Page 177 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

“You’re right.” He hated that she was. “I’ve never let myself want anything good. I’m terrible at it.” He needed her to fight harder—to believe there could still be more to her life than sacrifice and duty. But he couldn’t be the reason she changed her mind. This was her choice. It had to be.

“I shouldn’t have said it that way,” she whispered. “You were surviving. Of course you didn’t choose more.”

“Doesn’t matter—you were being truthful.” He sighed. She wouldn’t look at him, but he needed her to. “I can’t watch you make the same mistake. You deserve more than that.”

He sat beside her, laid a hand on her arm, thumb brushing the soft embroidered leaves at her shoulder. The truth was simple. He didn’t want a world without her in it.

But he couldn’t say that. Not in those words. Not sitting this close to her, feeling her warmth bleed through his armor. Not when it took everything in him to stop himself from kissing her until they were both breathless.

Gods…don’t look at her mouth. Look anywhere else.

He folded his hands in front of him and looked out at the darkened tree line.

“I’m not willing to let this be the end of you.” His voice came out rough. “Not when we still have a chance.”

She looked up then, expression full of a hope so pure it caught him off guard. “We have a chance?”

The words echoed back to him, and he panicked. “To save you!” he said quickly. “A chance for us to find another way out of this…that’s uh, that’s all I meant.”

“Oh.” She flushed and folded her hands in her lap. “Right. Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t really want it to be the end of me either.” She blinked too quickly, fingers gripping the hem of her tunic. “I won’t give up without a fight. That’s the most I can promise you.”

“I guess that’s more than I had before.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “You need to survive.” Then he added, mouth twisting into a grin, “I’m going to need a guide in Thistlehold, and a delivery girl’s probably my best option.”

“Excuse me?” She stared at him open-mouthed, before it twitched into a smile. “I’m a delivery woman,” she huffed. “But I guess I can show you around.”

They laughed, and for a moment, it wasn’t so hopeless.

Then, tentatively, she reached out and rested her hand on his knee. A friendly gesture—light and unassuming. It sent a spike of awareness through him. He went still, like a skittish animal—breath catching so completely he forgot how to take the next one. She didn’t move closer. She wasn’t asking for anything. She was simply there.

She pulled her hand back and hugged her knees. Orzen dragged in a breath, forcing his body to remember how that worked, as if he couldn’t feel the echo of warmth that had been there a heartbeat ago.

“We’ve got a couple of hours,” she said suddenly. “We should probably rest.”

But she didn’t move. Neither did he.

She looked up toward the stars, her face barely visible in the dim moonlight. The night pressed around them—quiet and waiting—and the world narrowed to the thin space between them.

He wanted her to know he was there, that he cared about her more than he could say. But he couldn’t push too quickly. Some small gesture, an ounce of bravery to inspire her own.

If he let himself think about what he really wanted, even for a heartbeat, he’d lose his nerve. So he didn’t. He leaned in and pressed a brief, careful kiss to her cheek.

Her skin was soft and warm, carrying the subtle scent of flowers that always seemed to linger around her. She let out a startled sound that he felt against his lips.

If she turned her head even a fraction, he’d feel her lips against his own. Fear stopped him short. It was already too close to a line he wouldn’t let himself cross. Dragging himself away from her was a struggle, but he made himself do it. He was sure she could hear his heart pounding between them.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly in a way that made him want to stay. He jumped to his feet. If he lingered another second, he’d forget why he’d drawn the line in the first place.

“Goodnight,” he said as he stepped back, voice rough and low. “I mean, no. I’ll see you in a few hours. I’m gonna go help with patrols. So. I’ll just…”

He barely caught the flush on her cheeks before he turned and rushed away, mind buzzing. It took everything in him not to turn around, not to look back.

Walking was essential. He’d circle the lake once. Long enough that she could sleep. Long enough that he might forget there was only one thin wall separating them. Thank the gods for that wall. The boundary he’d set was all but obliterated. Without that wall there, he didn’t trust himself not to take more than he already had.

Stupid. He was a child reaching for a hot pan, knowing it would burn him. He should’ve been satisfied with being near her, but the way she talked about giving in—like the sacrifice was inevitable—made him desperate.

He’d never been good with words. A part of him had hoped the kiss would say what he couldn’t—that her life mattered more to him than his own. The other part of him panicked.

What if he’d made it worse—made her feel like she had to stay? He didn’t want her to fight this for him. He wanted her to choose herself for once. He almost laughed. Maybe he was insane. Maybe none of this meant anything to her at all.