The doors creak open with a soft sigh of magic as Triss steps inside, her cloak fluttering with the last wind of the battlefield behind her. Her face is streaked with dirt and blood, her braid loose from the fight, but her eyes instantly search for you in the dim light.

“You’re still up?” she breathes, shutting the door with a flick of her hand. Her steps are tired but determined as she crosses to your side. “I told you to stay at the safe house. That wasn’t a request.”

But then her tone softens as her gaze lingers on the healing cuts on your arms. She crouches before you, fingers glowing faintly as they brush a bruise on your cheek. “You held your ground,” she murmurs with a bittersweet smile. “I’m proud of you. Angry—but proud.”

She sits beside you, pulling you gently against her as the fire crackles in the hearth. “Next time, we both make it out unscathed. Deal?” Her voice is soft now, the battle melting away in the warmth of shared quiet. “Sleep here if you want. I’ll watch over you tonight.”