I squint at him, giving him a glare that tells him not to try to make me laugh.

“Have you heard that joke about—”

I rip through the flimsy dress under my blanket. It was ruined anyway. I tear it off and toss it out from beneath the blanket.

It lands on top of his pants on the rug.

Raffe bursts out laughing. It’s a beautiful thing—rich and carefree. It calls to me to laugh along with him.

“You are so great at creative solutions,” he says still chuckling. “They usually involve ripping, tearing, kicking, or stabbing, but they’re creative.”

I let go of the blanket with my teeth now that I can hold it securely around me with my hands. “I just got tired of the wetness sticking to me, that’s all. I think I was pretty safe from the threat of your joke being funny.”

“I’m wounded by your comment,” he says with a smile.

The word “wounded” echoes in my head, and I see it does in his, too, because his smile fades.

“What happened back there at the old aerie? I saw you get stung by the scorpion. I watched you die. How did you survive?”

I explain about the scorpion sting paralyzing and slowing down the heart and breathing so that the victim seems dead.

“I thought for sure I’d lost you.”

Lost me?

I stare into the fire without seeing it. “I thought I’d lost you too.” The words barely come out.

The fire crackles and pops, eating away at the wood. It reminds me of the fire at the aerie when Raffe carried me to safety even though he thought I was dead.

“Thank you for returning me to my family. That was a crazy, dangerous thing to do.”

“I was feeling a little crazy and dangerous then.”

“Yeah, I saw that.” I’ll never get rid of the image of him smashing the giant scorpion tubes in rage and killing all the monsters after seeing me die.

His lips twitch as if laughing at himself. “That must have been entertaining.”

“No, it really wasn’t. It was kind of…” heartbreaking. “Heartbreaking.” I blink when I realize what just slipped out of my mouth. “I mean…” Nothing comes to mind that I can substitute for what I just said.

“Heart.” He looks deeply into the flames. “Breaking.” The sounds flow out between his lips like they’re new to him, like he’s never said them before. He nods. “Yeah. I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

The fire crackles. It’s surprising how quickly a fire can warm you up.

“I wasn’t saying you were heartbroken.” I sound like English is a new language for me, the way I stutter out the words. “I just meant it was hard for me to… to watch.”

He neither confirms nor denies that he might or might not have been even a teeny bit heartbroken.