His lips melt into mine and heat fills me. His hand travels to my waist and he grips me firmly, pulling me into him, like I’m oxygen and he’s been starved of air. I come up for a breath, taking in all of him. Holding on to the sweetness of a moment that has nothing to do with war or destruction. Wishing life were less complicated and I could sit with him by the oceanside instead of in a cell. Sleep next to him under the stars instead of on a cave floor. Wishing I could be the love he deserves. I kiss him once more, tasting sweat on his lips, his stubbornness, strength. And I deepen the kiss, savoring everything that shines about him, everything that’s a mirror of myself. We pull apart and his lips are swollen from my eagerness.

He cups my cheek. “Since we met, it feels like at every turn the world tries to take you from me.” His hand falls from my face and he turns away. But I don’t miss the way he swipes under his eye.

“Look at me.” I make him face me, and the iron resolve that was just there has cracked. I see him now, the way I saw him working over my wounds in that cell, with such care in his touch. My Jhamal. Armored to the world, but inside, fluffy, delicate, and sweet. I smooth a thumb at the tear he tried to hide.

“I will not die,” I say, hoping it’s true.

He takes my hand and kisses my fingertips. “Then we have already won.” He shoulders his weapon and tightens the bandage on his wound. He turns to go.

Part of me goes with him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TOTSI’S SHOP’S DOORS ARE barricaded shut and blackened all over. Moonlight glints on the glass windows, webbed with cracks and charred as if someone took a blowtorch to them. Faraway voices ricochet off the abandoned buildings like bullets.

“What happened here?”

Grag shrugs, but his lips twist in curiosity. He offered to accompany us to Totsi’s since he, too, was going that way. I’m still watching him closely with side-eyes, though the intel he gave so far seems legit.

Zora sets down on her knees, palms up, like she’s been known to do. Her lips move a mile a minute, but her whispers are too low to hear. I look at Bri and she shrugs.

“We should have started this journey properly or stopped a long time ago,” Zora says, hopping up. “Thankfully, the Ancestors are gracious.”

Prayer? Is that what she’s been doing?

She kicks her weapon up from the ground, catching it with her hand. She twirls it on her finger, and it thrums to a stop at Grag’s throat. “I’m watching you.”

He gulps.

“I swear, I’ve told it true.”