“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against my palm, his voice breaking. “I should have been here sooner.” “It doesn’t matter,” I rasped, clinging to him as though he were the only solid thing in a world threatening to shatter. “You’re here now.” His skin felt different beneath my fingertips. The lines of his jaw were softer, less defined. His lashes fanned against his cheeks, and he looked younger than anything I could draw from my memory. He felt unfamiliar. The warmth of his magic, the silent hum that cracked beneath my skin when I touched him, was absent. I felt…nothing. A hollow emptiness
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