But it feels selfish, doesn't it? Falling for her while my closest friend dies. Flirting in sunshine while darkness creeps closer. Every moment of joy feels stolen, bittersweet, like eating honey while the world burns.
I shove the scrolls into my satchel with more force than necessary. Need to stop thinking. Need to move, do something productive instead of drowning in thoughts that lead nowhere good.
My practice awaits. Then the apothecaries in the city center—I've been meaning to restock supplies, consult with a few colleagues about experimental treatments. Anything to feel less useless.
I'm halfway down the corridor, almost to the kitchen, when Daryn's voice stops me.
"Valas."
He's leaning against the doorframe, looking more tired than he did this morning but still upright. Still here. The relief that floods through me is sharp enough to hurt.
"I thought you were resting." I adjust my satchel, trying not to let worry bleed into my voice.
"I was." He waves a hand dismissively. "Got bored. Amisra's napping and I needed to catch you before you left."
"Is something wrong?" I'm already cataloging symptoms, running through possibilities.
"No. Well, yes, but not medically." He pushes off the doorframe, moving closer with careful steps that tell me today's energy is already waning. "I need you to do something for me."
"Anything." The word comes automatically. Truthfully.
"Take Keira with you." He says it casually, like suggesting I bring extra coin for the market.
I blink. "What?"
"Into the city. Take her with you." His expression is perfectly innocent, which immediately makes me suspicious. "I need some specific items and you'll need help carrying everything."
"Daryn—"
"Those herbs for pain from Mistress Veylara's shop. More ink and parchment from the market square. Oh, and stop by the bakery—Amisra would love those honey cakes." He's ticking items off on his fingers now, the list conveniently expanding. "You'll definitely need an extra pair of hands."
"Right." I study his face, seeing through this transparent manipulation. "And it has nothing to do with you trying to—what, exactly?"
"Get you supplies?" His smile is too knowing. "Spend time with my daughter? I have no idea what you're implying."
"What about Amisra?" I counter, because there's a genuine question beneath his scheming. "If Keira comes with me?—"
"I'm feeling fine today." His voice softens, something sad flickering behind his eyes. "Better than I have in weeks. And I'd like to spend some time with just her. Quality time while I—" He stops, but we both know how that sentence ends. While I still can.
My throat tightens. "Daryn."
"Please." He reaches out, gripping my shoulder with a hand that trembles slightly. "Let me do this. Let me have this afternoon with my daughter. And let yourself have one with Keira."
The grief rises fast and sharp. This wonderful, infuriating man who's dying and still trying to arrange everyone else's happiness. Who sees me struggling with feelings I shouldn't have time for and pushes me toward them anyway.
"You're shameless," I manage.
"I'm practical." His grip tightens. "You're here every day, wearing yourself thin trying to save me. Taking care of everyoneexcept yourself. And when you do let yourself feel something good, you look guilty about it." His eyes hold mine. "Stop. Just for an afternoon, stop carrying everything and let yourself want something. Someone."
"It feels wrong." The admission escapes before I can stop it. "Being happy while you're?—"
"Dying?" He says it simply, matter-of-fact. "I'm dying either way, Valas. You suffering more doesn't change that. Your happiness doesn't steal from mine." His expression gentles. "Actually, knowing you're moving forward, finding something worth fighting for—that would be a gift. Let me give you that."
I have to look away before the burning in my eyes becomes something more. "You're manipulating me."
"Absolutely." He releases my shoulder, stepping back with a smile that's pure mischief despite the exhaustion underneath. "Is it working?"
"Yes, damn you."
