Vlad gently wiped the tears from Liliette’s cheeks and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You don’t need to see me off,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “The air is coldest just before dawn. If you catch a chill, you’ll end up with a fever again.”
Liliette’s mind was shrouded in a thick fog. She couldn’t fathom how she had caused him such pain—how she had wounded the one person she most feared being hated by. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she had shattered his, yet no answers came to her. Her thoughts, stubborn and unyielding, refused to offer a way forward. It was unfamiliar terrain—all her life, she had been surrounded by those who sought to harm her, but she had never been the one to inflict pain.
“Vlad,” she began, her voice trembling, but he spoke at the same moment.
“I…”
