Page 111 of The Violet Raven

I try to make myself comfortable, but I feel restless. Finn ducks inside, his presence filling the small space as he settles down beside me. I keep my back turned to him at first, unsure how to navigate this unfamiliar intimacy. The rustle of the blankets as he adjusts and the steady rhythm of his breathing become my focus.

After a moment, I turn to him, the question pressing against my lips. “Finn,” I say softly, “How did you know what that... creature was saying?”

His brow furrows in thought. “I dinnae ken… truly,” he admits, his voice low and thoughtful. “It worried me, but if it somehow saved you, I’ll not question whatever gift was granted in that moment.”

“What did it mean?”

Finn shifts, his fingers curling slightly into the blanket. “She asked if I’d hurt you.”

A pause lingers between us, thick and heavy.

His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Then she told me to defend you.”

The response slips easily from my lips. “I know… given the chance, I’d not hesitate to do the same for you. To defend you with my life.”

I swallow hard and turn my gaze away, focusing on the slow rise and fall of his breath.

Moments pass, and though I try to keep to myself, the tension in my body refuses to dissipate. Suddenly, Finn shifts, his arm tentatively wrapping around my waist, drawing me closer until I’m turned, and my back presses against his chest.

My heart races, but it’s not fear that fuels it now. There’s something settling about the weight of his arm around me, the way his body moulds protectively against mine. His touch is firm yet careful, as though he’s afraid I might shatter if he eases his grip. I let out a shaky breath, and the sound of it draws a soft murmur from him.

“Easy now, Tri,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing, and far too close to my ear. “I’ve got you.”

And I truly believe that. I feel safe—not just from the dangers outside the tent, but from the doubts and fears that tangle in my heart.

As my breath evens out, he moves his hand to my hip. It lingers, not moving, not pressing, just there. It should feel out of place, but it doesn’t. It feels right. Warmth spreads through me, seeping into places I hadn’t realised were cold.

My fingers brush against his, tentative, testing the reality of this moment. Beneath my touch, his muscles shift, and I feel his breath hitch. Emboldened by his reaction, I grasp his hand, guiding it to rest just above my breasts, lacing my fingers through his.

It is as brazen a move as I have ever made, my heart pounding at the intimacy. The heat of his palm sears against me, and for a moment, I am caught between hesitation and desire.

What am I doing?

The thought flickers, but his steady breathing drowns it out, his presence anchoring me. Is this what it means to trust—offering a piece of myself without fear? I can’t explain why I need him this close, only that it feels inevitable, as if every unspoken word and stolen glance led to this shared moment.

It’s not just the safety that lulls me, but the quiet strength of him, the way his presence seems to fill every corner of the tent, and every part of me.

“Thanks,” I whisper, barely audible over the rhythm of his breathing.

He doesn’t respond with words, just presses me further into his body. It’s a slight gesture, but it feels like everything.

As sleep slowly pulls me under, I realise I have never felt more protected—nor more vulnerable. In Finn’s presence, I don’t feel the need to run from anything.

Triona

Wednesday, 7 May 1823

Somewhere Near Inverness

The morning sun filters through the trees, casting shifting patterns of light across the forest floor as I make my way toward the creek. Callan crouches low at the water’s edge, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes, his focus unyielding.

A few paces away, Casey and Bran sit in hushed conversation, their words occasionally broken by bursts of laughter that feel oddly out of place in a world that’s tipped off its axis.

“Callan,” I call softly.

He glances over his shoulder, his sharp gaze softening when it lands on me. “What is it?”

“I’m holding you to your promise,” I say, folding my arms to hide the tremor in my hands. “No more secrets. I want the full truth.”