“Hey,” Famine says, his voice going gentle, so gentle. “Hey.” He comes forward and kneels in front of me. The horseman takes my glass from me, setting it aside, along with his own. He spreads my legs apart, just so that he can move in closer, his armor rigid against my inner thighs. Then Famine takes my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks and brushing away my tears. “Don’t cry.” I lift my gaze to his, feeling miserable. His eyes lock on a tear. He gives a fierce frown, his eyes agonized. “You saved me,” he says.
