Page 116 of Fires of the Forsaken
Cheriour’s voice was so quiet, so soft, I almost didn’t hear him.
I jerked my hand down to find him staring off into the distance, his eyes restless again.
“Some perished in battle. But most...” His left hand rested against his knee, and his fingers flexed as he spoke. “Most fled. They found they couldn’t,wouldn’t, face the horrors of this war. So they left. I don’t know where they are now. But I am certain I’ll never see them again.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Other than, “I’m sorry.”But that never made anything better, did it?It sucks you lost everyone. I can’t do a damn thing to bring them back. But, y’know, sorry.
Iwassorry, though. Genuinely. Because I knew what that hurt felt like.
Silence filled the room after my half-assed apology, broken only by the occasional grunt or cry from one of the wounded. Or my sniffling.
“You should sleep, Addie,” Cheriour murmured.
He looked so damn small, sitting in the middle of that yawning room, with his wild hair twisted into a man-bun and his eyes shadowed and forlorn.
“How old were you?” I asked. “When your family left?”
His fingers flexed again. “Old enough.”
“What does that mean? Old enough forwhat?”
“To have seen it coming.” His jaw ticked. “I vowed to give my life fighting this war. I thought they’d do the same. But the signs were always there. Their hesitance. The way they spoke of preserving what they had for as long as they could. They stayed when we still had a chance of surviving. And they fled when that hope died.”
“Do you ever wish you’d gone with them?”
“No.” And there waszerohesitation in his voice.“I have no grandeur notions of victory. But fleeing isn’t the answer. It won’t save us. And I won’t abandon them.” He jerked his head toward the wounded soldiers.
I stared at the hordes of semi-conscious people. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds.And with one magical healer and a slew of shitty medical practices, a lot of them would die.
Wasn’t that the theme here? These people fought tooth and nail every day, and they lost. Because they were stuck in a war they had no chance of winning.
Whowouldn’tgrab their possessions and make for the hills if it offered a chance of something better?
If Cheriour had gone with his family, he might’ve spent his days in relative peace, rather than yo-yo-ing from one grueling battle to the next.
Maybe a peaceful Cheriour would have smiled more easily. And laughed.
My heart did the funny spasm thing again. And my fingers itched, suddenly restless. I reached out, pressing my hand against his.
He jolted but then stilled, allowing our joined hands to rest against his knee.
I curled my fingers around his knuckles—whew, he had someroughhands. Dozens of little, jagged scars speckled his skin. “You’re braver than me.” I rubbed my thumb over a big scar on the outside of his wrist. “For staying. If I had the chance, I’d be flying away like a bat out of hell. I’m too much of a coward to stay.”
Cheriour’s fingers tensed and relaxed. Tensed and relaxed. “You have many faults, Addie. But cowardice is not one of them.”
I laughed. “Have you met me? I’m thedefinitionof a spineless chicken.”
“I have. Met you.” With his face only inches from mine, I saw flecks of silver in his green eyes. Saw the way his throat muscles convulsed as he gulped. “And I don’t think you would run so easily,” he said.
My stomach tightened when he turned his hand over, touching the tips of his fingers to mine.
I got a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him. To see if I could coax his perpetually rigid lips to soften beneath mine. I wondered what he would feel like; what he wouldtastelike. Probably earthy and sweaty. Which were…not normally attractive things.
But a pleasantziiingshot through my muscles.
I tilted my head toward him. Just to see what he’d do.
He slowly turned his toneless eyes toward me. And they lingered,unblinkingly, on my face. With anyone else, this thousand-yard stare might’ve been creepy. But with him…
