What had only been two hours in reality felt like a lifetime to Moira. She stared blankly into the distance as they rode back to camp. She didn't see the crescent moon overhead. She didn't see the stars. She didn't hear the distant crash of waves. She didn't hear the conversations carrying on around her.

    All she was aware of was the smell of blood and the dull rhythm of Jasmine's movements. She didn't even have the energy to feel angry. She prayed it would be different in the morning. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in this loop of numb emptiness. Was this how Kalian felt when he froze in the Witch settlement?

    "Commander?" Bellamy called, bringing his horse alongside hers. Moira didn't respond. "I just wanted to apologize for Malachi's disrespect."

    "It is not your duty to apologize for him," Moira murmured. "It's meaningless anyway. He doesn't share the sentiment."

    Bellamy gave a slow nod, then lowered his voice. "Five children escaped."

    The icy claws gripping her chest loosened their hold, but only a fraction. "Thank you," she managed to say. Bellamy bowed his head again and rode onward.

    Five children. Whether they had escaped on their own or been allowed to flee, she didn't know. And, she didn't care. There were five less innocent lives on her conscience. Moira rode into camp and dismounted. A young man took Jasmine's reins and led her to her corral, while Moira headed to her tent.

    Malachi stepped in front of her before she could reach it. "We should discuss the report for tonight's assignment," he said.

    "It was your assignment. You make the report."

    Lir cleared his throat, appearing at her side. "Apparently, General Dagen sent specific orders to Malachi about this."

    Moira narrowed her eyes. "Why wouldn't he have informed me too?"

    "He wanted me to do it," Malachi replied. "You are in charge of delivering the report, and he wants to know the exact casualty number, as well as the number of survivors, if any. If there are, you're the one responsible for tracking them down and disposing of them." Malachi leaned closer. "And he wants tokens of their death. An eye, a finger, and a sliver of wing taken from each survivor after they are slain."

    Moira stared at Malachi in disbelief. "We do not ravage the bodies. Even Faeries deserve some respect in death."

    Malachi shrugged. "These are the orders, Commander. I didn't give them. If you have a problem with them, take it up with General Dagen."

    Moira rounded on Lir. "Is it true? Did you see the orders?"

    Lir nodded. "Dagen's seal was on them too."

    "I saw five little Faeries disappear into the brush. I'll be sure to let General Dagen know how many trophies to expect," Malachi chuckled. He walked off without another word.

    Moira stared at his receding form, trembling with rage. Lir touched her shoulder and she jerked out of reach. "Let me handle this for you," Lir whispered. "You don't have to do it."

    "Do you know how it will look if I don't?" Moira snarled. "I have no choice. Send scouts to start tracking the children. I'll handle them in the morning."

    "Moira..."

    "Commander Lev," she spat. "Don't forget yourself, Lir."

    His gaze hardened into its usual steely nature. "Apologies, Commander." He stormed off, leaving her silently fuming.

    Moira hurried back to her tent, eager to scream into her bedroll or hit something. She shoved the tent flap aside and froze. There were dozens of reports strewn across the floor of her tent. Most were stacked on top of others. Some had been folded and returned to their original box. There was a hand partially laying in the box, as though its owner had fallen asleep in the middle of setting a report down.

    In fact, that was likely exactly what had happened. Kalian was sprawled out on her bedroll, his breath rustling a paper that lay near his face. Moira crouched, examining one of the stacks of reports. All of these are dated from seven days ago, she realized. He was sorting them all tonight even though I told him he could wait. Some of her anger abated and she began to gather up the reports.

    Moira took Kalian's hand out of the box and set the reports inside before returning it to its place on her rickety desk. She hesitated for only a moment, then sat down beside Kalian. Gently, Moira smoothed lightly curled hair from his forehead. She should wake him and send him on his way. She knew she should, and yet...

    "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.

    Kalian's features shifted, but he didn't wake. Moira bit her lip, then kicked her boots off and set her crystal and obsidian daggers beside the bedroll. She shrugged out of her leathers and unbound her hair. It took only a few minutes to comb the tangles out with her fingers, before Moira lay down beside Kalian.

    He moved again, sliding one hand beneath his own cheek. Moira lifted her fingers to his jaw, then brushed them over his cheekbone. Again, that long forgotten emotion sent butterflies dancing through her stomach. It was nice to feel something other than anger and emptiness. Something other than guilt.

    Moira tensed as Kalian's arm wrapped around her waist. His eyes remained shut, even as he tugged her closer. His warmth spread to her and she breathed in the ice and spruce scent that perpetually clung to him. Another thought occurred to her, crushing all of the butterflies into dust. Perhaps he had mistaken her for Calandra.

    "Kalian?" Moira called.

    "Mm." So he was slightly awake, at least.

    "It...it's me. Moira."

    Her breath caught as he buried his nose in her hair. "I know," Kalian murmured, words slurred with drowsiness. The silent moments dragged on, until she thought he might've fallen asleep again. "Do you want me to leave?" He asked, speaking clearer than before.

    "No," she whispered. "No, stay. Please stay." Moira squeezed her eyes shut, half afraid he would get up and leave regardless.

    He didn't. Something warm and soft slid over her, and she guessed he'd retrieved her blanket. Kalian didn't move his arm from her waist, or his nose from her hair. She was content to remain like that. For now, she didn't let herself consider what it might mean. What could happen, if they were discovered. How much more complicated things would become. She didn't want to be alone, and he wasn't leaving.

☽◦༻◦☽◦༺◦☽

    Kalian woke in confusion. His surroundings were unfamiliar and... He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Moira Lev was pressed up close to him, her face hidden against his chest and her legs tangled with his. Kalian's breath quickened as one of her legs slid higher on his own, cradling his hips between her thighs.

    But that was the least of his worries. His glamour had faded, and his wing was tucked tightly around Moira, whether by his doing or hers, he didn't know. He barely remembered their conversation from the night before. The blue swirls in his wings glowed as he recast his glamour.

    Moira squirmed, brushing hair from her face with a soft yawn. She moved again and Kalian stiffened, heat pooling low in his stomach. His hand skimmed over her waist and down to her thigh. Kalian pushed her leg off himself carefully and rose. He had to get out of here before she woke or someone came in.

    He tugged the tent flap aside and peered out. Malachi hovered just a few feet away. Kalian stepped back instantly. There was no way he was leaving this tent without Malachi seeing him. He glanced over his shoulder, hearing a faint sound. Moira sat up, rubbing her eyes wearily. Her hair was fluffy and tangled, sticking out at odd angles. There was a flush in her brown cheeks and her eyes shone brightly.

    Her gaze fell just below his hips and Kalian blushed furiously, turning away from her. "You move a lot," he muttered.

    "And you appear to like it." There was a teasing note in her voice. A heartbeat later, she cleared her throat and leather rustled. "This...probably shouldn't happen again."

    Kalian nodded, still not looking at her. "You're right. I should've left last night."

    "I'm glad you didn't. I didn't want to be alone."

    "Why?" He faced her just as she was buckling the last of the straps on her leathers.

    Moira heaved a sigh. "I was left behind on watch duty while the others attacked the caravan. Five children managed to escape, but Malachi was given private orders in the event of that happening."

    Guilt flooded her eyes and Kalian stepped closer to her. "What were they?" He urged.

    "I have to hunt down those children and kill them. General Dagen wants proof they're dead too. An eye, a finger, and a sliver of wing from each of them."

    Nausea churned in Kalian's stomach. "And if you don't?"

    "Dagen has his excuse to replace me without repercussions."

    Kalian's heart hammered against his ribs as he replied. "Let me do it for you. You..." He swallowed the rising bile in his throat. "You don't need to do this."

    "Lir said the same thing." Moira lifted her gaze and Kalian held it. "No, Kalian. Neither of us need to do it, but you especially."

    "So you'll kill and mutilate five children?"

    "I'll figure something out. I'll..." A thoughtful look crossed her features. "I'll go back to the caravan and take what I can from the dead already there. They won't all be burned beyond use."

    "And what will happen to the rest of the bodies, should Malachi suspect what you're doing and investigate?" Moira massaged her forehead wearily. Kalian jerked his gaze away. "Nevermind. I'll handle that."

    "You don't have to..."

    "I'm going to." It was the last shred of respect he could show to members of his kind, who were about to be desecrated so their children could live. "I might be able to have Bellamy and Samson help me. We'll figure something out." Perhaps he could find a Witch to help too. He needed one to deliver the reports of interest he'd found to King Arius and Queen Iyan.

    Moira's gaze softened, becoming almost unrecognizable. "Thank you." She brushed past him, heading for the tent flaps.

    "Malachi is outside," Kalian warned.

    "Of course he is."

    Kalian tugged his boots on and recovered his obsidian dagger, the only item he'd brought into the tent with him. Moira had already left by the time he was finished. He poked his head out of the tent and waited until she led Malachi away. Then, Kalian stepped into the open and set off in search of Samson.