Page 105 of Memory of Ashes

Debris covered his skin. She removed as much as she could, but some fragments remained embedded too deeply.

It reminded her of the time she’d shared his tent after the battle between them and Elthar’s forces, when they’d had to rescue Tharos from the enemy’s camp. He’d been injured then, and she’d wanted to touch him, to help him.

He flinched as she removed a large shard from his shoulder. His jaw tightened.

“Where else hurts?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Tell me,” she ordered.

He was silent for a moment and then gestured to a part of his back.

“I’m not used to admitting pain.”

“I can tell.”

“Visible weakness was something Tiryn used to mock or punish.”

She winced at the thought of Casyl being hurt as a child and having to conceal his pain.

“Will you stay here?” he asked.

She frowned, not wanting to think of their parting.

“I won’t ask you to abandon your world for me.”

She could not ask him the same. He could not remain here after what his people had done.

“If I do stay?” she asked.

“Then I’d have to let you go.”

“Just like that?”

“No.” His gaze held hers. “But I won’t make a prisoner of you again.”

He fell asleep, and she lay down next to him, careful not to touch his wounds. She must have dozed off, because when she woke up, his eyes opened to meet hers.

She looked down at his body and saw that his wounds had begun to heal, but she could see that they were healing over the shrapnel. His flesh was knitting around the fragments, trapping them beneath his skin. The fragments seemed to pulse with a blue tinge as she touched them.

He flinched.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked.

“Not as badly,” he said, a trace of mischief returning to his expression. He rolled towards her and cupped her waist, sliding his hand beneath her shirt as his mouth met hers.

They were in the middle of the camp, surrounded by men outside the tent. She could hear them talking and walking around, making ready, but she shut all of that out.

It could be their last moment together. She cared only for the warmth of his skin. His mouth remained on hers as he eased her trousers down.

He paused, bracing his weight above her.

“Tell me to stop.”

Amelia took his hand and placed it against her waist. She once feared his touch, but now she leaned into it. “Don’t stop.”

She kicked the trousers away as his hand slid back up to her chest, cupping her breast, teasing her as he pressed his body closer against her.