Chapter 329 I’m Afraid I’ll Hurt You

"Kaelen."

"And then you walked into the throne room." He opened his eyes. They were very blue, and wet. "And he went quiet. For the first time in weeks. Like a child who’s been crying and finally falls asleep. You’ll never know what that was like. To feel him stop."

Her throat closed.

"But last night," said Kaelen, "when they called you. I felt it. All three of us did. And he went wild. I’ve never felt him like that. I felt him tear at me. I nearly shifted on the stairs. I don’t remember running." He wiped his face with the back of his wrist, roughly. "And I thought, this is what it’ll be like. When they’re gone. When there’s nothing left to hold him."

"You don’t know that."

"Auryn said....."

"Auryn said perhaps." She turned. "He said one of two things would happen. He didn’t say either was certain."

"It was certain enough."

"Maybe."

"You heard him."

"I heard him." She stepped closer. "But I also heard what he didn’t say. He said they would prefer I choose. He said it’s the only choice they had. That’s not a prophecy, Kaelen. That’s a plea."

He stared at her.

"They’re frightened," she said. "The same as you. They’ve been dying for two hundred years and they’ve got one slim chance, and they called me out of my bed to ask for it. I don’t think they know what they’re doing. I think they’re guessing." Her voice caught. "I think we all are."

He didn’t answer.

The sun cleared the horizon.

It came all at once, a bright slice of gold that spilled across the wall and the courtyards and the long brown land. The frost on the parapet flared, every fern a thread of fire. It lit his face, and she saw the tears he hadn’t wiped away, bright as glass on his cheekbones.

"I’m afraid I’ll hurt you," he said.

It was barely a whisper.

"I’m afraid that one day I’ll lose it, and you’ll be standing there, and I won’t know who you are." He swallowed. "And I’ll do something I can’t take back."

"You won’t."

"You can’t know that."

"I know you."

"You’ve known me a little over a month."

"I’ve known you long enough." She took his face in her hands. His skin was ice. "I’ve seen you hold back with me when you wanted to tear the world apart. I’ve seen you ask permission to kiss me, with your whole body shaking. I’ve seen you sit on a window seat all night, because you were afraid that if you spoke you’d break something." Her thumbs wiped his cheeks. "That isn’t a man who hurts people he loves."

His eyes went wide.

She heard what she had said a moment too late.

"I didn’t...." she began.

"Say it again."

"Kaelen, I...."

"The word. Say it again."

She took a breath.

She had not meant to. It had slipped out the way a stone slips from a hand. But she found, standing there in the cold gold light with his face between her palms, that she didn’t want to take it back.

"I don’t know what I feel," she said slowly. "I don’t. It’s too big. I’ve known you all for a month, and in that time I’ve been framed, and freed, and bonded, and dragged out of my bed in the dark." She laughed, a little shakily. "I can’t say it yet. But I know what it isn’t. It isn’t nothing."

His breath went out of him.

"It’s not nothing," she said again. "And I’m not going to choose either of those doors."

"What?"

"The two doors. The ones the dragons offered." She dropped her hands to his chest. "I’m not going to free him and watch three people burn. And I’m not going to leave him there and let all of you break. I don’t know what I’ll do instead. I haven’t got a plan. But I’m not going to pick one."

"That’s not a choice."

"No."

"They said it’s the only...."

"They said it’s the only one they have." Her chin lifted. "That isn’t the same."

He stared at her.

"And I’m not going to do it without you," said Morgana.

His whole face changed.

It happened slowly. The tight, haunted lines around his mouth eased. His eyes cleared. Something in them that she had thought was fear turned, little by little, into something else, bright and fierce and startled, like a man who has been told that the door he thought was locked was only stuck.

"That’s not a plan," he said hoarsely.

"I know."

"It’s barely a sentence."

"I know."

"It’s the stupidest...." His voice broke. He laughed, wetly, and pressed his forehead against hers. "Gods. You’re the stupidest, bravest woman I’ve ever met."

"I’ve been told."

"By whom?"

"A baker’s daughter. Rowan. She says it about once a day."

He laughed again, louder, and she felt his shoulders shake. His arms came around her, hard, and she was lifted a little off her feet, crushed against his bare chest with the coat bunched between them. He smelled of snow and cold iron and the faint salt of tears.

"I’m going to ruin this coat," he mumbled into her hair.

"It isn’t yours."

"It isn’t Thorne’s, either, now."

"It’s not going to survive either of you."

He kissed her.

It wasn’t like the others. It was slow, and gentle, and almost shy. His mouth was cold. It tasted of salt. It moved against hers with a kind of wondering care, as though he were learning her for the first time, and when she put her hands up into his hair, he made a small sound, deep in his throat, and held her closer.

The frost on the parapet shivered.

It cracked, and melted, in a quiet bright line, from where his hands had been to the far end of the wall. Beyond them, the sun climbed. In the courtyard below, a bell began to ring.

When they broke apart, his eyes were shining.

"I’ll go with you," he said. "To Ashford. To the mountain. To wherever you decide."

"Draeven said...."

"I don’t care what Draeven said."

"He hasn’t said anything yet."

"He’s going to say that I stay. Because I’m the unstable one." His mouth twisted. "And I’m going to say no."

"And what will he say?"

"Probably something very calm and reasonable. And then I’ll punch a wall."