Page 66 of Roaring Spell

“I’ve noticed.”

“That sounded judgmental.”

“It sounded observational.” His voice holds a hint of humor. “You’re many things, Sakura. Patient isn’t one of them.”

“What things am I?”

The question slips out before I can stop it. In the dark, in the cold, with hours stretching ahead of us, it feels like the kind of question that needs asking.

He’s quiet for a moment. Considering.

“I’ve had too much time, probably. Watching you from across the square.”

The cold seeps through my jacket, but my face feels warm. “Is this part of standard surveillance protocol? Complimenting the civilian you’re protecting?”

“No.” A shift in the shadows—he’s turned toward me. “This is me being honest because the dark makes it easier.”

“Easier than what?”

“Than looking at you when I say these things and seeing you decide whether to run.”

My heart hammers against my ribs. “I’m not running.”

“Yet.”

“At all.” I take a breath. “I’m tired of running.” I swallow. “I don’t want to leave Mistvale.”

“Good.”

“For the first time in years, I don’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t know what to do with that.”

The words hang in the cold air. I can’t take them back. Don’t want to.

Before he can respond, a light flickers in Valesh’s window.

We fall silent. Watch.

The light moves through the house—bedroom to hallway to kitchen. Valesh’s silhouette passes the window, then disappears.

Minutes tick by. The cold deepens.

Rain starts to fall—gentle at first, then steadier. I pull my jacket tighter.

“Is this you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not—” I stop. Close my eyes. Feel the tension in my chest, the anxiety that’s been building since we started this vigil. “Maybe. A little. I can’t always tell anymore.”

“It’s fine.” His voice is unexpectedly gentle. “The rain provides cover.”

“That’s very optimistic.”

“I’m trying to be supportive.”

A laugh escapes me—quiet, surprised. “Since when are you supportive of my weather disasters?”