A flash ruptured from where Fenrys had been sniffing at a trunk of jewels, and then a male was standing there. His gray clothes worn, but intactin better shape than the hollowed-out look in his eyes.
Aelin paused her looting.
Fenrys's throat bobbed, as if trying to remember speech. Then he said hoarsely, "We needed more pockets." He patted his own for emphasis.
Aelin's lips curved in a hint of a smile. She blinked at Fenrys-three times. “Are you okay?”
Fenrys blinked once in answer. “Yes.”
A code. They'd made up some silent code to communicate when he'd been ordered to remain in his wolf form.
Aelin's smile remained, just barely, as she walked to the golden-haired male, his bronze skin ashen. She opened her arms in silent offer.
To let him decide if he wished for contact. If he could endure it. Just as Rowan would let her decide if she wished to touch him.
A small sigh broke from Fenrys before he folded Aelin into his arms, a shudder rippling through him. Rowan couldn't see her face, perhaps didn't need to, as her hands gripped Fenrys's jacket, so tightly they were white-knuckled.
A good sign—a small miracle, that either of them wished, could be touched.
"Thank you," Aelin said, her voice small in a way that made Rowan's chest crack further. Fenrys didn't answer, but from the anguish on his face, Rowan knew no thanks were in order.
They pulled away, and Fenrys cupped her cheek. "When you are ready, we can talk."
About what they'd endured. To unravel all that had happened. Aelin nodded, blowing out a breath. "Likewise."
