The tent smelled of crushed herbs, smoke, and damp earth.
It had been raised quickly—too quickly—by magic. Canvas stitched with protective runes glowed faintly in the dark, keeping the forest and its listening shadows at bay.
Aria lay on one side of the narrow cot, bandages wrapped tight around her ribs. Every breath pulled at the wound, but the pain was dull now—manageable. Mira's healing had slowed the bleeding, but she hadn't sealed it completely.
"Pain reminds you you're alive," Mira had said. "And that you're not done yet."
Across from her, Darius lay propped against rolled blankets, his shoulder bound in silver-threaded cloth that hummed softly with stabilizing magic. His face was pale, eyes half-lidded, but awake.
The tent flap rustled as footsteps retreated.
"They're giving us privacy," Darius murmured. "Either that, or they're afraid of what you might accidentally do next."
Aria huffed weakly, then winced. "Don't joke."
"I'm serious," he said. "That healing you did? Half of the Council would call it forbidden."
She turned her head to look at him. His usual arrogance was gone. No smirk. No calculating stare. Just… Darius.
Quiet. Human.
"Why do you keep doing that?" she asked suddenly.
He blinked. "Doing what?"
"Saving me," Aria said. Her voice was steady, but her fingers curled into the blanket. "Back at the city, even when it puts you in danger."
Darius was silent for a long moment.
The tent crackled softly as a rune dimmed and brightened again.
"Is it a crime," he said finally, "to save someone who's about to change the world?"
Aria frowned. "That's not an answer."
He sighed and turned his head away, staring at the canvas wall like it had offended him.
"I don't like loose variables," he said lightly. "You're… volatile. Interesting. Keeping you alive is good strategy."
She studied his profile.
The tight jaw. The way his fingers clenched when he thought she wasn't looking.
"That's still not the truth," she said.
Another pause.
Then, softer—almost careless—he said, "Maybe I'm just tired of watching people die, for prophecies."
That landed harder than she expected.
Aria swallowed. "You smiled. When I asked."
He stiffened.
"I didn't—"
"You did," she said. "Just now. For a second."
Darius went very still.
Then he scoffed quietly and shook his head, eyes still averted. "You're imagining things. Blood loss does that."
Aria didn't push.
But something warm and unfamiliar settled in her chest, Something dangerous.
"Thank you," she said instead.
"For what?"
"For not letting me fall."
His lips twitched before he could stop it.
She didn't see the smile.
But she felt it.
The lantern between them burned low, its flame reduced to a trembling ember.
Aria lay back against the cot, exhaustion finally pulling at her limbs. Every ache in her body reminded her that she was still alive—still here. Across from her, Darius remained seated, arms folded loosely, eyes fixed on the tent wall as if it held answers he refused to ask for.
"You should rest," he said.
"So should you."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "I will. Eventually."
Silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, just… full.
The canvas walls shifted softly as the night air cooled. Somewhere outside, a branch cracked under its own weight. Aria's fingers tightened briefly in the blanket.
"Darius," she said, hesitating. "Earlier—when I asked you why you save me…"
He didn't turn.
"You don't owe me an answer," she added quickly. "I just—"
"I know," he said, too fast.
He exhaled, long and controlled.
"Some things are easier to do than explain," he said. "Saving you is one of them."
Aria studied his back. "And if one day I don't want to be saved?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Then I'll stand beside you instead," he said.
That made her frown—small, tired, real.
The lantern flickered.
"I'm glad you're here," she said.
He finally looked at her then.
Just for a second.
"hmm" he replied.
He rose and moved toward the tent flap, pausing with his hand on the canvas.
"Sleep," he said. "I'll take first watch."
Aria nodded, her eyes already heavy. You should sleep.
A softer smile touched his lips—one she didn't quite see.
"Not tonight."
He stepped outside, letting the flap fall closed behind him.
Aria listened to his footsteps fade, then to the rhythm of the forest beyond. As sleep claimed her, she had the strange sense that something unseen had leaned closer to listen.
And somewhere outside the tent, Darius stood very still—watching the dark.