Page 111 of Embers of Ruin

“That is a lovely belief.”

“It is a correct belief.”

“I think it’s a dangerous one. Everything is not meant for everyone. Some truths belong to those who are doomed to carry the burden.”

I sigh so dramatically that his eyebrows shoot up. “Everything is dangerous with you. Just speak true, Thorin.”

His gaze holds mine. “Yes, everything is dangerous with me, muya quenati.”

At least he does not deny that.

The air between us feels too thin suddenly. I am aware of the table against my hip, the open book beside me, the torn prophecy, the quiet shelves rising around us like witnesses. I am aware of Thorin’s height, his nearness, the way he looks at me not with anger exactly, but with a restraint that seems harder for him than rage.

“Why me?” I ask. The question slips out before I can armor it properly.

It sounds too honest.

Thorin stills.

For one moment, the entire room seems to still with him.

“Because when I found you—” He stops.

The words cut off so abruptly that my breath catches.

When I found you. Not when Onyx found you. Not when you were brought here.

When I found you.

The room tilts slightly.

“What does that mean?”

His expression closes. “No.”

I step closer. “No, you don’t get to start that sentence and then lock it away.”

“I said too much.”

“You said half of a thing. That is not too much. That is exactly enough to make me furious.”

“Then be furious with me, Lyra.”

“I am! I am so fucking furious!”

“I know. I also know that your language is awful, sweetheart.”

His calm nearly undoes me. So does the word sweetheart. Gods, Lyra. Focus.

Beneath his calm, I can see the cost of stopping himself. The tension in his jaw. The way his hand curls once at his side before relaxing. The shadows shifting restlessly around us.

He wants to tell me and that realization lands strangely. It’s like a key turning once inside a lock and refusing to open the door.

“You knew about me before I came here,” I say.

“Well of course.”

“How long?” I stare at him with balled fists.