Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

By midday, the snow had thickened enough that the outer patrols shortened their routes.

Nia learned it from the way people moved past the residence more often than usual, boots scraping damp grit across the corridor stones before voices lowered near the turn toward the lower kitchens. No one sounded alarmed. The mountain had settled too deeply into winter rhythm for every storm to become a crisis now. Still, shorter patrols meant more bodies indoors, more heat gathering in shared corridors, more wet outer layers steaming near fires that had already been burning since morning.

Inside the residence, the air smelled of roasted grain, pine smoke, and the sharp herbal bite of the salve Nia had left open beside the hearth.

Kael sat close enough to the fire for the light to move across the rough backs of his hands.

Nia sat across from him with the clay jar between her knees and tried not to think too much about the fact that he had given her his hand before she asked. Touch had become part of the household so gradually that Nia barely knew where to separate practical contact from anything else anymore, but Kael usually tolerated the salve with quiet resignation at best. Sitting down, stretching one hand toward her, and waiting before she even asked made her lose track of the salve jar for a second afterward. Kael steadied baskets when she lifted too much. He moved her aside with one hand at her waist when she stood too close to the fire. He warmed her blankets before sleep without mentioning it. Those things had become part of the way the residence worked around them.

But this time he had sat down, stretched one hand toward her, and waited.

Nia scooped a small amount of salve onto her fingers.

“You’re improving,” she said.

Kael’s eyes lowered briefly toward his hand in hers.

“Used it twice.”

“Twice in one day?”

“Since yesterday.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It’s more than once.”

She rubbed the salve carefully across his knuckles and tried not to smile where he could see it.

“That barely qualifies as trying.”

Kael made no attempt to defend himself.

The fire cracked near them.

Behind Nia, Shen adjusted the drying rack farther from the steam rising near the kettle. He had come by after checking the lower herb stores, or at least that had been the reason he gave when he entered with three small bundles under one arm and immediately started rearranging things no one had asked him to touch.

Nia had stopped questioning it.

Or maybe questioning it had started feeling more effortful than simply accepting that Shen would appear wherever she was likely to be for more than half an hour.

He moved quietly behind her, the soft scrape of wood against stone filling the space while Kael remained still beneath her hands.

The salve softened against Kael’s skin as she worked it over his fingers. His hand was broad enough that she had to hold it with both of hers to reach properly across the knuckles. She kept her attention on the dry skin, on the faint pale cracks from cold, on anything except the weight of him watching her. His attention stayed on her steadily enough that she kept having to recheck the same dry patch near his wrist.

“You don’t need to press so carefully,” Kael said.

“I’m not pressing carefully for your sake.”

His thumb shifted once beneath her palm.

Nia’s fingers slowed briefly against his hand while the hearth warmth gathered heavily between them, close enough now that the resin scent warming against his skin kept pulling at her attention.

Shen set one of the drying rack legs down more firmly than necessary.

Nia looked back over her shoulder.

He was studying the angle of the rack with mild concentration that did not fool her at all.

“Is something wrong with it?” she asked.

“No.” Shen adjusted the same leg again. “The steam was reaching the lower cloths.”

“It was not.”

“It would have.”

Kael’s mouth shifted faintly.

Nia looked between them and tightened her grip around Kael’s hand before she realized what she was doing.

Kael’s gaze dropped to where her fingers held him.

Nia looked down at the salve jar before either of them could pay too much attention to her expression.

She tried to release his hand again.

Kael turned his hand slightly and caught her fingers before she drew away completely.

Nia’s hand stopped moving entirely beneath his.

The hold was light. Barely more than a pause placed between their hands. He did not pull her closer or press her to stay. He only kept her there long enough that the salve cooled against her fingertips while the fire worked steadily beside them.

“Finish,” he said.

Her mouth went dry.

Shen’s movements stopped behind her.

Nia looked down at their hands because meeting Kael’s eyes suddenly felt far more difficult than it should have.

“You’re being very cooperative today,” she said.

“Mm.”

The quiet sound distracted her badly enough that she nearly reached for the wrong jar beside the hearth.

She reached for more salve with her free hand and resumed working it into the rough skin near his wrist.

No one spoke for several moments.

The mountain did not fall silent around them. That would have been easier. Snow continued scraping faintly beyond the outer stone. Somewhere in the corridor, someone laughed briefly before a door covering dropped back into place. The kettle clicked softly as heat shifted the metal hook above the fire.

Voices continued passing through the corridor while the kettle shifted softly above the fire, ordinary mountain noise continuing around them while Kael remained exactly where he was.

When she finished, Nia closed the clay jar with more care than necessary and set it beside the hearth.

“There.”

Kael flexed his fingers once.

“Better.”

“You say that like you didn’t know it would be.”

“I knew.”

She looked up despite herself.

Kael’s eyes were already on her.

Nia realized she had stopped turning the jar lid beneath her fingers entirely.

Shen crossed back toward the table and lifted one of the herb bundles before Nia realized she had stopped turning the lid beneath her thumb entirely.

“The lower stores will need more drying hooks before the next thaw,” he said.

The interruption arrived gently enough that she almost missed the mercy in it.

Nia turned toward him and cleared her throat.

“We have spare cord in the storage basket.”

“I saw it.”

“Of course you did.”

Shen’s expression remained smooth, but one brow lifted slightly.

“You placed it there yesterday.”

“And you remembered exactly where?”

“I usually remember where you put things.”

Nia’s hand tightened around the jar lid again.

Kael looked toward Shen then, both of them going quiet enough that Nia became aware of the shift between them without fully understanding it.

Shen lowered his gaze back toward the herbs first, tying the next bundle with more care than necessary while Nia stood between them with the strange realization that the tension gathering around her no longer felt unfamiliar enough to make her step away from it.

What unsettled her most was realizing she no longer wanted to step away from it immediately.

She stood before either of them could say anything else.

“I’m going to check the grain drying near the inner wall.”

Kael rose at the same time.

“I’ll move it.”

“I can move a tray.”

“It’s too close to the damp cloths.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You didn’t even look.”

“I smelled the steam.”

The worst part was that he had already noticed the dampness before she did.

Shen made a low sound near the table that might have been agreement if Nia were feeling generous.

She was not feeling generous.

“I was managing the grain perfectly well before both of you started hovering.”

Shen’s hands continued tying the herb bundle.

“Moisture ruins storage.”

Kael crossed behind Nia before she could answer, close enough that his warmth brushed along her back through the layered cloth. He reached past her for the grain tray near the wall, and Nia’s response scattered before she could gather it.

He did not touch her, but his body heat brushed strongly enough along her back that the response she had been about to make disappeared entirely.

Kael lifted the tray with both hands and moved it to the higher shelf near the hearth where the air stayed dry without growing too hot. It was the correct place. Annoyingly correct.

Nia stared at the empty wall space where the tray had been.

“Thank you,” she said, because refusing to say it would have been childish.

Kael returned to stand beside her.

“Mm.”

She turned to glare at him, but the look caught halfway when she realized how close he was.

The irritation disappeared fast enough that she became annoyed with herself instead.

His hair was still damp near the ends from melted snow. A faint trace of cold clung to him beneath the hearth heat, sharp against the resin scent still on his hands. He looked down at her without moving away.

Nia’s ears warmed.

“You keep doing that,” she said before she could stop herself.

Kael’s gaze shifted over her face.

“What?”

“Standing there.”

One beat passed.

Behind them, Shen’s hands went still again.

Nia stared at him for one awful second before realizing she had actually said that aloud.

Kael did not smile.

Kael staying completely serious only pushed more heat into her face.

“I’m standing in my residence,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

The fire snapped once behind them.

Kael’s attention dropped briefly to her mouth.

Nia forgot to breathe until she forced herself to look away from his mouth again.

When his gaze lifted again, something in his expression had changed only enough for her to feel it rather than name it.

“I know,” he said.

Nia looked away first before the silence stretched any tighter between them.

Shen adjusted the cord once around his fingers while watching Nia look away from Kael first.

The grain tray needed no further adjustment. The drying cloths were already far enough from the kettle. The fire did not need feeding yet. Every excuse within reach had vanished at precisely the wrong time.

She reached for the empty salve jar instead, even though it was not empty and had already been closed.

Kael’s hand settled over hers before she could pick it up.

Nia froze.

His palm covered her fingers against the cool clay lid.

“Leave it,” he said.

Her pulse moved too fast beneath her skin.

“I was just—”

“I know.”

Kael had started answering her that way more often lately, quietly enough that she only realized afterward how long the knowing beneath it had probably been there.

Nia’s throat tightened.

Shen rose from the table.

“I’ll take these to the lower shelves.”

Neither Kael nor Nia moved.

Shen gathered two finished bundles and crossed toward the entrance. His steps remained even, his expression composed, but his fingers tightened once around the cord before he tucked the bundles under one arm.

At the curtain, he paused.

“The snow is still heavy near the lower bend,” he said. “Don’t let the fire drop too low.”

Kael did not look away from Nia.

“It won’t.”

Shen’s gaze moved briefly between them before he stepped through the curtain and disappeared into the corridor beyond.

The residence quieted once he was gone, the hearth warmth gathering more heavily around the smaller space while Nia remained standing beside Kael with his hand still covering hers against the clay lid.

His thumb brushed once across the back of her fingers.

The movement was small, but her attention had narrowed around him too completely for her to miss it.

“You were gone longer than usual,” she said again, quieter this time.

“I came back.”

“That is not the point.”

“What is?”

Kael asked it quietly enough that the fire sounded louder for a moment afterward.

Nia looked down at his hand over hers, at the faint shine of salve still worked into his skin, at the way his fingers held her without closing too tightly.

She could have said she worried.

She could have said she disliked waking alone.

She could have said the room felt wrong before sunrise without him near the bedding.

Every answer she could think of drifted dangerously close to thoughts she had been avoiding for days.

Kael waited.

The fire burned steadily beside them.

Nia swallowed.

“I don’t like when I wake up and you’re already gone.”

His hand stilled over hers.

The admission sat there, plain and small and far more revealing than she had intended.

Kael’s voice was lower when he answered.

“I’ll wake you next time.”

The answer should have eased something in her chest. Instead it only made her more aware of how close he still stood.

Nia looked up.

Kael was watching her with the same stillness he carried before storms broke across the upper paths.

“No,” she said softly. “That’s not what I meant.”

The fire cracked once behind them.

Kael did not ask her to explain.

He only stayed there, close enough that the cold from his sleeve had finally disappeared and the heat between them no longer belonged entirely to the hearth.

Nia’s fingers curled once beneath his palm.

She did not pull away.

Neither did he.

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