Page 203 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“—I’d wager we won’t get much time alone for the rest of the journey to Grayshell.”

Gods, he looked so sincere. So why did the words land like a slap? The thought of letting him out of my sight had my belly constricting. “I just found you,” I blurted, regretting it the instant the words escaped. My gaze dropped to the fluorescent soil beneath my toes—alien and somehow familiar all at once.

“I’ll be right around the bend, dove.”

“Don’t go.” My grip tightened. “Please.”

Concern flashed in those winter-blue eyes. Aren looked at the water, then over my filthy skin, finally landing on my mouth before clearing his throat. “Mags, I—I can’t.”

“Don’t leave me. Please. I…”

Aren softened everywhere, shoulders dropping as he rested his forehead against mine. When he spoke, the words brushed over my skin. “I’m right here.”

But you weren’t.

I watched your soul leave me Earthbound.

You dove headfirst into one battle after another, and I never knew whether you would come back. When you did, you barely acknowledged me. Every time I found you in a crowd and you didn’t look back, the distance ripped open the shoddy stitches in my soul.

And then you left me. Again. This time on a journey no soul had survived.

And somehow… even now… standing here, you still feel like a dream. A dream I’ll wake from screaming to get back to.

I couldn’t throw any of that cruel truth at his feet. Instead, I lifted my chin and brushed my nose along his, his breath quickening against my skin. I needed to feel him. Needed proof that he was close.

The only truth I could force past my lips was, “Losing you almost killed me, Aren.”

His broad palms settled around my waist and squeezed. Warmth seeped from every point of contact, every fingertip an anchor to the place he’d returned to. “I’m right here.”

“Physically, maybe.”

He took a stiff step back, pain flashing through those crystalline eyes.

“You’ve barely looked at me in weeks. Not until I showed up here and you had no choice.”

“We can’t do this, Mags. Not yet.”

“Do what?” I snapped, thumb stroking over his hand. “Talk? We’re about to attempt something⁠—”

“Accomplish something.”

“—that nobody has ever survived.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Aren.”

“Mags,” he echoed, probably aiming for jovial and landing somewhere closer to agony. His hands moved up and down my arms, chest rising faster as those eyes traced my face like he meant to memorize it. “Baby, I hear you. I do. But…” He shook his head, looking anywhere except at me.

“But what, Aren?”

“But you weren’t supposed to be here,” he rumbled, his voice turning harsh in a way I’d heard only once before—on his sidewalk, the night I dragged his heart through the mud. I staggered back, but his grip tightened and he crowded into my space, frantic energy crackling around us. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Mags. You were supposed to be safe. Hunkered down at base, behind an army—not depending on me to stand between you and the might of The Middle.”

Oh, gods. My heart sank, my shoulders with it.

“Every day across that cursed desert, one thing kept me moving—you, Mags. Knowing you were protected. Knowing I had to get back to you. We lost four people. When this is over, I have to look their Commanders in the eye and tell them I failed. But you…” He shook his head, one broad palm sliding up my arm to cradle my neck. “I failed you once already. I won’t do it again.”

Stunned, I whispered, “You didn’t fail me.”