Zeph opened his eyes and immediately winced, the morning light stabbing its way through the window with acute accuracy—right in his face. He rolled away, but that only made the throbbing inside his head beat like war drums.

“Kill me,” he murmured.

“I’ve considered it, actually,” came the voice beside his bed.

He cracked one eye open. “Arwyn,” he rasped. “Why…what…” He licked his lips. His mouth felt like he’d swallowed sand.

“Here,” she said, “drink this.” She thrust a cup in his face. “Sit up.” He tried. He really did. But his head was protesting rather persistently. “Drink it,” she demanded, “or I’ll pour it over your head.”

He cracked open his other eye. “You’re angry with me,” he said.

“Angry? Whatever makes you think that?”

He sat up slowly, resting his head against the wall. “An intuitive guess.” He reached for the cup, sniffed it. “What is it?”

“Searly said you would have a headache this morning. That should help.” She got up from her seat and moved briskly toward the door. “There are some mint leaves beside the bed. Chew on those. It will help with nausea.” She wouldn’t look at him as she spoke. “You cut your hair,” she said, though she made no further comment. She just stared at the back of the door. “I have things to do,” she said as she pulled the door open a bit too hard. “Drink it all if you hope to feel better. I hope you enjoyed your merriment.” She walked out without another word.

Zeph’s head splintered at the sound of the slamming door. And the organ inside his chest—fractured.

Arwyn lifted her hands, spreading her fingers wide at the base of a giant oak, and listened to the gentle hum of nature. “Let us take our hearts for a walk in the forest, Daughter, and listen to its quiet music.” She smiled weakly at her father’s words, clinging to the memory of his wisdom, as she struggled to regain her temperament. She’d behaved poorly with Zeph this morning, and she would no doubt need to apologize for it. She hadn’t even realized she’d been angry. She had only meant to bring him a remedy for his headache, something for his queasiness, and be gone. Because no matter how hurt with him she was, she still wanted to care for him. However, seeing him, being alone with him, after he had kissed and left her, had set her off-kilter. Only Zeph could do that, set her off balance. And she was beginning to hate it, and that had made her angry.

She sighed, knowing she needed to gather her wits before she made a bigger hash of things.

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind, let go of her troubles. She breathed in, slow and steady, and breathed out, concentrating on the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves on gentle breezes, and woodland creatures pitter-pattering along the floor of the forest. There was an enchanting harmony to it all, and Arwyn absorbed the energy the forest offered, allowing it to calm her, soothe her, until she was no longer plagued with the restlessness and the frustration she had brought with her.

She lingered a while longer, wandering further to the river where she sat on the edge of the bank for hours, thinking, remembering. It was here Zeph had taught her his childhood game with the stones he kept in his pocket. It was here where she had given him a little more of her heart. It was here where she had been struck with a poisoned arrow, and it was here where Zeph had protected her, saving her once again.

Then the sunlight started to shrink, and the forest seemed to tell her it was time to go.

Arwyn entered her chamber much later than she had expected to return—the sun had nearly set by the time she closed her door—and was surprised to find Zeph waiting for her, sitting on the edge of her bed, hands neatly folded in his lap.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

“Waiting for you,” he said, coming to a stand, though not advancing in her direction.

He was watching her, she noticed, very closely, as though he was uncertain about the reception he would receive. Which was ridiculous. Zeph never cared about the kind of reception he received, least of all from her.

She moved casually across the room, untying her cloak along the way and removing it, draping it across the back of a chair. “For what purpose?”

“To talk.”

Arwyn smoothed the fabric of her dress. “Feeling better, I take it?”

One corner of Zeph’s mouth lifted. “Much. Thank you.”

“It was no bother.”

“It seemed like a bother,” he said, his eyes smiling. “You have a temper.”

She cleared her throat and averted her eyes from his. “About that. I owe you an apology.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yes, well, I give it all the same.”

“I don’t want your apology, Arwyn.” He took a step toward her.

She took a step back, her eyes lifting to his. “You needn’t be difficult about it. I’m telling you I’m sorry.”

“The other night…I hurt you,” he said gently, “when I walked away.”

“Ran,” she said. “You ran away.”

He took another step toward her, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’m sorry I ran.”

She folded her arms across her chest and looked down, saying nothing. She didn’t trust she could speak without her voice wobbling. He had hurt her, and she tried not to be hurt by it. She understood why he’d left. But her heart had taken a spill nonetheless. I am a river, she chanted to herself. A deep, flowing river.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Zeph said, taking another step. “If I thought I could run from you, I quickly discovered I was a fool for trying. You’re in my veins, Arwyn. You’re in my thoughts.” He spoke clearly, yet with hesitation, as though he feared to stammer. “I close my eyes and you’re in my dreams. I can’t run from you when I feel you in my bones.”

“Stop,” she said.

“Do you truly want me to?” he asked, stepping closer still.

“What do you want, Zeph?”

“Not your apology.”

“What then?”

“Tell me what you feel for me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It wouldn’t change anything.”

“Say them. Let’s find out.”

“I can’t. I’ve held them inside for so long, if I let them go now…” She shook her head. “They’re all that’s keeping me together.”

“Say them.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“You’ll just run again. I’ll say them, and you will run.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

He took another step and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I won’t run.”

She turned her head.

“For years,” he whispered, “I’ve had the words of monsters in my head. I need your words to drown them out. Give them to me. I need to hear what they sound like. Please.”

A sob escaped through Arwyn’s lips. She caught it with her hands.

“Tell me how you feel for me.”

“I can’t.”

“Try.”

“Zeph—”

“Damn it, Arwyn,” he said, holding her face, his eyes imploring. “Tell me.”

“I…”

“Say it!”

“I love you,” she said through broken cries and blurry eyes, releasing her words like arrows, aiming them right for his heart. “From the moment you pulled me out from underneath my bed, I’ve loved you.”

Zeph wrapped his arms around her, held her as close as two people could possibly be, and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair. He smiled a watery smile. “I’m not running,” he whispered.

She shook her head and pulled away from him. “What does that mean?”

He swallowed, kissed the top of her head, and stepped away. He planted himself on the floor, back against the wall, and drew his knees up. She calmly sat on the edge of the bed and watched him, waiting for him to speak. His expression, at first, was unreadable. Typical Zeph. But Arwyn’s talent wasn’t reading expressions. It was emotions she could read. And Zeph’s emotions were bubbling underneath, building and building. She could feel it happening, could feel her heart pounding, could feel his heart pounding with such heaviness that she wondered if their hearts could take the beating. He pulled the drawstring pouch from his pocket, emptied the colored stones into his hand, and for a long minute he just stared at them.

And then it happened. An eruption. He threw the colored stones across the room and his unreadable expression morphed, dissolved into inexplicable pain. A keening wail of utter sadness broke from his belly and burst out like a pot of boiling water. His hands covered his face as he sobbed into them. For every tear he shed, Arwyn shed one too. She was beside him on the floor, holding him, as he wept. She didn’t remember taking the steps. One minute she was on the bed, the next she was on her knees.

Everything he was feeling, he was setting it free, letting it out, and all his hurt and pain, anger and guilt, fear and sadness, they felt like a whip and a lash against her skin. But she took it. She took it all. Because he had carried it inside him for so long—and it was killing him.

“I don’t know how to find my way back,” he cried. “I don’t know how.” He let his head fall against the wall and he lowered his hands. Opening his eyes, he looked at her, defeated. “I don’t know how.”

Arwyn crawled into his lap and held his face between her palms. “Where does it hurt?” She sipped at his tears. “Show me.”

Zeph placed his palm over his heart. “Here,” he said. “It hurts here.”

She held his eyes for a moment before dipping her head and placing a kiss where she knew him best, his heart. “Where else?”

Zeph touched his temples with his fingertips, his gaze watching her closely. “Here,” he answered.

Arwyn grazed a kiss over each temple. “Where else?” she asked again.

He blinked, his throat bobbed, but he did not answer a third time.

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Do you remember when you asked me if I could mend broken hearts?” He nodded. “You said you would let me have a go at it. Do you recall?” Another nod. “Zeph,” she whispered, “let me try.” Her mouth moved over the seam of his, hovering there, waiting for him to respond.

And then he did, slowly, carefully, working his lips over hers in gentle nips and tugs. One hand found the nape of her neck, the other found her cheek. Their lips parted, and their tempo increased, but it was not hurried or frantic. It was a longing that was unfurling with soft hands and soft breaths and rapidly beating hearts.

Arwyn knew what Zeph needed. She knew he would have to be the one to lead. So much had been taken from him. And she did not want to take anything. So she moved when he coaxed her to move, and she stilled when he coaxed her to still. She was his to instruct, his to cling to, his to pull, and when he rolled her onto her back, she was his to love.

Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. He kissed each one of them. Arwyn thought her heart might burst. For so long, she had loved Zeph. For so long. “I love you,” she said, knowing he needed her words. It didn’t matter he couldn’t give them back. She knew he was giving her more than words. “I love you,” she said again. “I love you.”

He sat up, removed his tunic, exposing his chest, and placed her hand against his heart, which was a drum against her palm as he kissed her. Then he lifted her off the floor and placed her on the bed, his body coming down over hers. She traced the lines on his back, the scars the monsters had left behind. She longed to erase them, but no magic could take those kinds of scars away. She could only soothe them, make them hurt less. “I love you.” Now that she had said the words she couldn’t stop saying them. They kept spilling out, filling the quiet of the room. She wanted to be sure her words were the only words he heard.

It was subtle, the change in him, but she saw it. His hair swept forward, barely touching his shoulders. She couldn’t help touching it, marveling at it, running her fingers through it gently. She didn’t ask him why he had cut it. She only asked, “Is this what you wanted? Was this your decision?”

“Yes,” he said with more air than voice.

“It becomes you,” she observed.

Zeph’s eyes locked onto hers. They said so many things. I’m scared. I’m lonely. I’m hurting. I need you. “Arwyn,” he whispered, her face framed between his forearms. “I…I don’t know what I’m doing.” He shifted to his left. “I’m sorry. I should leave.”

“You said you wouldn’t run.”

“I don’t want to ruin you with—”

“Shh,” she said, another tear falling. “I am yours. I have always been yours.”

“Arwyn.” He looked at her, his eyes once again saying so many things. I’m still scared. I’m still lonely. I’m still hurting. I still need you. When he kissed the stray tear, there was a fragility to his efforts, like the act of doing something truly kind was completely foreign to him. Then when he kissed her long and deep, he surprised her by the things his mouth said. I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to be lonely. I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to need you. But I do—I do—I do—I do.

She tasted the salt on his tongue. She wanted him to taste the love on hers.

Her pulse quickened, “Zeph. I love you, Zeph,” she said with quick puffs of air.

“I’m not running. I am here,” he said. They were the only words he could give her. She knew. She felt it.

Then Zeph surprised her by rolling onto his side, bringing her with him, holding her tightly with one arm, pulling the coverlet on top of them. For a time, nothing was said. Night had fallen like flower petals, soft and silent, and Arwyn was grateful for the quiet. The world outside had stretched a deep, velvet curtain around them, sheltering them, hiding them away. If only for tonight.

“You were wrong,” Zeph said, breaking the silence. “Your words changed everything.” Zeph kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair “Thank you, Arwyn. The monsters in my head aren’t quite so loud anymore.”