The moonlight hits her eyes just right, and for the briefest moment, I see something crack in them.
Not rage. Not irritation.Not hate. Something raw.
I swallow, unsure of what to do with it. With her. With the fact that she had come for me.
------------? ? ? ? ?------------
Serenya
The question hangs in the air between us. I stare at him. This infuriating, reckless, idiot of a man, soaked in swamp water and blood and half a breath from death, and somehow still managing to look at me like I’m being unreasonable.
Gods, I hate this.
“I don’t know,” I snap, crossing my arms.
It comes out sharper than I intended. Maybe that’s good, though. Maybe sharpness will cut through the tangled mess of whatever this is.
“I don’t know why it matters. It's just…I—” I make a frustrated sound and start pacing again, the hem of my soaked dress catching in the roots because I hadn’t taken the time to change before I rushed here.
“I’ve known you for what? Two weeks? In that time, you’ve insulted me, ignored my instructions, and have nearly gotten yourself killed not once, but twice!”
I stop and spin toward him.
“And for some godsdamned reason, when my shadows warned me something was wrong, I didn’t hesitate. I didn't even think. I just ran for you. Like a fool. You do not get to sit there and ask mewhy it matters. Like I’m just supposed toknow. ”
His brows draw together, but he doesn’t speak.
“And if you say one more word,” I add, “especially if it’s something charming or noble or vaguely irritating, I will throw that empty waterskin at your head.”
He blinks. “That waterskin is enchanted.”
“Iknow. It’ll hit harder.”
Koen gives a weak laugh, and for some reason, that only makes me angrier.
“Why are you laughing?” I demand.
“Because,” he says, his voice raspy from whatever had hit his lungs earlier, “you saved my life, and now you’re threatening to knock me out again with a canteen.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, dragging my hands down my face. “You are actually impossible, Koen Moriver.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I know you didn’t!” I shout. “That’s the entire problem!”
My voice echoes through the trees, bouncing off ruined stone. I can feel my magic shifting in my veins again, shadowscoiling along my skin, wanting to rise, to go to him, but I push it down.
Silence stretches between us.
He looks at me carefully, dark hair soaked and clinging to his brow, eyes darker now under the bruises.
“You didn’t have to,” he says softly.
“I know,” I whisper.
I hate how small my voice sounds. He’s right. I hadchosento come for him. Chosen to risk my safety for someone I claim not to like. Someone I didn’t want to like. Someone Ishouldn’tlike.
Now, here we are. In this swamp. With a mawless still lurking. And the only thing that makes less sense than any of it ishim.
