Molun left.
That had probably been the quietest and somehow most awkward encounter they’d ever had, but they’d made it, and no one had insulted anyone or dumped water or thrown any fireballs.
Cormal would take anything resembling a win at this point.
It took several more days before Kinan asked him to stay behind after their reading, and then Cormal realized that the Princess had stayed behind, too.
She didn’t actually say anything to him, just crossed her arms and glared. But she hadn’t walked out yet. Kinan patted his shoulder (Cormal wished he was able to feel it), and then left.
Cormal had spent too many sleepless hours trying to figure out how to say this. He met her angry gaze.
“I’m sorry I hurt Perian. I was jealous of his relationship with Brannal, and then when I discovered that he was a carnalion, I truly thought that Brannal was in danger—that we all were—and I didn’t listen to anyone who told me otherwise. I hurt him, Brannal, you, and all your friends. I was wrong. I let old fears blind me. I wanted him gone, and I got rid of him. That was one of the worst decisions I ever made, and I’m sorry it hurt all of you.”
She continued to stare at him for a long moment and then moved. He’d expected her to leave without a word—and so she took him by surprise when she kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.
He was laughing even as he keeled over from the pain.
Belatedly, he realized that someone was on the floor with him, and when he looked up through pain-bleary eyes, he saw it was Kinan. His face was twisted with concern.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think she’d do that!”
Cormal shook his head and managed to get out through teeth gritted with pain, “No, I think that was a perfectly fair reaction, especially given that I tried to blame Perian the last time she did it. It was definitely earned. I’m just going to lie here for a minute.”
Kinan’s hands fluttered around him. “Oh, I wish I could do something!”
Cormal wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man sound so frustrated. It managed to get him to concentrate on something other than the pain.
“Hey!” he said sharply. Kinan looked at him. “You are doing something. You’re right here with me.”
Some of the tension left Kinan’s face, and he smiled faintly. “Yes, I am.”
“And silver lining,” he managed to gasp out. “You don’t have to worry about anyone kneeing you in the groin, do you?”
Kinan managed a small smile, but said, “It doesn’t sound so bad, really.”
Cormal managed with difficulty to push himself to a seated position, leaning back against the table that he’d been sitting at before his debacle of an apology.
“That’s clearly because you don’t possess an adequate imagination,” Cormal told him.
Kinan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, am I to blame because I didn’t do anything in the first sixteen years of my life to earn being kneed in the groin?”
Cormal laughed softly. “Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.”
“Or are you wishing that you’d kneed me in the groin when I tried to kiss you, so that I’d have a basis of comparison?”
Cormal grimaced. “No, you definitely didn’t earn a knee to the groin for that. That would have been cruel.”
Kinan let out a sigh. “At least it would have beensomethingto do with my groin.”
Snorting a laugh, Cormal said, “No, definitely not. Absolutely donotbelieve that. A knee to the groin and nothing to the groin are complete opposites.”
Kinan met his eyes with far too much seriousness in them. “No touching forever is a really long time.”
Cormal reached out, not caring that he couldn’t actually hold onto him. Kinan would know what he was trying to do.
“We haven’t reached forever. We’re nowhere near forever.”
The look on Kinan’s face was heartbreaking. He gestured around the room at all the books they’d gone through.
