No one has ever asked me that.
"It's not. I fought against it." The honesty feels like opening a vein. "I sat outside with my wyvern and listed all the reasons I should hate you."
And kill you.I leave that part out.
She laughs again. "Did you come up with many?"
"Dozens." My mouth does something almost traitorous. "You broke into my quarters. Stole from me. Lied to my face while dancing with me."
"And yet you're still here." Her voice goes soft. "I'm sorry."
That catches me off guard. "For what?"
"For this complication."
"You have nothing to apologize for. Neither of us chose this."
"I can still be sorry it's causing you pain." She studies me quietly. "I can see it in your eyes. This is hurting you."
The girl is too kind.
Why couldn't she be the monster I expected?
Why couldn't she make this easy?
The pain catches her before she can hide it, her hand moving to her temple, a sharp little wince.
"Lie down," I say.
She obeys without question.
Trusting fool.
She settles back against the pillows. I drag a chair to the head of the bed and turn it toward her. My hands find her temples. I let healing thread through my fingers slowly, following the ache, easing the pressure where the memory tried to claw its way up and couldn't. Her breathing steadies.
From here it would be so easy.
Her throat is right there, pulse visible and unguarded. One motion. I came into this room intending exactly that, my reasons lined up neat and ready.
She's too trusting. Letting an enemy commander sit at her bedside without flinching. My mate is too soft for this world.
The thought stops me again. My mate.
I don't know when I stopped fighting that word.
I pour more life through the bond, careful not to overwhelm her. Her pain recedes in small increments beneath my touch.
"I have to tell you something." My hands slow but don't stop. "When I walked in tonight, I came here to kill you."
Silence.
She opens her eyes slowly, just enough to find mine. Her fingers lift from the pillow and rest lightly over my hand where it cups her temple. Only a murmur leaves her lips.
"Landon."
No fear. No anger. She says my name the way someone catches a child in a small lie.
"Thank you for being honest with me," she says quietly.
