Page 263 of The Sun He Buried

Both glacial-blue eyes lift.

“Going off alone didn’t save anyone.”

The guilt stays. Then changes shape around anger.

“You felt me fall,” she says.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t come.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Because she’s gone down a hundred times since I’ve known her, and not one of those falls ever meant she needed me.

Because after last night, I wanted—badly—to feel her fall and not move for it. To prove I still could.

Her hand rises from Snowpetal and touches the brand beside my mouth.

The split skin burns beneath her thumb.

“That last one was stupid,” she says.

“Pain’s affected your manners.”

“I had excellent manners before I met you.”

“Then I’ve improved you.”

A laugh escapes her. It breaks in the middle, but it’s real.

I put one hand over hers and keep it against my face.

The bond remains open.

She feels the pain from the runes. I receive the tremor in her fingers and the certainty beneath it.

She chose me.

Me.

“I’d choose you again,” she says.

“Naturally.” My smirk pulls the brands crooked, stretching the open scars.

“That was your chance to be kind.”

“You know better.”

“I can feel you being kind.”

“Keep that accusation private.”

Her thumb moves once across the black line.

I press my forehead to hers.