Chapter 24: Blair

                                    

                                          
The next two days in the forest pass in monotony and silence, a silence that sometimes feels stifling and, at other times, strangely calming. Brian and I survive by using every skill we possess and the dwindling remnants of stolen supplies. He tracks small animals through the underbrush and, after hours of patient effort, returns with rabbits. Each time I see him scaling trees with ease, scanning the surroundings, or silently venturing off to hunt, I can't help but wonder if I could have managed this alone.
We build a fire, and the scent of roasting meat fills the air. In these moments, when the forest seems to retreat and the crackling of flames becomes our only melody, I find myself feeling something like comfort with Brian. He always seems to know what to do. Even his sarcasm and sharp wit, which once grated on my nerves, now bring a strange sense of calm that I don't fully understand. I'm not used to relying on anyone except Sadie. That's why her decision to leave Ilya struck me so deeply. Unlike me, she found someone she could trust, someone she wanted to stay with—even if it meant leaving behind the life we'd known.
And Sadie had no desire to be part of palace intrigues.
Paedyn.
The name from the letter rises in my mind again and again. The looming weight of my father's order hangs over us like a storm cloud ready to break at any moment. I can sense that Brian doesn't believe I'm capable of carrying out the task, and his doubt only fuels my resolve to hide any weakness. Yet, when night falls and its dark shroud envelops us, I can't deny the unsettling peace I feel in his presence—too peaceful for the Trials.
On the night, the internal struggle within me grows fiercer. I sit by the fire while Brian ventures into the forest for another round of reconnaissance, and I feel something inside me tearing apart. I should be ready to carry out my father's order, but every hour spent near Brian makes me feel weaker. I've grown overly comfortable; his presence has become an inseparable part of my sense of calm. It's wrong.
When Brian returns, his steps soft against the carpet of fallen leaves, I sense him before I see his silhouette emerge in the firelight. He crouches near the flames, casting me a quick, assessing glance. I lift my head, searching his face for signs of exhaustion, but all I see is the faint smirk that always conceals far more than he's willing to reveal.
"I can take first watch, Miss Archer," he offers, tilting his head slightly.
"I'm fine," I reply curtly. He frowns, so I add, "You're on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. It's safer if I'm the one staring at trees."
"You're right," he agrees unexpectedly, and I catch the subtle curve of his lips in amusement. "Besides, you do enjoy staring."
His words come out in a low, almost purring tone, and I feel the heat creeping into my cheeks.
"You can keep your observations to yourself," I snap, trying to make my tone colder, but I can't quite suppress the faint smile tugging at my lips. He notices, of course, and looks pleased with himself.
"Good night, Miss Archer," he says with mock formality as he settles into his spot by the fire, stretching out languidly. "Try not to doze off while keeping watch."
He closes his eyes and his breathing gradually becomes even. The forest stirs around us with the whisper of leaves and the faint rustle of distant animals, but all of it fades into the background—my attention is drawn entirely to Brian. In the dim light of the dying fire, his features soften, the usual sharp edges blurring. At first, his face was hidden beneath the white mask of a guardsman, then behind the armor of sarcasm, but now I realize he seems almost... vulnerable.
And it strikes me as such an odd realization. Because Brian is, perhaps, the most self-assured person I have ever known.
"How can someone be so confident?" I wonder, studying his face while he's unaware of my gaze. He has always been a mystery to me, and now, stranded together in these Trials, my curiosity has only deepened.
I settle down beside him, my shoulder brushing his ever so lightly, and a shiver runs across my skin from the unintentional contact. My eyelids grow heavy, but I force them to remain open, searching for distraction in my thoughts. I think of Sadie, hoping she's safe and blissfully unaware of what lies ahead for me. I think of Braxton, who has surely already joined her, the two of them standing strong against the threats of this forest. And then I think of my father, the man who ordered me first to seduce a prince and then to kill one of the participants.
The weight of these thoughts is crushing, a silent pain that festers. I know I must steel myself, make a decision, take action. Yet, instead of moving forward, my focus drifts. My gaze shifts to Brian's hand, to the fingers that usually so confidently grip a dagger yet now lie relaxed against the grass. I find myself leaning slightly closer, observing the gentle rise and fall of his chest as if trying to match the cadence of his breathing.
At that moment, I realize the precariousness of my position. If Brian were to wake now, he'd see just how close I've drawn to him. Mere inches separate us, and his hand lies almost within reach of mine. I can feel the faint warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt and hear every steady breath he takes. The flickering firelight dances across his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones and brow, brushing against his lashes with a faint golden glow.
I watch him and am struck by a fear I can't quite place—not of him waking, but of what he might see in me if he does. Of how dangerously easy it's become to feel at peace with him beside me.
And, if I'm honest, that frightens me far more than any command my father could ever give.