"For you to come away from the edge."
"The what?"
Without even looking up at her, he waved a hand and sent her out of this realm and back into her own body. Rose blinked and suddenly she was staring at the wide open expanse of Trollveggen. The mountain was hollow, after all, and right now it was all spread out in front of her beneath the cliff face without a single thing between her and a dizzying fall.
"Please," she heard Gunnar say behind her. His tone wasn't quite begging, but it was certainly something akin to it. "Take my hand, Rose. Please."
She looked back at him over her shoulder, feeling a breeze ruffle the trailing strands of her hair. "You could just order me to do that."
"I won't take that right away from you. Not even now." His hand, that clawed hand she had taken so many times, remained unwavering before her gaze. "Now let me pull you away from the edge."
Rose took a deep breath, feeling tension fading from her shoulders. Apparently even her body had been a little nervous at how close she was to certain death.
A question burned in her chest, though it flew out from her lips. "Why haven't you given up yet?"
His brow creased. "Given up?"
"On me. Someday I'm going to accidentally walk off a cliff, and I won't be all that sad about it. I don't think I'm fixable, Gunnar."
It wasn't the first time she'd said it to him, but it was the first time she'd seen his expression harden like that. How long had they been dancing like this? Her putting herself in dangerous situations, him rushing to save her? It must have been months now. Months of him telling her that he wasn't going to give up, and her reminding him that she had no interest whatsoever in whatever game he was playing.
Gunnar shrugged, and she watched the breeze play through his hair, too. He'd twisted braids through it today, twin braids that kept the hair out of his face. His stocky chest was framed by a shirt split open along his pectorals, showing off all the muscles there.
"I like putting things back together," he finally said. "And I don't believe anything is broken forever. Neither are you. I have faith that you will find your way back to yourself, Rose. And I'll be here to watch that beautiful moment happen."
"I broke those pieces myself. Shattered whatever remained of who I once was and turned her inside out." She shook her head. "You're wasting your time. I give it only a few more months before some accident befalls me."
"Not on my watch." He waited until she took his hand, and then gently tugged her away from the edge she’d wandered to. It didn't escape her notice that he was very careful to make sure he didn't touch any part of her other than her hand. He was always considerate like that. "Everyone deserves a second chance at life. I believe that, and I think you do too."
She didn't.
But he made her want to believe.
Twelve
Rose
PRESENT
Rose had spent a lot of time in Trollveggen, and much had happened since she'd been brought here.
The trolls had brought her sister back, for one. Rose had been the one to tell them where to find the priestess who had helped them considerably. They had defeated the king, for another. Killing King James had brought her a considerable amount of peace which should have, theoretically, pieced all the parts of her mind back together that felt the need to run.
It hadn't helped all that much.
Instead, she was here. With her sister. Getting dragged through the streets because the trolls had some spectacle that she apparently had to see while Rose wanted nothing more than to disappear. She could fade into the background, maybe. Or perhaps she could startle herself enough that she would be able to go back into that place with Rhydian.
The elf had been acting strange lately. They had been working on his book for a long time, and they were almost donewith it. A masterpiece, he said. But every time he claimed it was something to be proud of, she could tell that he was saddened by the thought.
She'd tried to ease that sadness by reminding him they could work on another book. There was still more research. He'd claimed to have a plan for her, but now that plan seemed to have faded. She wasn't sure why.
"Rose?" Astrid's voice broke through her thoughts. "You still with me?"
"I'm still with you."
She was annoyed by how many times her sister asked that question. Astrid liked to think that Rose was delicate. Fragile. A glass figurine that could break at any moment.
Sure, Rose could have told her exactly why she was disappearing. But it was easier not to answer questions. People thought she was odd, that her mind was off, and that gave her certain leeway that others didn't have. Like wandering through the streets in the middle of the night with no one questioning what she was doing or why she was doing it.
