Chapter 25 #2
“Can’t what?” Lory barely dared ask, but her voice dripped from her throat, too fast for her to stop herself, because that was still the effect the Flame-born captain had on her. Her body still reacted to him, and so did her heart. Damn her and her feelings.
“Can’t admit to something that isn’t true.” The agony in his expression as he said it nearly made her wrap her arms around him to shield him from a pain she couldn’t understand. A fear, perhaps, that kept him from allowing himself to feel so deeply.
“Because everyone you loved has been taken from you. Your parents, Elina—”
Khayrivven shook his head, his arms folding her to his chest, and a deep, soul-felt sound rumbled in his chest, making Lory shiver with the anticipation of a truth she wasn’t ready for.
For a moment, they stood, frozen in time, not a thought in her head, and the golden glow inside her chest shimmering a little brighter—hope. A glimmer of hope on a horizon of doom.
“I thought Lenya took you away for the night,” she admitted, her voice so small, even inside her mind, that she could barely believe it was her speaking.
Khayrivven shook his head. “He needed me to confirm a few things about the rebel attacks.”
“More attacks?” Lory prompted in her mind, not ready to withdraw from his arms. She would regret having allowed this closeness later, but for now, her soul seemed to sing with every breath of sage and leather and embers she took.
“Is it safe to talk here in this room? Is it safe for you to be here?”
“The Master of Whispers is still busy in the dungeons,” Khayrivven said with a sigh, the weight of the world seeming to rest on his shoulders. “Anees and Hadrian will be training a group of thornlings after dark and will not be back before midnight. No one saw me sneak into this room.”
Under different circumstances, Lory would have seized the opportunity to let Khayrivven ignite her world, but the rejection stung too deep, and the words he’d said and the way he acted didn’t add up, so she decided this embrace—his arms around her and her hands on his chest and cheek on his shoulder—was as far as she would go. Promised herself as much.
“I care about you, Lory.” It was a whisper, so soft it could have been a breath of sage-scented air, but the way his heart picked up pace beneath her palm, the way his shoulders tightened as if preparing for a blow, told her he had truly spoken. “I wasn’t prepared for it.”
That he’d admit that much—Lory bit her tongue, keeping so still she wondered if she would ever be able to move again.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. This time, his hand wandered down her back, grazing the side of her hip, where she was bruised and purple from the rocks in the bag.
“Let me put a healing salve on the injury.” In a tone so quiet, Lory couldn’t have been sure he’d spoken, he amended. “It’s one hurt I can help with.”
Letting go of her, he pulled a tin from his pocket and opened it. The scent of sage and sweet root filled the narrow space between them, and Lory had trouble keeping her thoughts together as he kneeled in front of her, tugging on the waistband of her pants to reveal the nasty bruises.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, dipping a finger into the salve before guiding it to the side of her hip and carefully spreading it on her mangled skin.
Lory didn’t feel the pain, only the tenderness of his touch, another apology, a cautious request for her forgiveness for words he couldn’t speak, for the lack of an emotion he might never be able to feel, but this, he could do.
Taking care of her injury, he could safely do.
He’d learned how to take care of others, to give everything he had and never get anything in return.
Perhaps, at the bottom of his self, Khayrivven Falcrest had stopped loving at all because, losing anything else, it might just break the man who’d sacrificed so much for good.
Lory didn’t think when she slid her fingers over his hair, savoring the silken texture. His eyes snapped up, full of that agony once more, that made her wish she’d never told him how she felt. Not that things would have been easy, but easier than they were now.
“Nothing has changed for me, Lory, and perhaps one day, you’ll understand.” The way he said it told her it was at least a partial lie.
Lory let her fingers slide down the side of his face, his cheek burrowing into her palm as he tilted his head, eyes closing with a deep inhale, and he lowered his hand from her hip, gently placing it against the side of her knee.
“I think it’s best if you go.” Lory’s heart broke even as she said the words, her chest seizing with a breath that wouldn’t go down, her lungs refusing to inflate unless it was with air carrying his scent. And as his eyes opened, Khayrivven gave her a curt nod, that pain mirrored in his eyes.
Lory bent down to kiss the top of his head, forcing her knees from buckling as he pulled back his hand. “I’m sorry, too.”
Thankfully, the next Veiled training session was with Anees, sparing Lory from spiraling yet again into the world that was Khayrivven’s presence.
A blanket of clouds peppered with ragged tears drew across the sky as Lory ran laps—the same grueling ones Khayrivven had made her do.
Next to her, a panting Thal was cursing under his breath.
“More running, less talking,” Anees shot at him as they passed her for the fifth time.
She played the part of the cruel instructor just as well as Khayrivven, but Lory preferred the kind of smile Anees donned when no one was looking to the Veiled Hand’s tormented one.
Keeping her distance was perhaps for the best—for her heart at least.