The thought of “never” is painful, but I push that pain away, too.
“I have done no evil,” I say honestly. “Not to anyone or anything. But I am what I am, and I can’t be anything else. It wasn’t my choice to be born to Mother any more than it was yours to be born to your mother and father. But if you want me to leave, I…” I swallow hard. “Then I’ll go.”
“No. Of course not. I don’t want you to leave.” He reaches out, taking my hand in both of his and squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry, Clara. Forgive me.”
It’s only when he touches me that I realize I’m trembling.
“Truly, I shouldn’t have…” He trails off with a shake of his head. “I woke up out of sorts and my head still isn’t right. I know who you are. I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone an innocent family. I should have thought before I opened my stupid mouth.”
“Your mouth isn’t stupid,” I say, my gaze drifting to his sleepy-M-shaped upper lip.
His mouth is one of my favorite parts of him, in fact—the way it curves when he smiles, the way it hesitates between words, making sure to pick the best, kindest ones.
But I know better than to tell him that, or encourage the strange, potential energy that thickens the air between us, the hum that makes me wonder what it might feel like to brush his lips with mine…
“You know what I mean.” He holds my gaze with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. “Forgive me? Please? I hate that I hurt you, even a little.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did,” he cuts in. “I can see it, Clara. I’m not blind.”
“All right. You did. But it’s all right. All is forgiven.” I slip my hand from his and step back. It’s too hard to focus when his fingers are tangled with mine. I take a head-clearing breath. “But I don’t think we should tell Adrina the truth about me,” I continue. “We can’t let her or any of the people here know, or I might be burned and you along with me. They won’t believe that you’re not a witch’s child, too, not with your hair the way it is. I’ve never known a witch to have a son. I’m not even sure that’s possible, but I doubt my word will mean much to a bunch of frightened, angry villagers.”
Declan blinks. “Right. My hair. I’m so addled I almost forget.” His brows pinch closer together. “What happened while I was passed out? How did this happen?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I was unconscious, too. When I woke up on the boat this morning, you were…different.”
I hesitate, considering whether to tell him about Wig and Poke and the way they saw him respond to the wards, but I decide against it. Meeting my friends would be a shock—he’d need time to recover, and I’m sure Adrina won’t be much longer. “Maybe your da will have some explanation when you get home,” I say. “Maybe the spells he placed on the island have something to do with it.”
Declan grunts. “Maybe,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very hopeful, and a beat later his furrowed brow grows even more wrinkly. “You said we woke up on the boat, yeah?”
I nod.
“How did you get me out of it? And all the way up the hill to that tree?”
I shrug. “I carried you.”
His eyes flare wider. “You’re foolin’ me.”
“No. I balanced you across my shoulders. You’re not that heavy.”
“I’m too heavy for a wee thing like you to lug up a mountain,” he says with a snort that makes my lips twitch.
“I’m stronger than I look. Especially when wards aren’t making me feel like I’ve got stones in my pockets.”
“Obviously.” His brows lift, and a new respect flickers in his eyes. “Remind me not to make you angry.”
“Hopefully you won’t need reminding.” I barely recognize my own voice. I sound…playful. Light and airy—like Adrina when she teased Declan for looking in the mirror too long after we washed our hair.
“I won’t.” He eases closer, his smile fading. “I’m so glad you’re all right. When I woke and couldn’t find you, I imagined all sorts of awful things.” He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek. “Scared me half to death.”
My lips part and my insides shiver a little, the way they do when the wind catches beneath my raven wings, swooping me higher in the air.
I want to tell him I was scared, too. Scared that he wouldn’t wake up, or that he wouldn’t be himself if he did. Scared that my part in putting him in danger would haunt me forever, a terrible mistake I couldn’t erase.
But I can’t seem to transform my thoughts into words. I can’t remember the shapes my lips should make. I can’t recall why I fear the emotions tying me into such knots that I can only stand frozen, holding my breath as Declan presses a kiss to my forehead.