Nila woke to the sound of a slow, heavy heartbeat vibrating against her left cheek.

For a second, her lungs locked. She expected the cold floor of the Down Pack cellars, the sharp scent of stale lye, and the heavy thud of Martha’s boots on the stairs. She braced her muscles, preparing to scramble backward into the dark.

Then, the smell of dark pine and warm iron filled her nose.

She wasn't on the floor. She was tucked against Kaelen’s chest. He lay beside her on the massive wool rug, his large arm draped loosely over her waist, his fingers curled into the hem of her dark green tunic. The...