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The skin around Fletcher’s eyes tightened at her show of emotion, but she blinked rapidly so the tears dissipated.
With a sigh, the old guard gave in. “I’m just across the hall,” he said. “Call out if you need anything. And lock this door behind us.”
More muttering from Zadir—this time, with creative Mortisian curses Mia had never heard before.
Rena and Fletcher filed out, taking the remaining soup with them. Mia almost asked them to leave the food for Grayson, but then she saw him turn a little green and hold his breath as the large pot was carried past.
Not the soup, then. But she had bread and water, and she would make him eat a little of that.
Before Fletcher left, he met Grayson’s stare. “Don’t keep her up long. Let her sleep.”
Grayson nodded, and then the Fletchers were gone and he was closing the door, leaving them alone in the cabin.
Mia patted the bed beside her. “Come sit down.”
He did, moving slowly—tentatively.
Once he was settled, she rested a hand on his knee. “Why didn’t you tell me you get seasick?”
He swallowed, and she noticed the sweat beading along his hairline. “It never really mattered.”
She pursed her lips. “If you knew you’d be so sick, why did you insist we travel by ship?”
“It was the fastest way to get you home.”
Once again, he had put her first. As he always did.
He eyed her. “I never thought about what it would be like for you to sail again. Are you all right?”
Strangely, knowing that he hated sailing made her fear diminish. Perhaps it was her turn to be strong for him. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Truly.”
He studied her intently. “Good. If that ever changes, I’m here.”
Fates, he melted her heart. “I’m here for you, too.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Thank you.”
She brushed a long lock of his dark hair behind his ear. She had always enjoyed touching him. Contact with him, even when they were children, had calmed her—fed a part of her soul that had been starved during that first year of captivity.
Though Grayson didn’t always reach for her, she liked to think her gentle touches fed a part of his soul, too.
“Are you still nervous to return home?” he asked softly.
“Yes. But I’m so grateful to be gone from Ryden. Just knowing I won’t be used against you anymore—that I won’t be your weakness . . .” Her words trailed off, because he’d stilled.
His gray eyes traced her face, and then one hand cupped her cheek. “Mia, you haveneverbeen my weakness. You’re the fates-blasted opposite of that.” The ball of his thumb skated over her skin, leaving a warm trail she felt all the way to her toes. “My father may have thought you were my weakness, but he was wrong. You are my strength. You always have been.”
Her stomach clenched. She stared at his face—one side burned, and the other nicked with old scars. “You’ve been hurt so many times because of me. Your father has used me to force you to do horrible things.”
“My sins are my own. Not yours.Neveryours.” He leaned in carefully and planted a soft kiss against her brow. “I have never blamed you, and I never will. Promise me that you won’t, either.”
She didn’t know if letting go of her guilt was possible, but she would try. For him, and for herself.
The ship rocked, and Grayson’s hold tightened.
She held him in return, her heartbeat surprisingly steady. “Is there anything you need?” she asked. “Anything that will make you feel better?”
Grayson gingerly shook his head. “It will get better in time.”
