His eyes are not cruel now. They contain everything we are both too afraid to say. Every hope, every desire we both understand we can never have. “Nothing good can come of this, lass.” His voice is no more than a rasp, and it shakes with the same uncertainty I feel. I know that, but he’s standing there, so close, and looking so very far away, and I don’t want to leave him in that place. “I don’t care,” I whisper, the words nothing more than a breath caught in my throat. He studies me, his face too shadowed by the growing twilight for me to read the emotion there. “You’re far braver than any
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