“The Sentella Kere who is wanted dead by the League and—”
Zarya placed her hand over Sorche’s mouth to keep her from carrying on. “You can’t speak of this, Sorch. To anyone but me. Ever. Do you understand?” It would mean Darling’s life if she did.
Sorche nodded, then pulled Zarya’s hand from her lips. Her gaze danced around the room as she came to grips with the truth as to why Zarya was still here. “So where were you for the last year? Honestly?”
She didn’t want to answer that, but she’d never liked lying to her sister either. “I was imprisoned.” She didn’t tell Sorche where because she didn’t want her sister to hate Darling for it.
“I knew it!” Sorche grabbed her arm again. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“Stop it!” Zarya snapped at her. “I can’t leave him until I know he’s going to live, okay?”
Sorche finally calmed down. “You really do love him, don’t you?”
“More than my life.”
Her sister rubbed Zarya’s arm, offering her comfort. “All right, but I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay. You hear me? While you might love him, I definitely love you.”
She smiled at her sister’s unnecessary concern. “All right. Now how did you get up here?”
“It wasn’t easy at first. This obnoxious doorman was interrogating me. Thoroughly. Then this odd guy, dressed in an outlandish orange getup dismissed him and asked who I was and why I wanted to see you.”
“Maris?”
“Yeah. He’s… different, isn’t he?”
Zarya laughed. “A little. So he showed you up?”
“Yeah.” Sorche swept a curious gaze from the top of Zarya’s head to her feet. “Now explain your clothes. I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”
Zarya shook her head as she looked down at the filmy, light blue dress she wore. It flowed around her in a whisper of silk—to quote Maris. Sorche was right, it wasn’t her usual style of a dark battlesuit. “It’s called a day gown.”
“Day gown?” Sorche pulled at the lightweight silk outer skirt. “I bet this thing cost more than a year’s tuition.”
Funny, Zarya had never put it in those terms before. Now she felt guilty for enjoying it. People were hungry and here she was, dressed up for no reason whatsoever.
Sorche sucked her breath in sharply. “I’m sorry, Zarya. I didn’t mean to ruin it for you. Please smile again. You look beautiful in it. You do and it’s about time you wore something really nice. I’m just not used to seeing you dressed like this. That’s all.”
She hugged her sister. “It’s fine. Now let me find Gera and get you settled in one of the rooms.”
Sorche hesitated. “You sure I can’t kidnap you?”
She cringed at those words. But most of all, she cringed at the idea of leaving Darling. Ever.
You have to. No matter how much she loved him, she couldn’t stay and endanger him. “Once I know he’s going to live, I’ll let you take me home.”
Fearing he was blind—and would remain so—Darling opened his eyes slowly. As he blinked, the world came into focus. Not perfect, but it was back to what it’d been before his attack.
He breathed a sigh in relief.
Thank the gods…
Who knew you could be so grateful for a hazy view of the world? But he’d take fuzzy over nothing any day.
He lay on his back with a weight draped over his chest. Glancing down, he smiled as he saw Zarya sound asleep there with her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. Now that had to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And it instantly set fire to his blood for many reasons.
Grateful to and for her, he brushed his fingers through her soft, mahogany hair.
She’d saved his life.
His head was still throbbing and much of what had happened was foggy, but one memory was crystal clear. The sound of her angry voice over the roar of the flames around him.
“Don’t you dare die on me, Darling Cruel! I swear I’ll follow you into hell to beat you if you do!”
He was a psycho bastard to have that mean so much to him. But it meant everything.
She really did love him.
And the truth was, he loved her, too. More than he could believe. More than he could stand at times.
For her, he would do anything.
So why did it have to hurt so much? Be so damned hard?
Because people let each other down. Always. No matter how much they love each other, someone always screws up.
And the more you love them, the deeper it stings…
It was a natural state of being. No one could ever live up to the expectations of someone else. Sooner or later, everyone failed and he was too tired of being disappointed to keep up the pretense that he wasn’t.
She didn’t disappoint you in this.
No, but it still didn’t erase the past when she had, and in a much bigger way.
Why couldn’t you have opened the door then, Z?
As bad as the fire had been, it was nothing compared to the months of hell her people had put him through.