But her eyes fluttered once – twice – then closed.
Her head fell back in his arms.
He froze.
“Kara?”
Nothing.
His heart nearly stopped. “Kara, wake up–”
He shifted her gently, holding her close against him. He put shaking fingers to her throat.
A pulse. Weak, but steady. Just unconscious.
He let out a trembling breath, and leaned against the barn wall, Kara still in his arms. He kept his sword within reach and began his vigil. He didn’t move. Not when his muscles cramped. Not when his ribs screamed and his breathing became painful. Not when the cold seeped into his bones.
He didn’t sleep.
He just watched the rise and fall of her chest. Memorising the lines of her face, cataloguing every detail as if it were the last time he’d ever see it.
I love you.
Gods, he did.
But if he said it out loud – allowed the words to be heard – it would become real. How could he live with it if he told her and she turned away from him?
And she would.
When she learnt of the things he’d ordered during the wars, the things he’d done with his own hands. Back then he’d told himself it was duty. His father’s sword. But now?
Every Thorne he’d struck down, every sailor that had drowned when he took the Water Shard.
Those weren’t orders.
Those were his choices.
Hiscrimes.
He looked down at his hands. Still covered in Thorne blood. Steady now but hours ago they’d been instruments of death. Weapons. And she’d seen it all. Surely, a healer like her, a pacifist, would run from it.
But still–
She’d said it. That she loved him. But that version of him... it was a fantasy. Nothing more.
He needed to ask her. Needed to know if it’d been real. Needed to know if she meant what she’d said.
If she still did.
Even though he was certain she shouldn’t.
Kara woke with a gasp, dragging air through her lungs like she’d been drowning.
There were arms around her.
What – no – get off me!
In pure panic, she threw herself sideways, tearing away from the grip on her. A raw sound escaped her throat.
