Page 198 of Feralheart

Her breathing had changed. I suspected she was fighting to keep it even.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asked. “You, sleeping on dirt six feet from my tent. What does it change?”

“Nothing about you. Everything about me.” I looked at the fire, not at her. “I didn’t cross that line to claim you. I did it so you’d never have to be the one who crosses. Whatever I am tomorrow, I’m it on this side of the grass. And if a blade comes for this camp tonight, it finds me first.”

“You can’t stay here.” When her voice croaked, she cleared her throat. “They’ll⁠—”

“I know what they’ll do.”

“Yet you came anyway.”

“I used to think survival was the only thing that mattered. Then you ran to me barefoot in the mud while I was bleeding. Now I know survival is nothing without you.”

She deflated, sitting down across from me, her legs giving out before she fell. Her arms wrapped around her knees, mirroring me.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she whispered.

“I will when they’re true.”

We stared at each other across the flames.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.

“The worst.”

“Your mother will be furious.”

“I don’t care.”

“The council will press her to choose a new heir.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fen.” My name came out broken. “Everyone will⁠—”

“I. Don’t. Care.” I leaned forward, the fire heating my face. “I’ve spent my entire life worrying about what everyone thinks. Begging for approval I’ll never get. And I’m not doing it any longer.”

Her arms loosened on her knees, her fingers spreading wide before curling tight again. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Say it.”

“Because when I’m with you, I’m not—” I shook my head. “I’m not the crown prince. My mother’s heir. The council’s symbol.” My voice roughened. “I’m none of it. And I don’t know what’s left when you strip all that away, but for the first time in my life, I want to find out.”

I stopped talking before I said the rest. The rest was too much. It was you’re the only real thing I’ve touched in my entire life, and I couldn’t say it without scaring her away.

The fire burned lower between us, shadows growing longer.

Neither of us moved.

We didn’t need to.

And she stayed.

I’d burn everything else down before I gave this up.

Sitting with her in the dark, with the warmth of the fire on my face and the cold of everything I’d walked away from at my back, I let this be enough.