Jessamyn's appetite had long fled, replaced by the gnawing ache of fatigue and despair. Each spoonful of the bland stew only served to remind her of what she craved most—comfort, warmth, and Jerrick's strong embrace.
She longed for the sanctuary of their bed, where she could nestle against the steady rise and fall of his chest, the place where her worries would dissolve in the rhythm of his heartbeat. But here, among the gnarled trees and jagged rocks of the cold forest, such comfort was a distant memory.
Her fingers instinctively found the small trinket hidden within the folds of her cloak, the one Jerrick had given her before his departure. It was a simple charm, yet imbued with powerful magic, and Jessamyn had gone to great lengths to keep it hidden from the woman who held them captive.
