Emrys had been smiling, teasing,present, at dinner. Now that I knew what he could be like without the curse clawing at him, I’d hoped to see more of that—to have him experience some relief—even if I’d known deep down that his lightheartedness would be short-lived.
I just hadn’t thought it would bethisshort-lived.
Emrys’s walls weren’t up. His emotions hit me like a sudden wave, so powerful and suffocating I stumbled on my first step into the tent. Shame and self-loathing roiled through him, battling for dominance.
He was shirtless, sitting on the unforgiving, hard ground. Hunched over, his elbows were on his knees, face buried in his hands.
I took a labored step forward, and another through the fog of his overwhelming depression. The truth was crystal clear now.
Thiswas what Emrys had been doing every time he shut himself in his room. This hunched-over, folded-into-himself ball of suffering was the shape of his torment. Every time I’d passed his door and felt nothing but silence, he’d been folding the blade of his anger back toward himself.
This man, who could level the side of a mountain then walk away from it without the slightest hint of exhaustion, was curled in on himself like a child. His battle-worn frame seemed impossibly large, yet he tried to shrink it, as if he could disappear into his agony.
The firelight from outside cast his silhouette in shadow, making the black of his hair disappear into the night. I stopped when my legs brushed against his knees, hating that I could feel his hostility gnaw at him from the inside out.
A whispered plea came from my lips. “Let me in, Emrys.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.
I stood over him for a moment more. Then, gently, I asked, “Can I touch you?”
The nod was barely perceptible. He still didn’t meet my eyes, didn’t move at all.
With him so vulnerable, I wanted to erase any distance between us. Wanted him to feel that another heart beat next to his, that I was here with him, even through his pain. I let my robe drop to the floor at my feet.
In only my nightdress, I crouched and slowly ran my hands up his arms. His muscles were coiled so tightly under my fingers I thought they might snap. I reached his shoulders and pressed my thumbs there, massaging gently, trying to ease his silent tension.
“If you can’t talk, that’s okay,” I whispered. “But if you can, I want to know what’s wrong.”
He didn’t speak, but when I wrapped my arms around him, leaning slightly to hold him close, he let out a breath that shook his entire body. For a long time, neither of us said anything. We just breathed together.
The change in him was subtle and slow, but it built as I held him, like a sliver of sunlight slowly piercing storm clouds. His sorrow receded enough for appreciation to take its place.
The emotion landed in my heart like a song because he appreciatedme.
After a few more moments, he pulled me down onto his lap. I went willingly, settling in with my head on his shoulder and my arm around the breadth of his back. But Emrys wasn’t fully back to me yet—his free hand remained limp at his side.
“I… I’m sorry about the scout,” he murmured, voice rough. “And…today.”
I waited.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask.” His voice nearly broke. The curse wasn’t twisting it in anger as I’d heard it do so many times before; it was breaking his voice with fangs of self-loathing. “I broke my one promise to you, Isca.”
My throat tightened. He meant the magic that he’d used to tear me away from the scene of the horses bolting. After the midnight disaster in the library, he’d promised to always ask before touching me.
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “You were only trying to protect me.”
“It’s not okay,” he breathed. “I ruin everything I touch.”
“Oh, Emrys.” I shifted slightly and reached for his limp hand, curling both of ours into my lap. I twined my fingers through his. They were rough, but warm and welcoming.
That made me feel bold, a feeling Emrys so frequently inspired in me.
I sat up a little and moved his hand to rest against my chest, right over my heart. I flattened it there with both of mine, hoping he could feel it.
“Am I a bad person?”
His head snapped up, and for the first time he looked at me properly, though only for a fraction of a moment. His answer was poetry. “Everyone falls under your spell because you’re the best example of humanity. I’ve never seen anything brighter in my life, Isca.”
