“Oh, Keris,” she said softly, and he hid his cringe with words.
“It’s vile. Thankfully I heal quickly.”
She caught him by the chin, forcing him to look at her. “You think how it looks is my concern? Do you have any idea how close you came to dying? A finger’s breadth to the right, and nothing Lara could have done would have saved you, and I’d be facing this fight alone.”
“Not alone,” he said. “The rebels will support you. And for all his vagaries, Aren will as well.”
“You think any of them can replace you?” The second the words were from her lips, she looked away, the muscles in her jaw tightening as though she hadn’t meant to say them, though she swiftly added, “Peace is unlikely without you on the throne.”
He didn’t answer, and her eyes eventually flicked back up to meet his. The world around them He followed suit, ignoring the grime around his fingernails because he was too hungry to wait. The blurred, the noise of the common room below faded away, and the pain in his shoulder became an afterthought in the face of his desire to pull her into his arms. Their connection was endless. Timeless.
And though it had been battered and brutalized, the tension between them remained undiminished. As hard to resist as it had ever been.
You gave your word! his conscience screamed at him. Don’t you dare take advantage of a moment of weakness.
She moved closer, almost an imperceptible shift, but every instinct in his body demanded he close the distance. That he kiss her. Make love to her. Do what it took to make her forget all the hurt, and in doing so, take back all that had been lost.
Don’t! His conscience’s screams seemed further away with each passing second. She’s the one who has been hurt. The one who has been betrayed by so many. You are supposed to be the one giving her strength, not the one mining beneath all her defenses.
He forced a smirk onto his face. “If I’m so irreplaceable, then I suppose it’s in both our best interests that you ensure this wound doesn’t decide a reversal of fortune is in order.”
She blinked, a forced smile forming on her lips as she turned her attention to the injury. “Agreed.
Did Lara give you anything for the pain?”
“Yes, but I’m not taking it.” Her huffed breath of exasperation drove him to add, “It makes me tired and slow to react. I’d rather suffer the pain than sleep through someone slitting my throat.”
Zarrah was quiet for a long moment as she used the hot water to clean away the mess, and he gritted his teeth, half from the pain and half from her touch undermining the war his conscience had just won. Catching her wrist, he said, “I can do it.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want me to?”
Against his will, Keris met her gaze, her large brown eyes illuminated by the lamplight. He was used to them being filled with confidence, even though he knew it was sometimes feigned. But as he stared into their dark depths, it was uncertainty that looked back at him. Hurt.
How had they come to this? How had they gone from being so aligned in thought and feeling and purpose to barely being able to speak to one another?
Keris knew the answer.
Knew that it was trust that had allowed them to speak freely, and it was the trust between them that had suffered the greatest damage.
A faint laugh exited her lips, and he risked a sideways glance to see her smiling, though it fell away Which meant that trust was what they both needed to rebuild, and that required a level of honesty.
Letting go of her wrist, he swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to touch me, because I made a promise to you, and I’m coming to terms with the amount of willpower it will take to hold to it.”
Silence.
Regret threatened to drown him, because when was honesty ever a good idea?
“Do you have enough?” Her eyes flicked to his, then away before he could read their depths. “Of willpower, that is?”
“Yes.”
Zarrah’s brow furrowed; then she retrieved Lara’s salve, smearing it across the injury before moving behind him to do the same on the back of his shoulder. Her fingers brushed his lower back, and he twitched.
“What’s this scar from?”
It took him a moment to understand what she meant. “Oh, it’s from Lara. We had something of a quarrel when I first arrived in Eranahl. This one is from her, too.” He tapped the fading pink mark on his throat.
“Veliants,” she muttered as she looped fresh bandages around him, then passed him his shirt.
afterthought in the face of his desire to pull her into his arms. Their connection was endless. Timeless.
Though he was freezing from the draft, Keris first availed himself of both warm water and soap to scrub away the worst of the grime. He desperately needed a shave, but with no mirror and his body consumed with shivers, he’d likely cut off half his face in the process. Pulling his shirt and coat back Don’t you dare take advantage of a moment on, he went to the window and dumped the basin of soiled water into the alley below.
“I’ll turn around,” he told her, taking a seat and rooting his gaze firmly on the wall.
But not watching only heightened his other senses. The whisper of fabric as she disrobed, the splash of water, then the scrub of a cloth against naked skin. Keris bit the insides of his cheeks and squeezed his eyes shut, memory supplying that of which his eyes were deprived.
Were there changes since he’d last looked upon her? New marks and scars from her ordeal to match the wounds inflicted on her heart and mind? He wanted to ask but instead bit his tongue.
“I’m done,” she said, going to the window to pour out the basin of water. “You should get some rest.”
“Likewise.”
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Later.”
Was she afraid of lowering her guard around him? Afraid he’d take advantage?
“Yes, but I’m not taking it.” Her huffed breath of exasperation drove him to add, “It makes me tired Grabbing his bag, Keris pulled out a brown bottle full of liquid. Icy fear pooled in his hands, because he remembered the dreams that had come the last time Lara had given him this. Dreams he’d been powerless to wake from and that had left him vulnerable to the world.
He took a deep breath, then measured five drops onto his tongue. “You’ll have to wake me if there is trouble,” he said, then lay on the floor, pulling his cloak over himself against the chill.
Zarrah didn’t answer.
With each heartbeat, his pain lessened even as his fear rose, because Keris knew what was coming for him. But blackness descended, and though he clung to the light, it took his consciousness down with it.
“Yes.”
Zarrah’s brow furrowed; then she retrieved Lara’s salve, smearing it across the injury before moving behind him to do the same on the back of his shoulder. Her fingers brushed his lower back, and he twitched.
“What’s this scar from?”
It took him a moment to understand what she meant. “Oh, it’s from Lara. We had something of a quarrel when I first arrived in Eranahl. This one is from her, too.” He tapped the fading pink mark on his throat.
“Veliants,” she muttered as she looped fresh bandages around him, then passed him his shirt.