“I know,” I said. “It’s still a little unsettling.”
He unfolded the cloth. I could tell it was damp. He’d come prepared.
I stepped into the room, but stayed near the door.
Caspian didn’t cross the threshold.
He reached in.
I leaned forward.
It was ridiculous.
It was somehow worse than if he had walked in and taken over.
The cloth touched the corner of my mouth.
Cold and damp. Clean linen. His hand steady enough to pass for calm.
The lines on my wrist tightened beneath my sleeve.
He saw my breath catch.
I felt his do the same. Somehow. Through whatever magic it was that drew us together.
His thumb held the cloth at my chin. His other hand stayed at his side, curled once, then opened.
“Let me protect you,” he said.
I pulled back before the cloth could touch my mouth again.
“No.”
His hand lowered.
“Astra, I can help you. If you??—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“I was raised for this.”
“For what? For a forced bond so you can stand between me and the world until no one can tell where I end and you begin?”
His hand lowered.
“That is not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant. Because you were parroting what you were told. It just sounded better in your head than it did when you said it out loud and I called you on it.”
For a moment, I thought he would argue.
I was shocked when he didn’t.
“You’re right,” he finally said, then folded the cloth. “I thought this would be simpler.”
“What would?”
He waved a hand. “This. You.”
