Swords of Gilded Crimson

Chapter 68 | Interception |

**This chapter now reverts to Kalena's perspective**

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Rays of streaking, yellow tendrils fulminated through the mellow fabric of the tent's arches, each more scorching than the other. The radiance was enough to keep my eyelids averse to anymore of their like, but the more disconcerting realisation it'd brought with it, snapped me out of the daze; it was well into dawn already.

I strove to reach for my day tunic and weapons, but encountered a toilsome hurdle for even that, only a few minutes into the day. Nikolai's wing, with all its gruelling weight of the intricately plated lamella, lay draped over me, and under it, as did his arm. Beside me, he slept on soundly, a few mahogany strands fallen onto his face.

For a few seconds, any trace of the coarsened warrior, or even the mirrored side of his witty humour, were rendered absent. If not for my mind drawing to the fact he laid shirtless, I would've reckoned the sight to be a picture of pure innocence.

Before anything else, I rechecked myself again, under his wing, just to ensure I hadn't ridden myself of clothes to the same extent. It was good to see there was yet some self-restraint left in me.

But hastily, I patted his cheek while shoving the sheer weight of his wing off of me, albeit the reluctance to stray from the most peaceful position I'd ironically ever woken in.

'Nikolai.' I leant closely to his ear to wake him. It only elicited a light grumble as he slept on.

Once I'd pushed off the great might of his wing, I took to shaking him awake.

'You forgot to go back to your tent last night.' My whisper became a simmering one between the frequent glances I took backwards to discern if and whether anyone had caught onto the same fact.

Especially now that Meira was back. She'd be looking for her one, Luxandrian friend in the midst of an entirely Tenebrian camp. That was, if her and Kymil hadn't revisited their centuries old infatuations with one another, last night.

I was still gazing to discern the faint figures beyond the tent's fabric, when Nikolai instead pulled back on my arm, just as vigorously. I landed beside him again, with his wing now under us, curling inwards, and then around me, so as to make us closer in a light, somnolent cuddle. He whispered drowsily, in a voice both deep and raspy, 'Five more minutes- then I will.'

'We can't-' I began, but the reproach eddied away as soon as he cupped my jaw, steadying a hold while leaning over to gently kiss my forehead.

As he keeled to lay down again, I reached to kiss his cheek in the same, tender manner, while wrapping one of my own arms around him. The hardened, abdominal muscles couldn't go unnoticed regardless of what time, or place it was.

Nikolai was more or less awake, but adamant to still remain as we were. He veered onto the side facing me, and tucked back a few of strands of my own hair that had fallen into my eyes in the process. But not before a quick twine of the inky black curls around his fingers. 'Your eyes... are always so golden in the light.' He murmured softly, a drowsy daze coating each word, but not so far as to coat the candidness of each one.

'They're brown.' I mumbled a miserly response.

'A light, soft brown. Golden in the light.' He spoke hazily, the trance of sleep inching to make a return. I attributed it to the exertion of last night.

*

When we'd at last brought ourselves to leave the tent- separately and at timed intervals, it'd been far longer than five more minutes.

I first found Emrick at a log by a burned out campfire, hacking away at the lengths of the same, fibrous wires we'd been laying for the Opal's interception before running into the Winter fae. His injuries, while not healed fully, had subsided far enough to not be left bed-ridden any longer. In other words, a return to work.