She shoved him as hard as she could, and he stumbled back. Shock and disgust slowed her sense, and she vaguely thought to reach for the little weapons she had hidden into her jewelry, only to remember that she wore none on these secret trips.

Panting, she moved to run, but he recovered just as she did. Arm locked around her waist, he grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground, as if she weighed nothing at all. Even with a drunkard, her strength was nothing to his.

Her knees broke the fall, but the sudden collapse forced her hands to pitch forward, sending the vial catapulting from her hands. Durkhanai watched it shatter, so simply.

Another day Mahd would stay ill. Another day he would suffer.

Anger filled her chest like ice. Her hands grasped for anything, anything in reach with which to hit him, when suddenly a hand covered the man’s mouth. His eyes bulged, then closed. His body crumpled to the floor, unconscious, revealing Asfandyar behind him.

Durkhanai stood, filled with the sudden urge to kick the man’s head, to run her nails over his skin, though he lay motionless. She shook from withholding the urge. There were no roses, then, only thorns laced with poison.

Her hands had closed around a broken branch while she was on the ground. She approached, hands raised to strike, when Asfandyar intercepted her path.

“Don’t,” he whispered. She opened her hands. The branch fell to the floor.

Where were you? she wanted to shout, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

It didn’t matter: Asfandyar caught the accusation in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to take so long.”

Durkhanai shook as the anger dissipated, leaving only the trauma. She wanted to cry, to scream—anything. Asfandyar came close, tentative, and she threw her arms around him, grip lethal around his neck.

He rocked from the force, taken aback. She thought maybe he wouldn’t react at all. But then he grabbed her with equivalent force, his arms encircling her. He stroked her hair, saying nothing, and she was glad. Durkhanai took quick, short breaths, hyperventilating into his neck. She could feel her heart beating like a hummingbird’s in her chest and wondered if he felt it, too. Her knees were collapsing, and he lowered her gently to the ground.

An irreversible eternity passed in those few moments.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Asfandyar finally said, voice hoarse. She knew she would never be. She didn’t want to let him go.

She was cocooned against him, face against his neck. Her hands had fallen to rest on his waist and she was leaning into him.

She felt safe, but Durkhanai knew she must pull away. Just another moment, she told herself.

One more second.