Page 129 of Given to the Black King

The water clouds pink.

“You went down,” I say.

His body tightens.

“For four heartbeats I could not see you.”

“I heard you.”

“I know.”

“The whole pass heard you.”

“Good.”

He looks up at me.

I clean the cut again. Slower.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I was not.”

“That is not the point.”

“What is?”

I put the cloth aside.

My hands are shaking now. They did not shake on the wall.

“For four heartbeats, I thought you were gone.”

He does not move.

“After that, I knew.”

I kneel between his knees and take his face in both hands.

“I chose the wall while the road was still open. That was my political choice.”

His breath stops.

“I saw you fight. I saw you kill Osk. I saw what you became when that man put a knife at my throat.”

The corners of his mouth tighten around his fangs.

“None of it changed my answer.”

“Iona.”

“I am tired of your blood on the training-yard stones. I am tired of watching your jaw hurt while you pretend it does not.”

I put my thumb against the base of one fang.

He shudders.

“I chose the wall because I was useful. I choose you because I want you.”