He thought about it.
Then. "Now I just carry it."
Luneth nodded. "So do I."
That answer made more sense than anything else she'd ever said.
They both knew the difference between a lesson and a scar.
Lindarion looked at her again.
Her hood was down. Hair pulled back. Silver-blonde strands catching the wind slightly. Her cheeks were pale, but not washed-out. Her eyes were too focused for that. Too steady.
He remembered the night she didn't sleep. The breath that hitched behind her teeth. The way she looked at the rune like it had already spoken to her in a voice she couldn't unhear.
"You're not okay," he said quietly.
"No," she replied. "I'm not."
"But you're coming anyway."
"I always was."
There was a beat of silence.
Then she looked at him again, something different in her eyes now.
Not softness.
Just something she wasn't hiding.
"And when you come out of there," she said, "if you're still you—then we talk."
He tilted his head. "About what?"
