Page 127 of Nikolay

The room stilled again.

He rose from his chair in one unhurried motion, and it struck me—not for the first time—that my father had always understood something most rulers never did. Power rarely needed haste. It needed certainty. He came to the table and laid one pale finger on the map just north of where my thumb still pinned the eastern wall.

Bronc held his gaze and gave one slow nod.

Father looked at Taras, then at Maksym. “Prepare for covert entry.”

Then to Bronc. “Prepare to go to the gate if the covert entry requires cover, or if we lose contact and must force visibility.”

That was not yet a locked decision, and every person there knew it. It was something colder and more exact: parallel lines of readiness, held until the next piece of intelligence forced one line to become action.

Lucia stepped toward Amelia and Aspen. “You two will go with the breach team.”

Amelia blew out a breath. “Obviously.”

Aspen nodded and patted the small satchel she kept at her side. Oscar poked his head out and saluted. I could only shake my head, realizing I trusted them.

Doc pushed away from the wall completely now. “If she’s drugged or injured, I’m in.”

“No argument there,” Bronc said.

I looked down at the map again. Lines. Routes. Guesses dressed as plans. Somewhere beyond them, Maddie existed where I could not see, under hands I had not yet broken, breathing air that did not belong to her. The bond pulled once more, deep and savage, refusing closure.

I pressed my thumb harder against the eastern wall marker until the paper threatened to tear.

Bring her home, I told myself, because there was no prayer in it anymore, only command. Bring her home or deserve the grave you make on the way.

Above us, the old clock kept counting down toward dusk with all the mercy of a blade.

Chapter 20

Maddie

Iwoke slowly enough to mistake warmth for safety. For one foolish, drowsy instant, I knew only heat at my front, weight at my back, the low crackle of the fire, and the deep, even rise and fall beneath my cheek. Then sense returned all at once, sharp as cold water, and I realized I was tucked against Sage’s chest with his arm laid over me like we had practiced the shape of this before.

I went rigid.

My spine locked first, then my stomach, then every useful thought in my head fled in twelve different directions at once. I pulled back immediately, too fast for grace, and his arm slid away from me without resistance. The wool throw bunched in my lap. I swung my legs toward the edge of the couch and planted my boots on the floorboards as if standing up fast enough might undo the fact that I had been asleep on him like some love-struck idiot in a movie with a tragic budget.

Behind me, his voice came low and unhurried.

“You’ve got no reason to be embarrassed. You had a restless night. I didn’t mind having you close.”

That should have made it better.

It did not.

I sat there with my shoulders up around my ears and looked straight ahead at the fire because looking at him felt unwise. The cabin had changed while I slept. The flames had settled from the high, bright energy of earlier into a slower, steadier burn. Outside the windows, pale afternoon light pressed weakly through the heavy curtains, turning their edges to muted gold while leaving the corners of the room in a comfortable dusk. The glass reflected firelight in broken little glows.

I did not trust comfort. Not this much of it. Not when it arrived wearing a man’s face.

“You can stand up and run for the door if that helps,” Sage said mildly.

I turned then, because there was no way to let that pass unanswered.

He was already on his feet, dark sweater fitted neatly over his shoulders as if even sleepiness in a woman’s company had no power to rumple him. His hair had fallen a little from whatever disciplined arrangement it had started the day in. It made him look less polished. Which, unfortunately, made him look better.

“I’m considering it,” I said.