I opened my mouth to say something—wasn’t even sure what—but what came out was only a garbled sob. Atrius nodded, as if he still understood exactly what I meant, and he cradled my face between both hands. I closed my eyes, and he kissed one, then the other, catching the beginnings of tears on his lips. His presence surrounded me, warm and stable and firm, such a perfect mirror of my own, scars and all. I choked out, “I’m not afraid of death.” But I am afraid of this. Atrius, of course, already knew. “Me too,” he murmured, the words warm against my lips, and I wasn’t sure who moved first, only
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