I feel the shift of weight on the bed beside me just before I feel the warmth of his palm resting gently over my side, under the layers of the blanket. He lies beside me, moving closer as if understanding that that small contact might ease my pain. The intimacy of it crumbles what little defenses I have around my emotions, and soon, my body is wracked with unchecked sobs.
With such tenderness, he brushes my hair away with his hand, and I find myself wanting to just curl up into him and never let go.
“We have to fly tomorrow,” I sob. “I’m scared I won’t be able to go.” I can feel the tension in his body as he lets out a heavy, exasperated sigh. He pulls me closer until I’m tucked into his side.
He’s quiet for a minute. “Let me take you to the healers,” he pleads quietly. “If they won’t see you, we’ll fly to Kyrr or Malaya. Whatever it takes.”
The mention of Malaya, Anders’ home, sends a strange rush of nausea through me; the thought of traveling to a place I haven’tvisited since childhood, especially with him, fills me with a strange mix of anxiety and longing.
The truth feels heavy. Somehow, we’ve become close enough that he’s lying in bed with me. He knows the deepest secret I have, and he is the sole owner of that knowledge. Somewhere along the way, even if we haven’t talked about it, I know…deep down I know, in some small way, we’re in this together. But are we together, together? It’s a question I keep asking myself and keep coming up short.
“Did you eat dinner?” I force the words out as I try to distract myself from the emotions clawing at my insides.
“Trysten is leaving something in my room. Raea,” he breathes out, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Please, don’t do that.”
With a shaky breath, I reach out, my fingers trembling slightly as I find his hand. The warmth of his skin against mine steadies me for a moment, grounding me amidst the chaos swirling inside. I look up when he laces our fingers together, catching his gaze. At that moment, I realize he’s looking at me in a way that no one ever has. It’s a blend of concern, tenderness, and something more profound that makes my heart race. I swallow hard.
“Please,” he pleads softly.
I squeeze my eyes shut and nod, surrendering, before opening my eyes just in time to see the tension drain from his shoulders as he stands, carefully pulling back the blankets. He carefully helps me out of bed, one hand resting on my hip while the other wraps around my arm, steadying me. Only then do I remember I’m dressed in a thin nightgown.
Once I feel stable enough to walk alone, he rushes into my closet, his movements quick as I hear drawers slamming closed. He emerges moments later, holding my cloak and a pair of fuzzy socks. With a gentle touch that is at odds with who he is, he drapes the cloak around my shoulders, fastening the three buttons before dropping to his knees before me.
He grips my ankle, allowing me to steady myself on his shoulder as he slips on the socks for me, his fingers brushing against my skin with a delicate touch. I might enjoy this moment more if I wasn’t in somuch pain. I’m not sure Anders, the arrogant, dark prince, would kneel before anyone.
“I need shoes,” I sniffle, trying to regain some dignity. He shakes his head decisively.
“No, I’m carrying you,” he states firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“What? No—” I start to protest, but he scoops me effortlessly into his arms before I can finish. The sudden motion takes me by surprise, eliciting a release of unexpected tears as I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, searching my face.
I shake my head, my heart swelling with gratitude and something more. I let my head rest against his shoulder, surrendering to the moment. For a fleeting instant, I inhale deeply, breathing him in. His scent and familiarity feel like a balm to my soul. I allow myself to pretend, just for a moment, that he’s mine and this is normal, to forget everything else, and to just allow myself to be held.
I must have drifted off because when I open my eyes again, I find myself in a bed at the healer’s Center. Anders is sitting in a chair beside me, his hand wrapped in mine, sleeping with his head resting on a pillow at the edge of the bed. Above us, the two moons are halfway across the sky. It’s late.
I shift in the bed and realize, for the first time, that there’s no pain. I sigh in relief, letting my head fall to the side to take him in. What is it between us that keeps forcing us together? And why is he still here? He could have dropped me off and returned to the dorms to eat and sleep. I’m not the only one who has to fly tomorrow, and guilt settles in my stomach, making me uneasy.
“Anders,” I whisper, brushing my thumb across the back of his hand. He stirs but doesn’t wake. I try again, and this time, his head shoots up from the pillow. Pillow creases line his face, and he looks so tired. “Go back to the dorms. Get some sleep.”
He stands, scrubbing his hands down his face before forcing one hand to tame his hair. He sits on the edge of the bed, retaking myhand, and I blush when he does. What I said or did in pain was one thing, but now…
“Really?” he asks, chuckling, a slight grin pulling at his lips. “Let’s get you back. They said you were free to go when you woke up. Also, they won’t be sending you away next time you come.”
Something flickers in his expression, but he doesn’t explain further as he helps me into a sitting position. He stands, wrapping my cloak around me, and it suddenly hits me that he carried me the whole way.
Gods…why?
“I can walk,” I blurt out. He snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, the simple move making his chest seem like a wall of muscle and emphasizing just how capable his arms are of holding me.
“You don’t have shoes. I’m not letting you walk across campus in socks.”
“Well, I do remember asking you for shoes, which you didn’t grab, so excuse me, but this is your fault. I’ll walk.” I stand, testing my legs and twisting to find there’s nothing left of the pain.
I take a few steps toward the door when Anders scoops me into his arms. I let out a yelp as he cradles me to his chest.
“Put me down, you big oaf!” I squawk, slapping his chest. He chuckles darkly in response and squeezes me tighter. I’m aware of every point of contact. This is humiliating, and gods, I passed out the last time. “Anders, I can walk.”
