“Stop helping.” Ronan points to the door. “Get out.”
Karis clears his throat. “Thank you, Evain, that was important.”
Evain’s grin widens. “Glad you’re awake now, anyway. See you around.” He retreats before any blood vessels burst in Ronan’s forehead.
Then they’re alone again. Ronan doesn’t sit back down on the bed. He walks to Karis’s side and drops to both knees on the floor beside him. The lamplight illuminates the lines of his face, the clear tension beneath the grime and stubble. He braces himself with one hand on the edge of the bed, nowhere near touching Karis.
“I really am sorry,” Ronan says softly.
Karis exhales and doesn’t allow himself to look away. Part of him just wants to laugh everything off. To bury the betrayal deep inside himself and forget it ever happened. To act like he’s fine having been abandoned. To pretend that now that Ronan’s come back, he won’t be worried about it again.
But that’s the problem. He doesn’t even know if Ronan’s really come back to him yet. His apologies all sound sofinal, and that scares Karis more than anything.
Karis lifts his chin. “What are you sorry for?”
Ronan’s fingers dig into the white blanket. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I was trying to keep you safe, but I only put you in more danger. As soon as I realized—”
“Nope.” Karis’s fingers dig into the blanket too, twisting into the soft cotton around his knees, to keep himself from grabbing Ronan’s hand instead. “You can’t apologize for the danger,” he tells Ronan sternly. “That was Neradt and the rest of his cronies. Besides. If I wanted to besafe, I wouldn’t have stayed with the asshole who kidnapped me at knifepoint.” He raises his hand to cut off Ronan’s next words. “You can apologize for the kidnapping later, at length, because I think I’ll enjoy it. But that isn’t what I’m mad about now either.”
Ronan breathes in deeply, and finally reaches for Karis’s hand. His calluses scrape against Karis’s skin, and his thumb rubs Karis’s knuckles. Their palms meet, Karis’s pulse hammering against Ronan’s scars, and when he trembles, Ronan only holds him tighter.
“Tell me, then,” Ronan says. “I’m no good at guessing with you.”
Emotion stings behind Karis’s eyes. For once, he doesn’t fight it. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me. You just—you didn’t give me a choice at all, you just left. Maybe if you’d explained, I would have agreed, but I couldn’t, because I still don’t really knowwhy—”
Coarse fingers move under his lashes, wiping away his tears. “You wouldn’t have agreed,” Ronan says roughly, “because it was a stupid plan. I was so scared of getting you hurt, it fucked with my head. I made a mistake. It didn’t even make sense strategically, I was just… desperate. I thought I was doing it for you, but I was only thinking about myself.”
Karis sniffles, not trying to hide his blotchy face. “What about,” he starts, his voice going even quieter. “What you said before, when—was that just a distraction?”
Ronan’s hand tightens around his. “You can cast a truth spell on me if you need to,” he says, low and urgent, his eyes burning dark. “I do love you, Karis Cooper. I’ll love you whether or not you take me back.”
The words flip through Karis’s heart. Oh. So Ronandoeswant to be with him again.
Karis bites his lip on several hasty declarations. He squeezes Ronan’s hand, then extricates his. “I want you back,” he says, not making eye contact. “But I should tell you a bit more about… everything, before you decide whether you’re up for it. I’m not… There’s a lot I didn’t tell you either.”
A slow grin spreads across Ronan’s face. He leans in, and Karis’s eyes flutter closed as warm lips press to his forehead. He likes that. Hereallylikes that.
“First I’m getting you something to eat,” Ronan says. “Is that all right?”
“Yeah,” Karis says, weakly. “And tell Dansa and the others to give us an extra hour too.”
***
Ronan comes back ten minutes later with a tray of food and a freshly-washed face and hands. He looks rather more alive than he did when Karis first woke up. He sets the tray down at the room’s long table and lights more lamps before returning to Karis’s bedside.
“I can walk.” Karis swings his feet over the edge. But when he tries to stand, his knees buckle, and he sways against Ronan’s warm, familiar bulk. “You know what I said about trusting me?” he mumbles into that broad chest.
“Yeah?” Ronan’s hands are steady under Karis’s elbows.
“Forget about it right now, I guess.”
He lets Ronan help him to the table, where he sits at the short end and Ronan pulls a chair up close around the long side. After inspecting the simple fruit, bread, and chicken on the tray, he orders Ronan to peel grapes for him. Not that he dislikes grape peels; he just likes the way Ronan agrees to the tedious task without rolling his eyes. His mind strays considering how to maximize the benefits of Ronan’s groveling for as long as it lasts.
“I don’t remember the first time I heard Vara,” Karis says, five grapes later. “I think I was around six when I realized he was someone else, not just a different flavor of my own thoughts.”
Ronan sets another peeled grape on his side of the tray.
“He was helpful, sometimes. He was nice to me, and he was always there, which was nice because my parents were very busy.” Karis squishes the grape a little between his fingers. It’s somewhat mangled from being peeled. “He told me not to tell anyone about him, but he never told me why not. There were a few things he never talked about, or couldn’t talk about, and I didn’t put them together until you told me about the binding.” Karis pops the grape into his mouth, watching with satisfaction as Ronan peels another. “The trouble started when I was ten. I was a bit of a brat at that point.”
