“Let go,” Jember said, his warning even more threatening in the dead muting of his mask. He had two hands free to go for his knife, but he didn’t. He didn’t try to pull away.

And, I think, if it had been anyone but Saba, they would’ve let go. For a moment she stared wide-eyed and brimming with tears at the metal leg she gripped. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head, and when she looked up at Jember her gaze was steady, glaring as much as imploring.

To be honest, I couldn’t decide who to root for, so I took a few steps back.

He attempted to kick away from her incredible grip, pausing when he couldn’t. “Let go, Saba.”

I rocked between taking a step closer and another away. His voice had carried an edge I was familiar with. On the brink of something like panic. Like me, he had survival instincts that were switched on when he was restrained.

Saba gripped her heart, her face speaking nothing but anguish as she pointed to the castle.

I gasped. “She’s asking for your help, Jember,” I translated.

“I don’t care,” he said, jerking his leg from Saba’s grasp. “Don’t look at me like that, Saba. You’re the one who left, so don’t act like I owe you anything now.”

Saba gaped slightly, brows pulled in. And then she shoved Jember over, horse and all. The horse squealed as it fell, and Jember’s cry of pain followed, along with a string of curses. I let out a single laugh, God forgive me, before realizing the horse had fallen on his missing leg.

I stumbled, trying to avoid getting kicked as the horse bumbled to its feet and ran off a little ways, keeping clear of us as I ran over to Jember. So much for my new survival habit.

Saba had been heading back to the house, but tripped to a stop. She rushed back to us, crouching in front of Jember and reaching for his leg.

“Don’t touch it,” he said, panting.

Saba’s hand trembled, hovering above his leg. She looked at him with such painful understanding it made me want to cry. She reached out, carefully removing the mask and dropping it in the sand beside him. Jember squinted for a moment, but whether it was from pain or the glaring sun, I couldn’t tell. Her fingertips touched his chest, tentative, spreading slowly until her entire hand was resting against his heartbeat, the contact, even over his shirt, making Jember wince. But finally—finally—I saw a remnant, a spark in his face of the look Magnus gave me sometimes. Hopeful, pleased, wanting to be adorable and adored, but all too muddled by the familiar anger Jember would never let go of.

“I can’t go through it again,” he said, cringing with each breath. “Please don’t ask me to.”