Page 74 of Cursed By the Dawn

Elliothadto be alive.

I couldn’t consider another alternative.

When an older woman finally brought our food out—two heaping bowls of stew, buttered potatoes, warm bread, and a second pitcher of steaming cider—Erebus melted. He picked up a piece of bread, his expression flickering between wariness and wonder, as if he’d forgotten what it meant to savor something so simple.

I smiled, some of my own tension melting at his childlike awe. “All that emotion for a piece of bread.”

He arched a brow but didn’t bother masking the slight upward twitch of his lips. “After centuries of stale air and shadows? This might as well be ambrosia.”

I bit into my own bread, groaning as the warmth and saltiness spread through me like sunlight. For a moment, the world outside—the cold, the demons, Noctis’s Corruption, the Light Bringer—faded. It was just the two of us, sharing a stolen slice of normalcy.

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted, pouring us each a cup of cider. “Here,” I said, lifting my cup. “To food that’s not a dream.”

Erebus raised his mug, his eyes locking with mine. “And to nights that remind us of what’s real.”

Our room was small.

Toosmall, perhaps, for a man of Erebus’s stature.

He knocked his head against the doorframe, shouting a colorful string of expletives I’d never heard him voice before. He blamed it on still feeling unsteady in the real world, saying he’d gotten too used to flitting about his castle and its towering ceilings. In the Dream Realm, we could bend the laws of nature. In Noctis, the laws of nature bentus.

Rubbing his forehead, Erebus peered back in the hallway. If someone had been there—if someone had seen his clumsiness—Maker only knew what wrath they’d face.

Fortunately for us all, the narrow hallway was empty.

Our room was on the second floor, tucked away in its most isolated wing. The innkeeper likely figured we’d be less trouble if we were kept away from his other patrons. The lone bed dominated the space, its thick quilt faded and patched but clean. A basin of steaming water had already been brought in, along with a folding screen for privacy. The air felt warmer here, almost suffocating, and I wasn’t sure if it was the small fireplace in the corner, a fire already burning inside, or something else entirely.

I cracked a window, gripping the sill as I forced myself to breathe.

Breathe, Esmer.

The wicked voice was gone; it would have no place here.

I set my small pack near the bed, fiddling with the clasp. Erebus was equally absorbed, smoothing the folds out of his matching black tunic and pants. I was loath to admit it, but Mithras had chosen our sleep clothes well. My nightgown’s dark purple sleeves, embroidered with black roses, were long and soft.

Briefly, our gazes snagged.

We both froze, blushed, and glanced away.

We’d slept together countless times in the Dream Realm, often tangled in shared exhaustion after mock battles and trials. But this felt real. No ethereal haze to dull the edges. No shadows to blur the lines. Just the two of us, firm and tangible, in a space too small to hide from each other.

Not that we wanted to.

Erebus untied his cloak and began undoing the miscellaneous fastenings on his armor. His movements were slow and deliberate, but his jaw was tightly clenched. “You can bathe first,” he said, his voice a touch too formal. As though he was struggling to keep himself in check. “Not that youneedto bathe, of course,” he added hastily.

I laughed, ducking behind the screen. The water was scalding, but I welcomed it, letting it wash away the dust from the tomb and the tension from the road. I took longer than necessary with the soap, scrubbing at skin that prickled from his nearness. When I emerged, dressed in my nightgown with wet hair still dripping down my back, Erebus was staring into the fire.

He jumped to his feet when he finally noticed me, a conflicted expression crossing his face.

“Your turn,” I said playfully, and he nodded, disappearing behind the screen with his sleep clothes folded neatly over his arm.

While he bathed—and I tried not to think about how near and bare he was—I brushed my hair by the fire with gentle, measured strokes.The tension in the room hadn’t dissipated; if anything, it was worse. I could hear the faint splash of water behind the screen, the sound stirring something treacherous in me.

I should have been thinking about how we were going to defeat Raelion. I should have been thinking aboutstrategy. Not indecent thoughts about water dripping from Erebus’s unclothed body.

Maker, I must have drunk too much cider.

Face burning, I drew the quilt around my legs. It smelled pleasantly of nutmeg and cedar. When Erebus returned, dressed in soft sleep clothes that seemed almost too mundane for someone princely like him, damp hair curling at the ends, he looked… human. A dangerous, extraordinarily beautiful human, but human, nonetheless. More real than he’d ever looked in the Dream Realm, where he was all shadows, sharp edges, and menacing power. It was disarming.