The entire floor was quiet, the huge windows at the end showing the early morning sky over Grebath. It had only just begun to brighten, soft gold filtering through the buildings of the city from this side of the building. If we went to our rooftop—therooftop, I corrected myself quickly—then we could see much more of the city and the small forested area in the center. Hanna walked close beside me, the faint glow of her magic brushing against mine like warm fingers at my wrist.
It was all too close. Too much. And yet… not enough. After a few minutes, she glanced up at me.
“You look tired,” she said gently. “Reallytired.”
I stiffened. “I’m fine.”
“That’s the second lie you’ve told me this morning,” she whispered
My jaw tightened. “Hanna—”
“You worried about him, didn’t you?” she asked, but she wasn’t demanding an answer. Her tone was soft, and so verysweet.
I wanted to deny it. I even opened my mouth to, but the words didn’t come.
She slowed to a stop in front of the elevator. The ding when I pressed the button told me that it hadn’t left the floor after I’d come here. The bond between us tugged at me anytime she moved, like my body refused to let her drift too far.
Her expression softened. “You came back to check on us.”
“On him,” I corrected automatically.
She raised an eyebrow as we stepped inside the elevator, trapping me in with her scent and her presence.
“Mostly,” I amended.
She took a quiet step closer. Not brushing, not touching—but close enough that warmth rolled off her skin and sank straight into me.
“I appreciate it,” she murmured. “Really.”
I swallowed hard, staring at a point somewhere over her shoulder. “He’s my responsibility.”
“That’s not all it is,” she said it softly.
Not accusing or pushing. Just a simple truth placed between us like a candle flame that we were both aware could burn us.The air tightened around us and I stepped back instinctively, needing space before something inside me cracked open.
“Hanna,” I warned.
She didn’t move. “You don’t have to want to be around me. I’m not asking you to.”
My chest ached as the old fear surged, thick and sharp, the memory of my father’s hollow eyes carved into my ribs.
“I can’t—” My voice broke, and I hated it. “I can’t lose someone like that after I... I won’t do it.”
Her eyes softened even as she had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I was barely making sense to myself, much less to her. But there was no pity in her eyes. She shook her head gently.
“I’m not trying to drag you into anything,” she whispered. “I just… want you to know you’re not alone in this. Whateverthisis.”
The bond pulsed low and warm—not demanding, not overpowering. Just… present. A steady heartbeat at the edge of my own. The thing about the bond that Ididknow, was that I’d never met an orc who’d fought it. But that was what I was trying to do and I didn’t know what the consequences of that would be, but I’d face them when they came. They couldn’t be as bad as the thought of losing myself. Of losingher.
“Hanna…” I whispered, and it came out raw.
She looked up at me. And in her eyes, for the first time, I saw everything she hadn’t wanted me to. There was a quiet acceptance, a gentle waiting andsomuch patience. She was careful with me in a way no one had ever been. I took a shaky breath.
“I didn’t sleep,” I admitted quietly. “Because I kept imagining something might happen to you. And I didn’t like the feeling.”
Her lips parted, surprise flickering there—but so did something softer. Something that felt dangerously like hope.
Before she could speak, Ribbon croaked loudly and we both startled. The toad was standing between the open doors of the elevator that was now on my floor, staring at us with a very clear expression.
