He’d yearned for it, too.
Soft. Lilting. Delicate as a blooming bud, yet—at the right times—strong as a gale in a storm.
“Do what?” he asked, so lost his voice seemed to be someone else’s.
“You look at my lips,” she tilted her head. “Your gaze. It lingers. Sometimes too long…” She took a breath. “…and sometimes not long enough.”
Resh tilted for a moment, trapped between gifting her with truth and shrinking from it.
He squeezed her hand.
“Does my gaze trouble you?”
She shook her head. “No. It makes my heart race.”
The tips of his ears burned—like some boy hearing a compliment for the first time. As though he hadn’t been alive for centuries. As though he wasn’t Resh’Agar.
He cleared his throat.
“How are you feeling now?” he managed.
“Better,” she nodded, unbothered by his discomfort and oblivious to the chaos she was causing in his thoughts. “I hear the sorrow of the clouds. Still raining?”
“Yes. Still.”
“Good. The river won’t be lonely then.”
He let that comment pass without clinging to it. Keeping pace with the drift of her thoughts was like chasing river light—impossible, but he never tired of the thrill.
“Not with you here to speak to it,” he teased. “You’ve been asleep so long…” he trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with the degree to which his voice softened, betrayed the truth of things.
It’s not the Voids-damned river that missed her. Nor the horses, nor the men.
It’s me. I’m pining like a fool while she looks at me like just another one of the creatures helplessly lost within her orbit.
Auryn touched his forearm with her hand.
“I was sleeping, but I still missed the way your shadow dances when you speak in half-truths,” she smiled.
Resh stared at her. Lost for words. And thoughts.
And logic.
Justlost.
He shifted his weight on the bed.
“I have some clean clothes and water for a bath,” he said, his voice still too hoarse for his liking. “Tell me if you wish to—”
“I woke because the shadows watch,” she cut in, her tone hardening so fast that he reeled. “They move closer now. Hunting.”
He nodded, relieved to move on to topics that were safer than dancing shadows and talking rivers. “The Cycle of Dark is nearly upon us.”
Her face twisted into one of worry. Dread. An ache in his throat spurred him to continue speaking.
“Don’t be afraid. We’ve fought off worse.”
She blinked at him, one brow arching. “I amwith you. Why would I be afraid?”
