Maybe so, but she was the one who’d bear it. Her tears blinded her and she looked away.
Because she did, she didn’t see him move to her. His hands caught her shoulders.
“Irian told me if I’d spoken true that last night, you’d stay. Had I done so, you wouldn’t have left, so perhaps it’s my fault all of this happened.”
She flinched, “I don’t want to talk about that, Aryn. You did enough. I’m out of that hell. I won’t die there. It’s enough.”
“It’s not.” He pressed his lips to her temple, his breath stirring her hair. “Will you not look at me?”
She didn’t respond.
“Then perhaps you’ll listen.” He caught one of her hands and guided it to his chest. “Perhaps you’ll feel. Listen, feel…this heart, Tyriel? It beats for you, only you. It’s been that way for years, for so long, I can’t even remember when it started. I only know that its yours, as I am.”
Wrenching away from him, she moved to the log close to the fire, then opted to keep walking until she had the fire between them.
“Why?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. After months of disuse, it was a chore to simply talk, but she forced the words out. “Why are you telling me this? You made it quite clear a year ago that while you might enjoy fucking me, you didn’t want to get tangled up with an elf. So what’s this you say now? Am I so pitiful and weak that you feel a need to throw me this bone? Well, fuck you, Aryn. You can shove your pity and soulful claims about your heart right up your arse.”
“Tyriel—”
Adrenaline burst through her, giving her strength. She grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it at him.
He dodged it, but held himself warily.
“No!” She glared at him through the tears she tried to hard not to shed. “You didn’t want me when I was strong and healthy and powerful. Now that I’m broken and weak and dying…well, I don’t want you!”
Aryn’s face drained of blood. “You…”
Guilt wrapped a fist around her heart and squeezed.
He likely hadn’t known.
Cruel, maybe, telling him like that. He did care for her; she knew that. He’d only been trying to offer kindness, even if the pity was like acid on the brutalized remains of her heart.
Drained, she looked away.
“Yes,” she said hollowly. “I’m dying, Aryn. My heart fails.” She stepped over the log and sank down on it, her limbs stiff and weak, alien to her. “We’ll soon be in Eivisia. My father’s people will care for me. It’s possible one of the healers can fix the damage. Kilidare is marvelous, but animus magic can only do so much when once the heart becomes too compromised. But I have little hope they’ll be able to undo the damage. I’ve likely seen my last summer, my last autumn.”
Her eyes moved to the fading golds and oranges of the sunset. “Soon, it will be my last sunset.”
“No.”
She jerked at the viciousness of his voice. She’d only ever heard Aryn sound like that when facing a particularly vile foe, usually right before he cut them down.
He came toward her, leaping over the fire rather than circling it and knelt in front of her, shoving his hands into her hair.
“No,” he said again, the blue of his eyes turbulent. “I’m not letting you die.”
“Aryn…” The stark pain in his eyes pierced her anger and she realized it was possible that he did feel something more for her than friendship. She didn’t even have the strength to feel bitterness, though. Just sadness. She touched his cheek, thinking back to the woman she’d been before Tainan destroyed her. “It’s not up to you.”
“Are you giving up?”
“Acceptance isn’t giving up.” Her lashes fell, as if the weight of them wearied her. “I have no strength left in me, Aryn. And I…don’t care enough to change that. I’m too broken. Everything in me…it’s riddled with cracks and all the jagged edges jab into me.”
“I’ll fill the cracks. I’ll fix the edges.” His voice broke. “Just…you can’t leave me.”
“Don’t.” The whisper was ragged. “Don’t ask me to fight. I’m just so very tired.”
When he said nothing, she forced herself to look at him. Once more, shame and misery pooled in her, for the look in his eyes was awful, as if he was the one dying inside.
Hollowness filled her and she looked away.
Better, she thought, maybe, if I’d died in that hole. Then I wouldn’t