I knock anyway.
"Come in."
She's changed out of the dress, back in loose sleep clothes—a thin shirt that's slipped off one shoulder, soft pants that hang low on her hips. Her hair is unbraided now, falling in dark waves down her back, and she's sitting on the edge of her bed with her legs tucked beneath her.
The intimacy of the image hits me like a fist to the chest.
This is where she sleeps. Where she dreams. Where she's vulnerable in ways she never lets herself be during the day. And she's letting me in, trusting me in her space.
Good. She should trust me. I'm the one person in this castle who will do whatever it takes to keep her alive—even if she never knows the price.
"Your tea." I hold out the cup, and my voice comes out steady. Certain.
She takes it, her fingers brushing mine in the exchange. The touch sparks through my blood, but I don't let it show. She wraps her hands around the warmth, inhaling the steam with her eyes half-closed.
"Thank you." She drinks without hesitation, and I watch the delicate movement of her throat as she swallows. "For everything tonight. For telling me about them. For letting me see who you are underneath the guilt."
"And? What did you find?"
She reaches out and her fingers brush the back of my hand where it hangs at my side. Light as falling leaves. The touch burns, but I hold still.
"A man who's been alone too long," she says softly. "Who's forgotten that carrying something alone doesn't make you stronger. It just makes you tired."
"I am tired." I turn my hand over, catching her fingers in mine. Her hand is small in my grip, warm and alive. "I've been tired for a very long time."
"Then rest." She squeezes my fingers, but doesn't release them. Her thumb traces across my knuckles, and something in my chest cracks open.
She's not in heat. I'm not in rut. This is just us.
When she tilts her face up toward mine, I lean down and brush my lips against hers. Barely a touch. The ghost of a kiss.
She makes a small sound, her free hand curling around the back of my neck?—
I pull back.
She deserves better than a kiss built on lies.
"We should wait," I manage. "Until you're safe."
Her hand slides from my neck, disappointment flickering across her face before she tucks it away. "You're right."
But we both know I'm not stopping because of safety.
"Goodnight, Kess."
"Goodnight, Rhystan."
I leave her chambers with the ghost of her lips still burning on mine.
The bond hums faintly between us—fainter than it was a week ago, fainter than it should be. The herbs are working. She's getting stronger while our connection grows weaker.
That's the trade I've made.
Her life for our bond.
I'd make it again without hesitation.
Tomorrow I'll bring her tea again. Watch her drink it again. Watch her grow stronger while our bond grows weaker.
