“I saw you,” Gar said quietly, “take a wound, to give one.” His lips moved, and Corban saw he was smiling, no, laughing. A wet cough, and blood sprinkled his lips. “I had a good teacher,” Corban said, smiling too. “Things to say,” Gar whispered, “need to say.” Corban felt a knot of fear and anguish draw tight in his belly. “Say them later, when we’re both…healed,” Corban rasped. Gar just looked at him, into his eyes. “I love you, Ban,” Gar said, the words coming out a wet whisper, but there was strength in his grip as he squeezed Corban’s hand. “You are the son I never had, and no son could
...more
I could cry
