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But he kept his head high.
Nesryn felt, more than saw,
Nesryn didn’t let herself look too long at the life growing beneath that bejeweled hand.
And Chaol could not go to her, could not scoop her into his arms and hold her close.
As if she had forgotten anyone else in the world existed. He didn’t blame her.
Chaol considered his next words carefully, then simply chose the most obvious one. “Why?”
I knew her. As I know my own heart.” He put a hand over it. “She would not have jumped.”
He knew it in his bones,
Even if every instinct screamed at him
It had been over two years since then.
the one word that had clenched a fist around her heart: Stay.
“The prince does not seem like a man easily deterred—certainly not in matters of the heart.”
But I remembered.
“You do not know his story, Yrene. I suggest listening to it before contemplating such things.”
“Where has this young woman been hiding? What god reared you, guided you to my doorstep?
Stay,
And even now … it was an honor beyond words, yes. But one that rang hollow.
The words had guided her these years—along with the note she carried every day, moving it from pocket to pocket, dress to dress.
“It is a soul-wound, Yrene. And letting it fester these years … I cannot blame you. But I will hold you accountable if you let it turn into something worse. And I will mourn you for it.”
“Know that wherever the road takes you, however dark, you will be all right.”
So many things, so many good things, had come from that night.
“Give her time.”
Always a lesson, always a test. “It tells me …” Yrene blew out a breath. “It tells me I don’t know as much as I assumed.” She straightened. “But it also doesn’t forgive them of any sins.”
“knows when to ask for help.”
That fast, the light winked out from his eyes.
Pathetic. Though she’d never been particularly good at avoiding her cravings. She’d started sleeping with him that summer because she didn’t see the point in resisting where her interest tugged her. Even if she hadn’t cared for him, not as she did now.
but … she still cared. Yet she had not reached out to him. Had not wanted to open that door she’d spent months trying to shut. She’d hated herself for it, thought about it at least once a day.
she’d done her best not to crumple up with shame as she ignored him, suffered through his praise, the pride still in his words when he spoke of her.
And then that echo of nothingness … it seemed to awaken.
