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“I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to know you,” Hali said. “You’re one of the most intelligent, talented people I’ve ever met. And kind. And brave. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend.”
Osric shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t know me when I was younger. I was . . . not the easiest person to get along with. I thought that because I was different, because I had these powers, that I was somehow better than everyone else. I was arrogant, and cold. And then, realizing I wasn’t this girl that everyone treated me as, that only made it even more confusing. I pushed people away, because I thought it would be easier than trying to make them understand.”
He took a deep breath, his chest feeling strangely tight.
“It wasn’t until much later that I realized . . . I didn’t have to be one person or the other, that I didn’t have to be who others had shaped me into in their minds. I could be my own self. I could be proud of who I was, of the things that set me apart, without letting them define me completely.”
Hali squeezed his hand, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. He’d never said any of this out loud, not to anyone. But with her, it felt . . . safe. It felt like maybe, just maybe, she would understand.
“It got easier once I began transitioning. I had surgery,” he said, voice stronger now, and he nodded toward the crescent scars on his chest. Just like the runes along his arm, they were indentations that glowed with the same molten hue as his blood. “Took elixirs. It was a long, slow process, and it’s not one that will ever be a complete—transformation, I suppose. But it was a choice I made, to bring my body more in line with who I am. With the person I want to be.”
“It isn’t painful?” Hali asked carefully.
Osric shook his head. “Sometimes. But I don’t mind them. They’re a part of me, a part of my journey, and in a way, they’re just as beautiful. Just as hard-won.”
Hali’s eyes were shining, and she reached up to brush a lock of hair from his face. “They are beautiful,” she said, her voice thick. “Just like you.”
Osric’s breath caught in his chest, and he felt a hot tear slip free, trailing down his cheek. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond to that. He’d never felt beautiful, not in his whole life. Powerful, maybe. Skilled. But never beautiful.
“Thank you,” he managed at last. “For . . . for listening. For not . . . I don’t know. Judging me, I suppose. Not everyone understands.”
She hesitated, her thumb tracing a line along his jaw. “It’s . . . it’s a gift, that you trusted me enough to share that. I know it must not have been easy. But I’m so glad you did.”
Osric closed his eyes, and leaned into her touch. He felt . . . light, somehow. Like a weight he’d been carrying for centuries had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt . . . seen, in a way he never had before, and the thought should have terrified him. But it didn’t. It felt like coming home.
The air between them crackled with tension, and neither of them made any move to dispel it. Osric’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he was a little light-headed from the pain, from the long, exhausting night. But more than anything, he felt a pull, a magnetic tug drawing him toward Hali, and he didn’t want to fight it. He didn’t think he could.
He reached up, his hand finding the curve of her cheek, and when she didn’t pull away, he let his fingers trail through her hair. It was soft, and silky, and it fell away from her face with the lightest touch. She shivered, and he felt it, the tremor that ran through her, and he wished, more than anything, that there was something more he could do to keep her safe.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice hushed. “For everything.”
“I . . . I?—”
Osric’s thumb grazed her lower lip, and he stilled, holding his breath. He was so close, he realized, he could count the freckles scattered across her nose, the gold flecks in her eyes. She smelled like parchment and ink, and something sweet, like honey, and he wanted to drink her in, every drop.
He leaned in, and for a moment, he thought she was leaning in, too. He closed his eyes, and his lips parted, and he was so, so ready to taste her, to lose himself in the sweetness of her mouth.
But at the last moment, he stopped himself.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t put her in danger, not any more than he already had. His path was a dangerous one, a path that would lead straight to the Obsidian Circle and more besides, and he couldn’t ask her to follow him down it. He had a duty, a debt to repay, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t let anything stand in his way.
With a shuddering breath, he forced himself to pull away, to put an arm’s length between them. He had no right to feel this way, this pull, this hunger. He was sworn to the Forge, to his duty, and nothing could come before that. Nothing.
He looked away, unable to bear the disappointment he was sure he’d see in her eyes. But when he glanced at her, her expression was unreadable, her eyes dark, and he felt a pang, like a blade to the heart.
“I—I’m sorry. I really need to get back to the forge, and I . . .”
He forced himself to straighten up, to step back from her, and it felt like tearing a part of his own soul away. She looked up at him, her eyes shining, and he wished, more than anything, that he could stay. But he couldn’t. He had made a promise, a vow, and he couldn’t let anything, not even her, stand in his way.
“Osric.” Hali’s voice was a whisper. “Please. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
He closed his eyes, unable to bear the look on her face, the worry, the fear. He wanted to promise her, more than anything. But it was a promise he couldn’t keep.
“I’ll do my best,” he said at last.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said. “I wish . . .”
She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t have to. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a promise, a wish. A future that could never be.
