It made it harder to tell him she had to leave.
Red cleared her throat. “Is this what you’re always doing in the library?”
“Mostly.” He put down his pen, pushed his hair away. A streak of ink marred his forehead. “I’m translating from old Meducian.”
“For fun?”
“We all have our own ideas of fun, Redarys.”
She quirked a smile at that, though it fell before she could finish the curve. “Why’d you bring it up here?”
His eyes pinned her in place. “You rarely come to the library when I’m in it.”
Heat curled low in her stomach.
Eammon took a deep breath, leaned forward like he might stand. “Red, I—” A wince interrupted him as his hand moved carelessly across the desk, leaving a trail of that thin, sap-like blood.
Worry eclipsed the warmth, worry and the memory of the mirror. Her voice came bare and fumbling. “I have to go back.”
Eammon froze. Then his eyes pressed shut, and he sank back into his chair, resignation tightening the line of his jaw. “I understand. You should—”
“No, you don’t understand.” The words cracked, graceless. She wanted to tell him it had nothing to do with that kiss, but it wasn’t quite the truth. It did have to with that kiss, but not the way he thought. Not in any way that even resembled regret. “You think I wouldn’t have left before if that’s what I wanted? You think I wouldn’t have tried to run already?”
“You came here because you had no choice.” He said it to the desk, to the paper now crumpled in his hand. “Because you were forced to. I should’ve made you leave the minute you—”
“I came here because I thought I had to save the people I loved from myself. I came here because I thought the power I had was something evil. You showed me it wasn’t, that it’s not good or bad, it just is.” She swallowed. “I’ve known the whole time you wouldn’t stop me, Eammon. Every moment I have spent here, I’ve chosen to.”
He said nothing. But his fist closed tighter, like he had to restrain it from reaching.
Red sank to the edge of the bed. “I looked in the mirror.” Changing course, leaving all the reasons for staying and leaving and choices hanging in the air. “It was just a hunch, to see if Neve might have something to do with . . . with what’s been happening.”
His brows lowered.
“I was right. She’s the cause of it. The missing sentinels. I don’t know how, but it’s her.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The mirror showed me the truth before, it’s showing me the truth now. I have to find out what she’s doing, see if I can stop it. And maybe if she sees me, sees I’m fine, she’ll reverse the damage somehow.” Her fingers knotted in the hem of his shirt she wore. “I have to try, especially if I can’t do anything else. If you won’t let me do anything else. The last thing I want to do is leave you alone, but—”
“I’ve been alone a long time.” Low, roughened. Almost pleading.
She bit the corner of her lip like she could still taste him on it. “But you don’t have to be.”
A moment, iron-heavy, glass-fragile. Finally, Eammon looked away, shattering it into something that didn’t shine so brightly. “When will you leave?”
“A few days. I’d like to practice some more first. Make sure I have my power under control.” She swallowed. “Getting married helped, but it seems like I can only make it do what I want when . . . when I’m close to you.”
Something unnamed flickered in Eammon’s eyes. “Is that so?”
“From my observations, yes.”
There was a challenge in the gaze they shared— each daring the other to talk about it. To attempt naming the warmth between them.
“We’ll practice tomorrow, then.” Eammon jerked his chin toward the bed. “But first, sleep.”
He broke eye contact, turning toward his crumpled blanket against the wall. Even with the fire, the air was cold, and a shiver rolled through his shoulders.
“You don’t have to sleep all the way over there.”
Eammon’s spine locked.
Red hadn’t meant to speak the thought, and she blinked hard, hands tightening on her sheets. Too late to take it back, and Eammon’s shoulders kept ratcheting up, the intention to flee in every line—
“I mean,” she said quickly, “if you want to pull the blanket over by the fire, you can. It’s cold. No sense in freezing.”