A slow smile curved her lips. “Staring are we, Thorne?”
He didn’t even try to deny it.
“Oh, definitely,” he said, stepping forward to wrap a possessive arm around her waist. “You’re beautiful.”
He kissed her shoulder once before stepping back – reluctantly – and reaching for the food. He tossed her a wedge of bread and cured meat, then passed her a canteen of water she assumed he’d filled from the stream nearby. She caught it all one-handed as she pulled her new dress into place and sat down. It fit perfectly. Light cotton that hugged her just right, soft against her skin. The navy cloak lay beside her, warm and comforting.
The man paid attention.
“You need to eat,” he said gruffly. “Get your strength back up.”
“Yes, mother,” she muttered around a bite of bread.
He sat next to her with his own food, his hand brushing her arm lightly. She watched him practically inhale the bread, on his third piece before she’d even had one. He looked up and eyed the dress.
“I have good taste.”
She blushed and kissed him quickly on his cheek. “Yes, you do. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, shrugging.
“How long did it take you to pick it?”
He looked sheepish. “About thirty minutes.”
Her jaw dropped. “You stood in front of someone’s washing line for thirty minutes?”
“I had to make sure no one saw me,” he said quickly.
Kara tried – really tried – not to laugh, but failed spectacularly.
“There were a lot of options!” he said defensively.
She laughed again. “I could get used to this.”
“What?”
“You.” She smiled. “Taking care of me.”
A real smile spread across his face – not a smirk, not a mask. Genuine. Open. And it made him look so damn beautiful, it actually hurt.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Until Sebastian looked over at her. “We could run.”
Her breath caught. “Run?”
He shifted, just enough so she had to meet his eyes. There was no teasing there – only raw, determined seriousness. “The Southern Isles. It’s peaceful there now. Or further, if we have to. I won’t lose you, Kara. We leave the Shards, walk away, let Vallenna choke on its own fate.”
She sat up slightly, heart pounding. “Sebastian–”
“I mean it.” His jaw clenched, fury flashing. “They nearly burned you alive. They cheered for it. Vallenna doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t deserve saving. Why should we bleed for them?”
The conviction in him both terrified and tempted her. She could see it so clearly – the two of them disappearing across the sea. A cottage on a cliff. A garden. Freedom. His hand intertwined with hers, the sun on their skin. No more running. No more pyres.
We could be happy.
But then came the faces.
Her mother. Alys. Sienna.
