Durkhanai put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as he wrapped the cloth around her hand, clenching her jaw to bite back the ache.

“This might hurt,” he warned. She nodded. He pulled the cloth tight, forcing the skin of her wound together, and she took in a sharp breath, her nails biting into his shoulder. “All good.”

“Shukria,” she said, slightly embarrassed. She let go of his shoulder, and cradled her hand to her chest again. As she did, she felt sticky blood on the bottom of her necklace. With an irritated grumble, she undid the necklace, then undid the rest of her jewelry, too.

Asfandyar got up and returned with a little sack, and she put her gold inside. She could see that he was shivering and that she was being a little selfish with the loi, which had fallen off her shoulders when she had tripped. She picked it up. The loi was made of thick and scratchy wool, the size of a blanket; they could share.

“Come,” she said, adjusting the loi so half of it covered her, and the other half hung off her outstretched arm. “The night is cold.”

Asfandyar hesitated, a rare show of chivalry stopping him.

“It’s okay,” she said. “There’s no telling when the rain will stop; we’ll have to wait it out before we can return.

Asfandyar nodded, moving to sit beside her. He took the other end of the loi and wrapped it around his shoulders, but because he was sitting far away, it barely reached.

“Why are you so large?” Durkhanai tsked.

Asfandyar chuckled. “Apologies, princess.”

“We need to be strategic,” Durkhanai said, heart hammering. “Come closer.”

When he inched closer, careful not to touch her, Durkhanai moved closer herself, relishing his warmth as she aligned their bodies from their shoulders to their hips to their knees.

Which was probably a bad idea.

But at least now the loi fit, and Durkhanai brought it to wrap across their legs. Instantly, they began to warm, in a cocoon, but Durkhanai’s fingers remained frozen. She cradled her hands to her chest, blowing on her fingers.

“Allow me,” Asfandyar said, voice low.

Durkhanai hesitated.

“Oh, now your shame is stirred?”

“How rude!” Durkhanai balked, bumping his knee with hers. “Are you saying I’m shameless?”

“No,” he replied, ears turning pink. He looked away, thinking he had truly offended her, and she laughed.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re friends, right?”

But Durkhanai felt dangerous, on the edge.

“This is okay,” she said, giving him her hands, and she wasn’t sure if she was convincing herself or him, but she knew she was fooling neither of them.

He held her hands in his, blowing on them, pressing them tight in his palms, careful of her wound. A shiver ran down her spine. She was holding her breath, her heart beating too fast, too loud, in her ears.