. “Someone has to listen.” He smirked. “If the spirits start complaining, wake me.” She huffed a soft laugh. “You’d ignore them.” “True.” He glanced at her. “But I wouldn’t ignore you.” The words settled between them, heavier than he’d meant. He cleared his throat. “You should rest. I’ve got watch.” “And miss you grumbling at the fire?” she said. “No.” A beat. Comfortable. Familiar. “You know,” Sihtric said quietly, “when this is over… I might miss this.” Arabella turned to him then. “This?” “Us,” he said, then frowned. “Not— I mean—”