“Please,” he rasps. “I can … still help … I’m … sorry … misunderstanding.” There’s a pause, then I hear the Reaper’s low laughter. “A misunderstanding? No, no, my friend. It was one thing to try to hurt me. But then you went and tried to hurt her.” Famine glances over his shoulder, casting me a look. In the lavender glow of the morning, the horseman stares at me with a fervent sort of intensity. At that look, unbidden warmth spreads through me. The horseman has now defended me multiple times, and I can’t help but feel … cherished.
