And it strikes me. No, ‘strikes’ is the wrong word. It clicks. We don’t belong here. Neither Cadoc nor I. None of us. I remember Abertha’s words, and I understand. I am nothing special. I’m not strong and brave and brilliant like Cadoc. But I am what I am—I’m special to him. And I know what’s important. I am the things my mate is not. I know the things he doesn’t know. He needs me. And I’m not Rose Kemble, am I? I’m Rosie Collins. I calmly take the steps, one by one, and he patiently waits for me, arm outstretched, his hard expression revealing nothing while the bond braids itself tighter and
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