The village of Onatal was small, tucked into the crook of two gentle hills. Smoke curled from chimneys, the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread a balm after the harrowing journey through the Mirrorwood. The inn, a sturdy timber-and-stone structure called The Bell and Bridle, was mercifully warm, its common room a glow of lanternlight and quiet conversation.

  Annemarie sagged into a chair near the fire, her exhaustion evident in the way her limbs sprawled without elegance. Brandon dropped into the seat beside her, his usual vigilance tempered by sheer relief that they were somewhere normal for once. Melissa nudged Gorgoloth toward the hearth, where the giant spider settled into a disgruntled crouch, clicking his mandibles with what could have been disappointment.

  Julia rolled her shoulders, easing the ache from the last few days. “I don’t care what they have,” she sighed. “If it’s warm and not actively trying to kill us, I’m eating it.”

  The innkeeper, a woman of formidable girth and a no-nonsense manner, set down a platter of dark-crusted bread, soft cheese, and a thick stew fragrant with herbs and root vegetables. “You lot look half-starved,” she remarked, eyeing them in the way only a mother or an experienced tavernkeeper could. “Eat first, talk later.”

  Callista, ever the composed one, accepted a bowl with a small nod of thanks. Brenna, on the other hand, made an undignified noise at the sight of food and dug in without hesitation.

  The first bite was heaven.

  Annemarie closed her eyes, letting out a long, blissful sigh. “Oh, my God.”

  “Right?” Melissa mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “I think I forgot what real food tastes like.”

  “Because everything in the Mirrorwood was either cursed or made of nightmares,” Julia muttered, dunking a piece of bread into the stew.

  Brandon, quieter than usual, stirred his spoon through the thick broth. “It’s just nice,” he admitted after a beat. “Sitting down. Eating. Not running for our lives.”

  Melissa lifted her cup. “To not running for our lives!”

  There was a murmur of agreement, and they clinked their mismatched tin cups together. Even Gorgoloth made a satisfied clicking sound as he idly cleaned one of his legs.

  For a little while, the world was simple again.

  The room was small but comfortable— wooden walls sturdy against the wind, the faint scent of lavender and old parchment lingering in the air. A single candle flickered on the bedside table, casting long shadows against the ceiling as Annemarie sat cross-legged on the bed, her fingers twisting the edge of the woolen blanket.

  Brandon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his shirt half-unlaced and hanging loose. He watched her in the dim light, his brow furrowed in the way it always did when he was thinking too much.

  She exhaled, pressing her palms to her knees. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  He didn’t have to ask what it was. The Mirrorwood. Callista. The Curse that had almost swallowed them all.

  Brandon sighed and pushed off the frame, moving to sit beside her on the bed. “I know.”

  “She knew, Brandon.” Annemarie’s voice wavered, just above a whisper. “She knew the Curse was worse than she let on. And I— I made it worse.” She swallowed hard, gripping the blanket. “The bond— our bond— pulled her deeper. I should’ve— I don’t know— I should have seen it. Should have stopped it.”

  Brandon shook his head. “We didn’t know. You didn’t know.”

  “But I should have.” She laughed, hollow. “What kind of person doesn’t know what her alánder is going through?”

  “The kind who’s human? Who’s new to this shit? Who has to process her magic settling, before she can even process the fact that she’s in a new world?” He lifted a hand to graze Annemarie’s cheek.

  Annemarie shut her eyes. “I never even though she’d be pulled in the same way. Never put it together that she was on the other side of the Wood, being pulled deeper and deeper every passing day.”

  Brandon’s jaw clenched. He hated seeing her like this— drowning in self blame, trapped in a fight she could never win with herself. Gently, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Hey,” he murmured. “You didn’t drag her anywhere. This... accident of magic did. It isn’t your fault, and neither is it hers.”

  Annemarie turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “What if we don’t get along?”

  Brandon blinked, then laughed. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “I really— I love you, I don’t know why I find that funny.”

  She sighed. “We’re stuck together for life, Bran. You should be just as concerned.”

  He caught his breath, sobered. “We’ll figure it out. You’re right— she’s what, my alánder in common law? And she seems nice enough, once you get past her walls. Which are so fair, considering what she’s gone through. But you know what I mean.” He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Annemarie’s temple. “My objective opinion? You are the most likeable person in the world. You will do just fine.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Annemarie tried a small smile, then dropped it and leaned into Brandon’s embrace. He was warm, solid against the chaotic ebb and flow of her emotions. She inhaled his scent— comforting, hers. Then she pulled back. “Distract me, my love,” she pleaded. “I just— everything is so complicated, but I love you and I need something to focus on. Please.”

  Brandon stilled.

  Her gaze met his, something vulnerable behind the exhaustion, the self-recrimination.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then, with a slow certainty, Brandon reached for her, fingers trailing up her arm, anchoring her in the present. Annemarie exhaled as she leaned into his touch, her own hands coming up to cup his face.

  She kissed him then, mouth on his, settling into the cradle of his arms as he moved to cover her body with his own. He kissed her throat, her bare shoulder, rucking her nightgown up as he ran his hands up her legs.

  By the time he lifted the dress over her head and found she wore nothing underneath, her eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. He kissed her again, curling his tongue around hers with silent promise. I am here. I am always here. His hands moved up her body, holding her hip, circling a breast. She writhed against him, lifting her hips in search of friction.

  Brandon lowered his chin, laughing darkly as his mouth covered a peaked nipple. He lifted off, biting the bud before leaving little kitten licks over the spot. She moaned, hand coming up to twist in his hair.

  When he was satisfied, he began kissing down her stomach before coming to rest between her legs. He turned his head, licking one thigh before gently biting it. He looked up at Annemarie. “Everything good up there?”

  Annemarie gazed back at him, breathless. Already flushed and panting, Brandon grinned into her thigh, nipping it again for good measure. She yelped.

  Finally, he turned his attention to the place between her legs. Tongue swiping up the wetness that had gathered there, he set to work. Licking and sucking, he feasted, eating her out until she tugged at his hair and dragged his head back to her face. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself.

  “I want,” she gasped, “to come with you inside me.”

  Brandon brought his lips back to hers, biting her lower lip. “I think that can be arranged.”

  He backed up, sliding off of her and off of the bed with a smile. Stripping off his shirt, then his pants and smalls, he gazed at Annemarie- flushed, naked, legs spread and cunt shining- appreciatively. Hardly thinking about it, he grasped his cock and gave it a lazy pump.

  “You know,” Annemarie started, “with you looking at me like that, a girl could be forgiven for gaining an ego.”

  Brandon laughed. “You’re stunning,” he replied, crawling back onto the bed. “More and more, every time I see you.”

  Annemarie smiled to herself, then looked back up at him. “My point still stands.”

  He rubbed his cock through her folds once, twice, then sheathed himself inside of her. They moaned in tandem. “Every time,” he gasped. “Every time you feel so fucking good.”

  “Compliment after compliment,” Annemarie sighed. “I’m one lucky woman.”

  They said nothing for a while. Just warmth, just the quiet reassurance that, for tonight at least, neither of them had to be alone in the dark.

  And once Annemarie had cried out and gone rigid, and Brandon had rolled her over and thrust one more time with a groan, they knew peace.

  For the night, that is.

  The adjoining room was quiet save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace, casting flickering light across the worn wooden walls. Melissa sat cross-legged on one of the beds, absently petting Gorgoloth while Brenna reclined against the headboard, lazily puffing from her pipe. Julia had taken the chair by the window, one leg draped over the arm, idly sharpening a dagger, and Callista sat with perfect poise at the writing desk, journaling.

  It had been a long day, but none of them were in much of a rush to sleep.

  Unfortunately, that meant they were awake when the first muffled noises started coming through the thin walls.

  At first, no one said anything.

  Then Julia raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the wall. “Do you think they know we can hear them?” She asked, trying— and failing— not to crack a grin.

  “Can we please not acknowledge it?” Melissa groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “She’s my cousin!”

  Brenna exhaled, taking another slow, amused drag from her pipe. “Well,” she mused, “at least we know they’re relaxing. Annemarie has a penchant for dramatic monologues.”

  Callista didn’t look up from her writing. “I sincerely hope they aren’t talking at all.”

  Julia smirked, spinning her dagger between her fingers. “They don’t sound like they are.”

  Melissa let out a miserable groan and flopped backward on the bed, covering her face with a pillow. “I hate all of you.”

  Brenna patted her knee sympathetically. “I mean, if it helps, at least he’s making her feel better?”

  A loud, distinct moan filtered through the wall.

  Melissa screamed into the pillow.

  Julia bit her lip, failing spectacularly at hiding her grin. “Could be worse. You could be sitting here and sharing a wall with them.”

  Callista let out a long sigh, setting her papers aside with a resigned air. “For the record,” she said, rising smoothly to her feet. “I am leaving.”

  Melissa peeked out from beneath the pillow, hopeful. “Where are you going?”

  “To find better company,” Callista said primly, heading for the door. “Or, failing that, a bottle of wine.”

  Brenna let out a low chuckle as the door swung shut behind her. “Smart woman.”

  Another noise filtered through the wall— one that made even Julia wince.

  Melissa let out a strangled noise and threw the pillow across the room. “I swear to God I will go out there and—”

  Brenna reached over and handed her the pipe. “Here. Smoke. Forget. Move on.”

  Melissa snatched it from her hand. “Fine. But if they don’t shut up in the next five minutes, I’m sending Gorgoloth in to traumatize them.”

  Julia chuckled, stretching lazily. “That’d be a real mood killer.”

  Brenna grinned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Melissa took a deep inhale from the pipe, exhaling through her nose with the long-suffering air of someone done with this conversation. “I hate this group.”