Page 46 of The Last Remaining Light

The silence stretching between them no longer carried the same fear it had after the undercroft. Time had eased some of Elowynn’s wariness, though Caelyn still caught traces of it occasionally when resonance began to mute around them, or astrylite lanterns flickered unexpectedly in his presence.

But she stayed.

Even after learning what he was. Even after Agatha’s grim warnings regarding Nulls and the Dimming. Elowynn stayed; that mattered more to him than she would ever understand.

There had been times he tried to tell her this, but he couldn't fully voice aloud the way it made him feel. Exposed and vulnerable. Those were weaknesses to him, and he didn’t want to be seen as such.

“I heard you arguing with your mother earlier,” Caelyn said while forcing his wandering thoughts elsewhere.

Elowynn groaned, her eyes closing as she tilted her head back.

Caelyn stared at the elegant expanse of her neck before dragging his gaze away from it and up to her face. His throat felt suddenly dry.

“The entire abbey probably heard us arguing.”

He remained quiet, waiting. Letting her choose to confide in him should she wish and forcing himself to think of anything but placing his lips along the column of her throat.

Elowynn straightened her posture again and opened her eyes before folding her arms against the cold. “She wants me to leave right after Hearthmere, so that I am here for the remembrance rites and gone before the weather becomes too treacherous for travel.”

The words pierced him like a honed spear through his heart.

Caelyn forced himself not to react in any visible manner. He kept his expression guarded and careful, wanting to be encouraging for her.

“And you?” he asked.

Elowynn’s bright eyes looked sorrowful.

“I do not know,” she finally admitted in a whisper. “Part of me wants to go so badly it hurts.” Her expression tightened, brows pulling into a line. “And another part of me feels guilty for wanting it at all.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty,” Caelyn breathed. He leaned down some, trying to meet her eyes with his own.

Elowynn sniffled. “That is easy for you to say.”

A line creased his brow, and he shook his head. “No.” His voice lowered slightly. “It really isn’t, El.”

Elowynn turned toward him then, the lantern light catching in her crystalline eyes as her gaze swept across his face, tracing each expression as though searching for something he had not said aloud.

Locked in her gaze, he felt powerless.

“I do not want Lumenshire to become something I abandoned,” she whispered.

Caelyn forced out a breath through his nose and ripped his gaze from her. He felt his jaw clench, teeth grinding as he swallowed.

Once, he believed the Dimming itself—or the truth of what he was becoming—would be the thing that destroyed him.

Gods, how wrong he’d been.

It was her. She would be the one to destroy him.

And he would let her.

“You could never abandon this place,” he said finally, sounding more confident than he felt.

Her gaze stayed on his tense profile another moment before she nodded with slow movements. Then, quieter, with a voice so meek, she said, “I think I am afraid, Caelyn.”

That startled him enough to look back at her. He tried for a smirk in the wake of his surprise, failing miserably.

“Elowynn Selvicta admitting fear?” he asked with a gentle tease in his rough tone. “Truly a historic moment. We must inform the archivists to document it right this instant!”