It was early morning when Feren ducked out into the biting wind. He had his supplies that had been stashed away. He had his weapons at his hips and layers to cover his shoulders. He had his gloves and a scarf across his face; boots that had been warm at least for a few seconds after walking into knee-deep snow. His heart still thrummed from the night before.
The memory of her body against his, the way she fit perfectly into his arms and against his frame, kept him warm. Even the thought of her touch was enough to keep his fingers warm inside his gloves and send his stomach twisting and tumbling forward.
He'd felt every possible inch of her body against him. And it was the feel of her; the taste of her spirits in his chest, the look of sorrow in her beautiful eyes as morning came, that hurt more with every step he took away from Remalda.
Feren coughed as if it would relieve the tight feeling balling in his chest. He tried to pay attention to Grey wherever he'd been searching. But no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his stomach would lurch as thoughts of Amelia popped into his head.
He'd felt her as he'd felt no other woman since the first time he'd had her; he'd felt her body wrapped around his in the gentle glow of the firelight that accentuated her every inch. He'd felt her warm mouth against his; her slender fingers knotted in his hair; the soft skin of her thigh under his gentle hand. He'd felt her gasp and her body clench around him as he held her tighter, closer; became one with her. Amelia had given herself to Feren in a way that he'd never imagined she would again after Firica, though he'd hoped. Though all he wanted – all he had ever wanted – was for her to be comfortable, safe, happy.
"Will you be back?" she had finally asked him, her cheek and her arm resting on his bare chest early that morning.
Feren turned to kiss her hair, subtly drawing her closer to feel the melding of their spirits between them one last time. "I will always come back for you," he promised.
"But when?"
Feren sighed at the question, lifting his hand over his chest to hold hers as his arm around her back gently stroked up and down. He really didn't have an answer for her.
The pause lasted long enough for Amelia to readjust so she could turn her head up to look at him. He tried to avoid her gaze by pressing another kiss to her forehead, the muscles of his stomach flexing.
"When I know that Andrew is no threat to you," he finally told her in another sigh.
Though that answer did not seem to satisfy her, she turned her head back down.
"I will be safe," he promised her again.
"How will I know that?"
Their spirits would not easily cross the distance between them, he knew. There would be no easy way to send her letters or messages that he was alright. Feren did know, however, that if he were to be badly hurt or... killed... Amelia would know immediately. "I will be back for you," he said again. "I promise."
A faint hint of the road was found ahead of him buried under fresh snow. The wind had calmed, though it was still freezing cold in the lack of sunlight. He followed the old path through the trees, along the ridge of a hillside that arced upward from the natural valley in which Remalda sat. He imagined Amelia's lavender-tinted spirits combing through the fluffy white, and instantly he felt those same spirits rumble in his chest, clawing up his throat to be let out. They made his steps feel lighter.
He was almost to the top of the ridge when he felt, then heard, the other presence near. Feren stilled at once to gather his senses. His fists clenched as he fought to keep his summons from lashing outward.
