Page 90 of This Shattered Star

Propping the upper half of my body with my elbow, I stared down at him. “Your lack of sorrow is disgusting. Those are your friends.”

“They made their own choices. And without a single regret.” He sat up as well, but instead of propping himself up with an elbow, he rested his back against the wall, locking both handsbehind his head. “Weknew the risks. Of associating with a traitor to the crown, in writing our names down to come here, all of it.”

“It’s not fair.” Not for them. Not for Kodhan, either. Even as the Son of the Second, he wasn’t immune to Maverick’s wrath. “The three of you deserve full lives. Together.”

“And you don’t?” he asked sharply.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“You deserve to live just as much as we do.”

I averted his gaze, swallowing against the tightness building in my throat. “All I am saying is that I know how unforgiving grief can be. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

He considered my words—the sorrow lacing them—and sighed. “I’ve spent so long in its presence that grief and I are one and the same. I penned my name to be here in hopes that I could finally begin to part from it.”

“By watching your friends die?”

No reply. Kodhan’s eyes went vacant, lost in some distant memory.

Theia’s words came back to me on faint whisps.I have no thirst for power. Only to stop the suffering of the ones I love.

My lungs constricted to the point where I had to rub my palm across my chest to soothe the sudden ache. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”

Slowly, he blinked. Coming back to himself. “Don’t be. I know it seems foolish.”

“It’s not,” I said quickly. “You care for one another so deeply. There’s something to admire in that.” Even if tragedy waited to tear them apart. Then, quieter, I added, “There’s nothing in that lonely temple that can compete against love. Not magic. Not status, and certainly not power. You’ve come here as winners already, I think.”

A gentle smile graced his lips. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” It wavered when I failed to smile back. “What’s wrong?”

Despite myself, jealousy sprouted ugly, gnarled roots under my palm, still pressing against my chest. “It’s nothing important.”

His attention flickered to my hand. “If it is bothering you, then it is important.”

Letting go of my chest, I traced an absent pattern across the sheets instead. “It just never gets easier. Those constant little reminders of what it feels like to be alone.”

“You are not alone.” The tone was like a reprimand. Harsh. Unyielding.

“Not right now, obviously—”

“Not now. Not after Wit. Physically or otherwise, near or immeasurably far, Theia is with you. Brannon is with you.Iam with you. You arenotalone. Never again. Is that clear?”

My hand halted mid-air.Never again.Such certainty. It sounded like he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that there was a future for meafter Wit.I felt the heat of his stare burn holes into the crown of my head. He expected an answer.

“Alright.” A weak response. But the overwhelming emotions pumping through my veins left room for little else.

Nodding, Kodhan studied me, my features, my bare collarbone that peeked out from where I still hadn’t buttoned my vest. “Here,” he murmured, removing both hands from behind his head. He used one to push my hip down onto the mattress, coaxing me onto my back, and the other to pull his dagger from where I’d been leaning on it. “That can’t be comfortable.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it, letting the hilt clatter loudly onto the floor.

Lips parting disbelief, I watched as he resumed his earlier position, stretching comfortably. He wasfussing.It was so outof place for him that I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

“How considerate,” I mused, settling back onto my side with a folded arm underneath my head. From here, all I could see was his exposed chest and abdomen. He hadn’t fixed his vest either.

Not that I particularly minded.

Many relied on their magic as their primary, if not only, source of strength. But not him. My suspicions had been correct. All of him was honed to perfection. He didn’t need blades, or magic, as weapons. He was one. I repressed the urge to run my hands across his skin again. To feel each trained, corded muscle.

When I forced my eyes up, they latched onto the heat in his own gaze. A small shiver coursed through me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he ground out.