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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.
If he had an ally, a true friend,
“I don’t need to face anything. I know what happened before, during, and after.” Yrene stood perfectly still, those too-old eyes utterly unfazed. “We’ll see about that.”
“She was three years old.”
I had made a promise to someone,
He wondered what that smile would look like if she ever was truly amused—happy.
“Please do not give me this hope and let it crumble,” he said hoarsely.
“Just Chaol.”
I’ll look after you.” Useless as it would be. “Then work on me later—” “I will work on you now. I am not going to let them scare me away.” Her voice did not tremble or waver.
“The day I reached these shores, I cast aside that girl. And I will be damned if I let her reemerge. Or let someone tell me what to do with my life, my choices again.”
“No. But pain can feel alive. Maybe this is no different. And maybe it does not want to let go.”
“Am I so easy to read?”
“Where do you want me to meet you?” She debated calling it off. Wondered what she’d been thinking, asking him of all people to come.
Perhaps it was for that alone that she had declined dinner. If he had not broken, then she would not break—not in seeing him as anything but what he was.
Glimmers had sometimes shivered past her. Nothing she could make out, but they felt … they had felt like memories. Nightmares. Perhaps both. Yet he had not asked her to stop.
Lord Chaol had not asked her to stop not just because he’d learned how to manage pain, but also because he somehow felt he deserved it.
Everything hurt.
He’d been left hollow. Void. She still had not wanted to spend more than a moment necessary with him. He didn’t blame her. Not that it mattered.
She had never told anyone outside of her family this story.
If he mourned, he did not let us see it. He filled our house with as much joy as he could.”
supposed. “I can only hope.”
