Page 45 of Forged Flight

A breathless smile tugs at my lips.

“I think,” I whisper. “That worked.”

His quiet laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Aye,” he murmurs. “I think it did.”

Chapter Twelve: Lucan

By sunrise, the storm has finally passed.

Fresh snow blankets Mount Embercrest, turning the mountainside into a glittering sea of white. Ice clings to the exposed rocks, and the trail we climbed earlier is nearly impossible to recognize beneath the thick layer of snow.

I tighten my grip around Micah. He’s tucked securely against my chest, his arms looped around my neck and his legs dangling against my thighs.

“I can walk,” he protests for what must be the fifth time.

“The ground is slippery.”

“I can be careful.”

I glance down at him. “You’re too clumsy to walk down this snowy mountain by yourself, Doc.” I tighten my grip around his shoulder. “The last thing we need is you falling and getting hurt all the way out here in the wilderness.”

He gives me a playful pout.

I lean down and press a quick kiss to his pouted lips. He goes silent, his brown eyes widening behind his glasses.

I still can’t believe this is real—that Micah likes me. That he wanted me to kiss him. That we spent the entire night in that cave together, snuggled up and sharing tender kisses.

It was better than anything I ever dreamed of. I never imagined I could have all of this—that I was worthy of having someone choose me. Especially someone as lovely and beautiful as him.

I grin and continue down the mountain.

Behind me, Maple pokes her head out of the top of my backpack, her little horns peeking above the flap. She looks around curiously, her copper eyes darting from the snowy trees to the rocky cliffs.

Every so often, she lets out a soft chirp.

“Enjoying the view?” I ask her.

She chirps again.

Micah cranes his neck to look back at her. “She’s probably wondering why you’re carrying both of us.”

I chuckle. “Because you’re both tiny and weigh nothing.”

Micah sighs dramatically and settles against my chest again. “You know, I’m a fully grown human.”

I press a kiss to his forehead. “My human.”

He hums softly. “I like the sound of that.”

A smile tugs at my lips as he nuzzles closer, resting his cheek against my chest. I tighten my arms around him and continue our descent toward Thistle Grove.

From this high up, the village looks impossibly small. The houses and shops have been reduced to tiny specks scattered among the trees, the winding roads nothing more than thin lines cutting through the landscape.

My gaze drifts toward the castle in the distance.

King Castor’s fortress looms above the village, a massive gray structure surrounded by towering iron gates and a deep moat. He’s always made a point of separating himself from the people he rules, building his castle higher and grander while making it clear that its wealth and comforts belong to him alone. The only time he lets citizens inside is during the annual ball, where he proudly flaunts his riches.