"That I'm making things up to keep a four-year-old happy." But I'm almost smiling despite myself.
"A noble pursuit." His knee brushes mine again as he shifts, and this time I'm certain it's deliberate. Testing. Seeing if I'll move away.
I don't. Can't seem to make my body cooperate with what my mind insists is the sensible choice.
Amisra abandons us then, hopping up to investigate something in the garden—a butterfly or bird, some small moving thing that captures her attention completely. She drags Daryn with her, his indulgent laughter trailing behind them as they move away from the blanket.
Leaving Valas and me sitting together in sunshine, knees still touching, the space between us somehow both too much and not enough.
"She's doing well," Valas says quietly, watching Daryn crouch down to examine whatever Amisra has found. "Today, I mean. And he's having a good day."
"I know." I follow his gaze, seeing how Daryn smiles, how he points at something that makes Amisra squeal with delight. Treasuring this moment because there won't be enough of them. "He was up early. Had energy for breakfast instead of just tea."
"The good days are getting rarer." Valas doesn't look away from his friend. "I hate that. Hate knowing each one might be the last."
The rawness in his voice catches me off-guard. I turn to look at him properly, seeing past the careful composure to the grief he carries. The helplessness of watching someone die slowly and being unable to stop it despite all his knowledge and power.
"You're doing everything you can," I say softly.
"It's not enough." His jaw tightens. "It's never enough."
"No." The word is gentle, understanding. "It never is. But it still matters. You being here, trying, not giving up—it matters to Daryn. To Amisra." I pause, something honest escaping before I can stop it. "To me."
He turns then, violet eyes finding mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "Does it?"
"Yes." The admission costs me something. Pride, maybe. Or the safety of pretending I don't feel the pull between us. "You're... you're good to them. Good with her. That's not nothing."
"I want to be good to you too." He says it simply, like offering me water when I'm thirsty. Not demanding or presumptuous, just stating a truth. "If you'll let me."
My heart does something complicated in my chest. A flutter and clench that feels dangerously close to hope. "Valas?—"
"I know." He shifts slightly closer, not crowding but reducing the distance. "I know you don't trust easily. That you have every reason not to trust me specifically. I'm not asking for anything except—" He pauses, seeming to weigh his words. "Except maybe a chance. To be your friend. To know you."
Someone I'd very much like to know. That's what he'd said in the kitchen, words that have lived in my head ever since. And now he's saying it again, rephrasing, making it clear he meant it.
"We're already friends." The words escape before I can examine them too closely. "Aren't we? Sort of?"
His expression brightens, something relieved and warm transforming his features. "I'd like to think so. Though I wasn't sure you agreed."
"I didn't. At first." I look back toward where Amisra is showing Daryn a leaf, her voice carrying on the breeze. Easier to admit this without those violet eyes on me. "But you're... different than I expected. Different than?—"
"Than other dark elves?" He finishes when I trail off.
"Yes." It sounds prejudiced when said aloud. But also honest. "You don't act like you own everything around you. Don't treat people like possessions."
"Because I don't." His knee presses against mine again, and this time there's no question of it being accidental. "You're not a possession, Keira. Not to me."
"No?" I turn back to him, searching his face. "Then what am I?"
"Someone sitting next to me in sunshine," he says quietly. "Someone who makes terrible jokes seem funny because she laughs at them. Someone who's brave and kind and makes Amisra feel safe." His expression softens further. "Someone I think about more than I probably should."
The confession lands between us like something fragile. Precious. And terrifying.
"Valas—"
"Uncle Val!" Amisra's voice interrupts, saving me from having to respond. "Come do magic! Show Keira the light thing!"
"The light thing?" I manage, grateful for the distraction even as disappointment flickers through me.
