Soren carried Eris back inside long after the courtyard had fallen still.
Eris slept soundly against him, her breath warm against the hollow of his neck, so light it almost didn't feel real. The torches along the hallways sputtered as he passed, their flames bending in quiet submission, as if even fire itself refused to disturb her sleep.
Her body was warm, unbearably so and yet Soren held her as though she were the most fragile thing he had ever touched. One arm under her knees, the other cradling her back, careful not to jostle even the fall of her hair.
He moved through the inn's sleeping corridors, past the half-awake guards who straightened immediately at the sight of him.
And then came the chatter.
A pair of Winter Knights, whispering near the stairwell, a harmless exchange about shift changes and routes, until Soren stepped into view.
His gaze alone silenced them.
