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It was not a sacrifice. It was an exchange: Close your eyes, child, and you will see an entire world.
I jumped a little, startled, as he touched my cheek, the rough pad brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You’re lucky,” he said, “that I have a soft spot for caged birds.”
“Beautiful. Mysterious. Dangerous. And an obvious, clear-as-the-fucking-moon mistake.”
He set down his pen and stood, crossing the room to stand before me. Once again, I felt like I was being examined—like any minute he might start critiquing my posture.
hated them all so much, and I loved that I felt that way. The Arachessen taught me that my emotions should always be a calm sea. But sometimes, those storms snuck up on me. And once the waves swallowed me, it was hard to find the surface.
“When Atrius told you to keep track of my comings and goings, I don’t think he was telling you to keep track of that kind of coming.” Erekkus snorted, then leaned forward. “So there was coming.”
Why did I find an uneasy comfort in the warmth of his soul next to mine? I had no nightmares of my own in his room. I didn’t know what to make of that.
“Hm,” he said. “To think I let such a dangerous creature sleep beside me every night.”
I understood it so painfully well. The desire to believe that something larger than you could save you, even after it struck you down again and again.
“You shouldn’t be here.” This time he spoke against my mouth—not quite a kiss, but the promise of one. I whispered, “Why?” “Because you make me ravenous.”
“Death is what happens when you stand still,” I said. “Don’t stand still. Not for anything.”