"Herminia, wake up. There is something you might want to see."
Cassian's voice vibrated against the crown of Hermi's head, soft and grounding. His hand rested heavy and warm across her stomach, steadying her against the solid wall of his chest. Hermi sat nestled deep within his frame, swallowed by Cassian's cloak as he guided his black stallion forward.
It was their seventh day of travel. Now that they had neared the borders of Ferramonte, the air felt different. It was no longer the suffocating weight of the volcanic flats. She had sensed the faint pulse of mana returning to the atmosphere a little more than two days ago.
Though it was thin, it was enough to infuse a sliver of strength back into her limbs. It was the only reason Cassian had allowed her out of the carriage at all, letting her sit before him on the saddle so the pale sunlight could touch her skin.
