Chapter 16 #2
And I tried, very hard, not to think about the warmth of her elbow in my hand, or the way her sleepy smile had settled under my ribs like something I couldn’t put down.
Ribbon didn’t follow us. He led us.
The moment Hanna stepped around him, he puffed himself up, hopped in front of us, and started down the path like a royal escort guiding two problematic children who couldn’t be trusted to walk unsupervised. Hanna laughed under her breath.
“He has a very high opinion of himself,” she joked, probably trying to lighten the mood. And I couldn’t stop myself from joining her.
“He learned it from the orcs,” I muttered.
“What was that?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at me and Gods, but she was beautiful.
“Nothing,” I blurted, clearing my throat, averting my gaze.
She snorted, nudging my arm with her elbow—barely a brush, but it sent heat straight through my chest. I tried to pretend it didn’t. Ribbon stopped ahead of us, glanced back with a wide golden eye, croaked impatiently, then kept hopping.
“Bossy,” Hanna whispered.
“He’s insufferable.”
“He’s adorable.”
I gave her a flat look, but she only smiled wider. And Gods… it was getting harder not to look at her. Harder to keep my gaze on literally anything else but her.
The entire floor was quiet, the huge windows at the end showing the early morning sky over Grebath.
It had only just begun to brighten, soft gold filtering through the buildings of the city from this side of the building.
If we went to our rooftop—the rooftop, I corrected myself quickly—then we could see much more of the city and the small forested area in the center.
Hanna walked close beside me, the faint glow of her magic brushing against mine like warm fingers at my wrist.
It was all too close. Too much. And yet… not enough. After a few minutes, she glanced up at me.
“You look tired,” she said gently. “Really tired.”
I stiffened. “I’m fine.”
“That’s the second lie you’ve told me this morning,” she whispered
My jaw tightened. “Hanna—”
“You worried about him, didn’t you?” she asked, but she wasn’t demanding an answer. Her tone was soft, and so very sweet.
I wanted to deny it. I even opened my mouth to, but the words didn’t come.
She slowed to a stop in front of the elevator. The ding when I pressed the button told me that it hadn’t left the floor after I’d come here. The bond between us tugged at me anytime she moved, like my body refused to let her drift too far.
Her expression softened. “You came back to check on us.”
“On him,” I corrected automatically.
She raised an eyebrow as we stepped inside the elevator, trapping me in with her scent and her presence.
“Mostly,” I amended.
She took a quiet step closer. Not brushing, not touching—but close enough that warmth rolled off her skin and sank straight into me.
“I appreciate it,” she murmured. “Really.”
I swallowed hard, staring at a point somewhere over her shoulder. “He’s my responsibility.”
“That’s not all it is,” she said it softly.
Not accusing or pushing. Just a simple truth placed between us like a candle flame that we were both aware could burn us. The air tightened around us and I stepped back instinctively, needing space before something inside me cracked open.
“Hanna,” I warned.
She didn’t move. “You don’t have to want to be around me. I’m not asking you to.”
My chest ached as the old fear surged, thick and sharp, the memory of my father’s hollow eyes carved into my ribs.
“I can’t—” My voice broke, and I hated it. “I can’t lose someone like that after I... I won’t do it.”
Her eyes softened even as she had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I was barely making sense to myself, much less to her. But there was no pity in her eyes. She shook her head gently.
“I’m not trying to drag you into anything,” she whispered. “I just… want you to know you’re not alone in this. Whatever this is.”
The bond pulsed low and warm—not demanding, not overpowering.
Just… present. A steady heartbeat at the edge of my own.
The thing about the bond that I did know, was that I’d never met an orc who’d fought it.
But that was what I was trying to do and I didn’t know what the consequences of that would be, but I’d face them when they came.
They couldn’t be as bad as the thought of losing myself. Of losing her.
“Hanna…” I whispered, and it came out raw.
She looked up at me. And in her eyes, for the first time, I saw everything she hadn’t wanted me to. There was a quiet acceptance, a gentle waiting and so much patience. She was careful with me in a way no one had ever been. I took a shaky breath.
“I didn’t sleep,” I admitted quietly. “Because I kept imagining something might happen to you. And I didn’t like the feeling.”
Her lips parted, surprise flickering there—but so did something softer. Something that felt dangerously like hope.
Before she could speak, Ribbon croaked loudly and we both startled. The toad was standing between the open doors of the elevator that was now on my floor, staring at us with a very clear expression.
Are you done being dramatic? We’re going home.
Hanna laughed, and the tension broke—but not in a bad way. More like a knot loosening, just enough to breathe. We kept walking, this time much closer than before, but still not touching.
And I’m relieved by that. Not disappointed. Not disappointed that I can’t caress her soft skin at all.
We were close enough that each step felt like a choice rather than an accident. Ribbon hopped ahead, smug as a creature could possibly be and in that moment, I began to suspect he knew exactly what he was doing.