“Let me help you forget,” I murmur as I lean into him.
“No.”
He lifts me gently off his lap and lays me beside him, on the white sheets.
I want to punch something, but I don’t. He’s grieving. He can justnotbe in the mood.
“It would help you,” I whisper.
“Baby girl, I don’t want to. It would feel like spitting on Nulok…”
Why didn’t I think of it that way?
“I’m so sorry. You’re right.”
He shifts us until he’s nestled against me, clinging like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“Thank you for being with me.” He speaks so softly I almost think I’ve imagined it, until his hand finds mine and our fingers tangle together.
I trace small circles over the back of his hand. His grip tightens slightly, as if reassuring himself that I am still here. I can feel the tension in him, the raw edges of his pain, and it twists my chest.
“Can I stay like this?” I murmur, pressing my forehead lightly against his. His breathing is uneven, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just… be here.”
I nod, letting my fingers wander, memorising the way his body fits against mine. For a moment, the world outside the room ceases to exist—the war, the forest, Nulok’s death—they all fade into shadows at the edge of my mind.
All that remains is him, trembling, but alive.
I will make sure that he lives through it.
He presses a hand against my waist, tentative at first, then more firmly, like anchoring himself. I can feel his heart hammering against mine, desperate and fragile, and I wish I could take some of the weight off him.
I wish I could pull all the darkness into my own chest and let him breathe freely. I already wear the weight of so many, I can wear Nulok’s for him.
“I can’t fix it,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “I can’t make it go away. But I am here. I will always be here, my love.”
A quiet shudder runs through him, and he nuzzles closer, burying his face against my neck. “That’s enough,” he whispers. “That’s more than enough.”
I let my hands drift through his hair, over his shoulders, holding him steady, letting the warmth between us speak louder than words ever could.
Minutes pass, or maybe hours; I’ve lost count. Every time his body relaxes slightly, I feel a small victory, a tiny crack in the armor his grief has built around him.
Finally, his voice breaks the silence. “I don’t deserve this,” he says, low and vulnerable.
“Yes, you do,” I say firmly. “You deserve to be held, to be wanted, even when the world is screaming at you.” I say the words that he told me so many times in those initials monthsafter I killed my family. “And I won’t let you fight alone. You are never going to be alone, do you understand?”
He sighs, almost inaudibly, and squeezes my hand again. I lean in, pressing a light kiss to the back of his wrist, just enough to let him feel I am still here.
His grip loosens, just a little, and I let him breathe, letting him exist in this small, fragile bubble of comfort.
And for the first time since Nulok, I think maybe, just maybe, he might survive this night without losing himself completely.
I will make sure of it.
Chapter 19
My initial admiration for the market-square-like construction, with its buildings crafted from the surrounding nature, faded fast once the Heart becamefreakingcrowded. My three companions and I are now hemmed in by an angry mob of Vikans and mongrels. The only faction missing seems to be the shapeshifters, though I suppose Aidon represents them well enough.
