“They think I did this on purpose,” she said when she heard me.
“They think survival requires suspicion,” I said. “They are not wrong.”
She turned. “You don’t believe that.”
“I believe you didn’t mean for this to happen.” I closed the distance between us.
Her shoulders trembled, not from cold. “If someone dies because of me—”
“They won’t.”
The words came without effort. I took her hand, grounding us both. “I’ll do everything I can to stop it.”
She looked down at our joined hands, then up at me. “You can’t protect everyone.”
“I can try.” I held her gaze. “It’s the only thing that keeps me from becoming what I was.”
Lightning flashed over the ridge, white and sudden. For an instant, her face was all light and shadow.
“You shouldn’t have to fight for me,” she whispered.
“I’m not fighting for you,” I said quietly. “I’m fighting for what we might choose.”
Her breath caught.
The wind shifted, carrying the clean scent of rain and the metallic edge of storm. Thunder rolled through the valley.
“What if we can’t be anything?” she asked. “What if the world outside never lets us?”
“Then we make our own.”
She searched my face for a long moment, something fragile and stubborn in her eyes. Then she stepped forward and pressed her forehead lightly against my chest.
I steadied her with a hand at the back of her neck.
She tilted her head up, studying me. “You always sound so sure.”
“I’ve learned to say it until it’s true.”
A small smile touched her mouth. “That’s a good trick.”
Lightning flared again, closer. She flinched; I drew her in without thinking, my arms closing around her. Outside, thunder chased its own echo down the valley.
When she looked up again, the space between us had disappeared.
Her fingers brushed the base of my throat, the tremor in them no longer fear.
“Rygnar,” she said, quiet as the rain beginning on stone.
I lowered my head, stopping just short of her lips. “We still have time. Before they come.”
She nodded once. “Then don’t waste it.”
The kiss was slow, deliberate, and deepening gradually. Outside, the wind rose, carrying the scent of rain and iron. Inside, the lamps dimmed to a soft pulse like the mountain’s heartbeat.
When we broke apart, she rested her palm against my chest.
“Whatever happens, I’m not running.”
