Inara rose without protest, letting him guide her out of the dim war-room and into the cold stone hallway.
The torches there burned low, their light catching on the crimson of her cloak and the silver trim of his coat.
"Akamir," she said, matching his quick pace, "you're acting strange… even for you."
He only tightened his fingers lightly around her wrist. "You've spent days buried in maps and enemy reports. You need air."
They left the fortress by a side stair and stepped onto the western ramparts.
Night stretched wide and sharp, the sky a deep velvet scattered with icy stars.
Below, the valley lay quiet, the border fires like faint red eyes in the dark.
Inara pulled her cloak closer, the winter wind brushing her face.
"This is the special place?" she asked, half amused.
Akamir shook his head as he leaned in.
He scooped her in his arms as she yelped in surprise.
"Stick tight." Akamir warned.
Inara didn't think twice before she quickly grabbed him.
