Followed by Fros(70)

“Scar?”

He nodded.

I reached back and touched my own puckered scar. The stitches had been removed the night before. “We have something in common, then.”

Lo smirked. “I would hope you do not have so many.”

I pulled away from the window, letting the curtain fall back in place. I searched for somewhere to look besides at him, something to focus on that would keep tremors from my hands and those sharp twinges from my chest. I moved to my trunk, tucked my skirt under my legs, and sat. I focused on the folds in my skirt. “How is Faida?” I asked. If I did return to Zareed, I would have to learn to love her as much as I loved him. I wouldn’t be able to bear it otherwise. “Did she return with you to the city, or will you live in Djmal?”

He shook his head. “She is not here.”

“When will she arrive?”

“She will not.”

I tilted my head. “Are you here to retrieve your things, then? Surely you’re not retiring as captain of the guard! Imad would be—”

“I am not married, Misa.”

My next words caught in my throat, stuck into the flesh like cattle wire. Had I heard him correctly? My pulse beat in my ears.

Lo stepped away from the door and paced over to the adjoining bathroom, his calloused hands clasped behind his back. “I went back to Djmal to break off the engagement—a very dishonorable thing, for us. That is why it took so long for me to return. I had a lot of arguing to do and promises to make to smooth things over between my family and Faida’s. I am not sure I’ll be welcomed back any time soon. My mother is especially upset with me.”

I listened, my mind blank, staring so hard at my skirt it should have ignited. I shook my head as he talked, and long after he finished, unable to digest the news.

“But . . . why?” I croaked.

“Because it would not be fair to Faida,” he murmured, “to trap her in a marriage when I have such feelings for another. It would not be fair to either of us.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“I love you, Misa.”

“No!” I shouted, jumping to my feet, finally looking at him. Tears rimmed my eyes. “You couldn’t have known . . . You didn’t know I had broken the curse!”

“I did not,” he said, strangely calm. “But that changes nothing.”

“But it makes no sense!” I cried. “I thought you were happy. I wanted you to be happy! Faida . . . How could anyone not love Faida? And me, a cursed woman who couldn’t even touch you!”

He smirked—smirked!

I shook my head. “The bracelet. What about . . . ?” I pointed to his wrist.

He lifted the hand with the gold band. “It only means that I have been spoken for.” He smiled. “Did you read the book? The passage I underlined?”

I gaped at him, wild-eyed. For happiness has wings, and when burdened by the things a man should want, Garen could not reach it.

I took in a shaky breath. “M-Me?” He had meant me? But how could a cursed woman be the one with wings?

“I did not mean to upset you,” he said, stepping toward me. “You have no obligation to me, Misa. If you do not feel—”

“H-How I feel,” I stuttered, sobs choking my voice. “If only you knew how I feel about you.”

He smiled. How beautiful his smile was.

I could not stop the tears. “It’s not fair, you coming to me now,” I whispered, my back hitting the wall. I had not realized I had been moving away from him. “I gave you up. I broke the curse because I gave you up!”

That froze him in his steps.

Another sob shook me, and I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my gown, for all the good it did me. “It was everything. I had to be selfless. I didn’t know—I had to give it all up. My hair . . . my life . . . you. It was the only way to warm a cold heart.”

“You do not have a cold heart, Misa.”

“But I did!” I cried. “I did, and I-I don’t know . . . I don’t know . . .”

He looked at me with glossy, forlorn eyes, his shoulders slumping. “You don’t know if accepting me will bring the curse back.”

I pressed my lips together in a futile effort to keep from crying and nodded.

I couldn’t bear the agony on his face. I slid down the wall to the floor and covered my face with my hands, tears pouring over my fingers. My face grew hot and swollen, and my breaths came in short chokes, but I could not stop.

Then he knelt in front of me, gently pulling my hand away from my face.

Liquid thunder raced from each of his fingertips through my skin, boiling my blood and turning my pounding heart inside out. My breath caught in my throat. My tears stopped. The lightest touch . . . but it engulfed me.

Hesitant, I closed my trembling fingers around his. How did I think I knew what warmth truly felt like before this moment?

“Misa,” he whispered.

“I love you,” I said, those three words bringing tears anew.

His lips pulled into a sad smile, and he touched my cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. His skin burned against mine. How dearly I wanted to lunge into his arms, to cry into his neck, to kiss his full lips and forget I had ever existed before that moment.

But I had been cold for so long.

“The last thing I want is to hurt you,” he said, lowering his head so he could look directly into my eyes. “Take whatever time you need to consider; I don’t need an answer now. Whatever you decide, I will be content. Nothing you can say will change my heart.”