“Everything I did was pointless,” I say, shortening my strides as the mountain path cuts sharply up. “But it’s all behind me now, so it’s—”

“Leah, careful—”

I don’t even have time to react when Cyrus pushes me to the side, the movement so sudden that my stomach swoops low, my back slamming against the trunk of a tree. It all happens in a disorienting flash of color and sound: the branches scraping my hair, the gray sky spinning above me, and Cyrus’s body curving around mine, his hands firm on my shoulders. Rocks clatter sharply onto the path like shrapnel where I had been seconds before—where Cyrus stands now, facing me, taking the brunt of the impact. Yet he doesn’t flinch once. Doesn’t move away. Not until all the rock shards have finished falling from above.

My heart is thudding so hard I can feel the vibrations in my throat, my mind scrambling to process the facts. A fact, however improbable: He pushed me to safety. He shielded me, even though he had only half a second to react.

Another fact: He’s injured. The edge of one of the rocks has scraped his wrist, leaving behind one long red line. Not quite deep enough to bleed, but enough to break skin.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his face bent toward me, his expression shrouded by shadows.

“Am I okay?” I echo, feeling as if part of me is stuck in another timeline, one that made infinitely more sense than this. “Yeah, I’m completely fine— But you—”

“Good,” he says, his relief audible. His hands are still braced around me like he’s scared I’ll slip out of reach, and he leans closer, burying his head against the crook of my neck. His scent is stronger than the pine leaves hanging around us, or maybe I’m just more sensitive to it; all I can breathe in is the fragrance of sage. “Leah, I really … I really …” One of his hands lifts from my shoulder and braces itself against the bark of the tree behind me, his fingers clenching, nails sinking in, like it’s the only thing holding him upright. His voice is hoarse. “I really …” He doesn’t say more than that. It’s as though he won’t allow himself to, as though he’s warring with himself on something, and to lose would cost him everything. He just repeats the words over and over, murmuring them until they’re almost incomprehensible, a half-feverish jumble.

“What?” I whisper, my heart thudding faster, even though the danger is over. “Cyrus, what are you talking about?”