He nodded.
The other two lines eased back, but they didn’t leave.
“If they ask tomorrow whether I want them severed...”
Caspian looked at my wrist, then back at my face.
“Tell the truth.”
“What if the truth hurts you?”
“It will.”
That stopped me.
The lamp hissed once.
I pulled his coat tighter around my shoulders.
“My answer is the same as before. I don’t want them severed.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I can feel them,” he said. “And I can feel you trying not to pretend they are gone. And it hurts you. I don’t want anything to hurt you, Astra.”
The bond went very still.
“That sounds almost noble.”
“It isn’t. I do not want to be another person you have to survive.”
His gaze stayed on mine. The steadiness of it undid me more than softness would have.
I remembered his mouth at my throat. His hand under my knee. The careful breaking when I had told him not to be so careful. I remembered the weight of him over me and the sound he made when I said his name against his skin.
I moved before I could consider if it was wise.
Caspian watched me cross the space between us.
I sat beside him, close enough for our shoulders to touch, and rested my head there before he could decide whether he was allowed to offer it.
He went very quiet.
His breath caught.
Then his hand rose to my hair.
Slowly, gently, he ran his fingers through it.
For a while, that was all we managed.
My head found his shoulder. His cheek rested against my hair after a long negotiation with himself that I felt through the bond and chose not to mock. The coat covered both of us. Kind of.
Somewhere beyond the wall, Kieran shifted. I felt the pain of it, then felt him swallow it down and make it into something pointed enough to survive.
Farther away, Hale’s line held.
