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She sighed and tugged back.
Tyrell’s arms tensed, resisting her pull. Then he let them fall, and she drew back. Not completely, just enough that she could face him. Her hair had fallen forward, so she raised a hand to push back a curl from her cheek. “Tyrell, there’s—”
He grabbed her wrist with a sharp curse. “What happened to your hand?”
She followed his gaze to her hand, which was covered in the scorpion stings. The puncture sites were still red, though the swelling had gone down.
She exhaled slowly. “Your mother ordered me to have tea with her yesterday. There was a scorpion. I’m fine.”
The look he cut her was so much like Grayson’s last night, under other circumstances she might have laughed. Instead, she ducked her head until she managed to catch his gaze. “It was horrible, but I’m all right. You and Grayson don’t need to avenge me.”
His expression tensed. “Are you in any pain?”
“No. It’s just sore now.”
His grip eased immediately, but he didn’t release her. The pad of his thumb brushed the soft skin of her inner wrist and she fought a shiver.
“I hate everything about this,” he whispered.
She didn’t think he was just talking about her injured hand. Unsure of what to say, she remained silent.
They stood so close. He smelled of crisp outdoor air, sweat, and the spice of his soap. And when he peeked up at her through long, dark lashes, she couldn’t look away. “I know who you are,” he said.
She stiffened—an ingrained reaction, nothing to do with him. His tone was soft, and he touched her carefully.
Mia forced herself to relax. “Grayson told me what Henri said.”
Tyrell searched her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because there was nothing to tell. I’m not her anymore.”Meerah is dead.
You’re broken, Meerah.
Tyrell’s throat flexed as he swallowed. “Did you tell Grayson? Did he know?”
“No.” It was only half a lie; she had never been brave enough to tell Grayson the truth; he’d had to learn it on his own, in Mortise.
Tyrell stared at her. Maybe believing her, maybe not. His full lips pressed together. “I don’t care who you are. You don’t have to be Meerah. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.”
She wanted that to be true, but she didn’t think it was. Soon, she would be going home. She would have to face her past. The demons there. The expectations of her brother, and her people.
Unless she was rejected. Desfan may not want her in the palace once he learned the truth about Tahlyah’s death. Or if he decided to blame her for their father’s death.
Her emotions were becoming too much. She shoved all of that away as she met Tyrell’s gaze. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “We only ever have to be who we are.”
The words hung between them, feeling surprisingly profound.
She studied Tyrell, just as intently as he watched her. Instinct had her place a hand against his chest, and she could feel the pounding of his heart. “I care about you, Tyrell,” she whispered. “I need you to know that.”
The angles on his face sharpened. “That’s sounding like another goodbye.”
She didn’t deny it. She lifted onto her toes and placed a soft kiss against his cheek. When she drew back, she said, “You’re a good person.”
His eyes clouded. “That only proves how blind you are.” There was no heat in the words; just a statement of fact.
Mia gave him a small, almost sad smile. “Youaregood. You just lost sight of that for a while.”
His eyes burned with intensity. “He doesn’t deserve you, Mia. Neither of us do.”
