"They're yours," I say. "No conditions."
She looks up, those dark eyes searching my face for the trick.
There isn't one.
Her throat works. She sets the boxes carefully aside, then shifts over on the narrow bed, creating space.
"Stay."
Not a command. A request.
I should leave. The contract doesn't require my presence through the night. She's made no formal summons.
Instead I settle against the wall beside her bed, close enough to reach if she needs me.
She pulls the cloak tighter around her shoulders—my cloak—and lies back down facing me.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"Sleep, Ilyra."
Her eyes drift shut. Breathing evens out slowly.
I remain through the night without being asked.
The bruises on her wrist darken further as hours pass.
And I make mental note of exactly how Bram Hethryn will answer for each one.
19
ILYRA
My fingers shake slightly as I fasten the pendant's clasp.
The cracked mirror reflects someone I barely recognize. Not the angles of my face—those remain familiar—but the shape beneath. Hips that curve instead of jut. Breasts that fill the bodice of this dress instead of hanging loose beneath fabric. My ribs no longer press against skin like ladder rungs.
I turn slightly, watching firelight catch on wine-red fabric.
All Azrathiel's doing.
The gifts. The food he brings without prompting—fresh bread, soft cheese, fruit that doesn't bruise. The strange, unexpected peace that settles over me when shadow coalesces into his form at nightfall.
I press my palm flat against my stomach, feeling the subtle difference.
One year.
That's what the contract stipulates.
My reflection stares back with questions I can't answer. What happens when the term expires? When he collects payment and our binding dissolves? Will he simply step back through shadow and never return?
The thought carves something hollow beneath my breastbone.
"Ilyra!" Vaelra's voice cracks up through the floorboards. "Kitchen. Now."
I tie my hair back quickly, fingers finding the familiar rhythm of braiding even as my mind stays fixed on the mirror. On borrowed time and debts unpaid.
But for now—the dress fits. The pendant rests cool against my throat.