It was almost too much for me as I ran my fingers down her face, trying to memorize its shape. The rolling movement of the ship and the salty wind barely registered in my consciousness, drowned out by the feeling of her warm skin under my fingers. Softly arched brows flowed into smooth skin with only the faintest imperfections; slightly rounded cheeks curved together to meet in a gentle smile.

My fingers trembled when I felt her smile.

I was dreading the long months ahead without her, almost more than I looked forward to the peace and learning I anticipated among the Sadorians. Her obvious regret in saying goodbye did little to strengthen my resolve, and, almost as if in a deliberate attempt to get me to breakdown and confess, she held her mind open to me now, ready to meld. It was awfully tempting, but to do so would destroy our chances of parting gladly, and force her to realise what I had not the courage to reveal. As my fingers moved over that sweet smile, a parting gift to me, I couldn't suppress a tremble in my fingers, and it took all I had to keep from bursting into tears, or flinging myself at her, or both.

Lead seemed to line my shoes and my heart as Fian led me away. With every step I wanted to turn around and run back to her: a journey that would only end in disappointment.

I woke, shuddering, from the memory dream, tangled in my bedroll and dripping in cold sweat. The freezing desert night air whipped around me, and shivers added to the shaking of my body.

Well I remembered that goodbye said on the deck of the Cutter. I had thought of it every day in the near six moons between it and our reunion after the rebellion. The moons had been full of wonder, yes, but I was not sure anything would compensate for that awful loneliness.

Worse still had been the realisation of how badly Elspeth had needed me in that time, and how little our separation had eased the pain I felt, at the knowledge of her relationship with Rushton.

Well I remembered her terrified feelings of fear, loneliness and longing, and just as well I remembered my own feelings of reproof and inadequacy. I had sworn, then, that I would never leave her – and I had meant it, too. Several times she had left me behind, at Obernewtyn or elsewhere, but I would not leave her for anything. She was like a drug to me – I needed to be with her, desperately. I knew she needed me, too. Though she had never returned my romantic feelings, she did rely on me as a friend and for emotional stability. I had never been more grateful than when the voice – the Agyllian bird, Atthis – had declared I was to follow her. It was the permission I desperately needed.

Yet none of this could fill the hole within me that that my unrequited love for her had left. It shook me, rocked me, and tore me apart.

Only with that thought did I snap back to reality and realise the ferocious shaking that had consumed me, the hot tears on my cheeks, and the tearing in my throat as I dragged in air between sobs.

I couldn't cope with this on my own. Even if sleep eventually came, it would be cold, unfriendly, and leave me in worse emotional shape than I was now. There was one thing that could help, and I crawled toward it, not even mustering the strength to stand and walk.

"Elspeth," I whispered, reaching for her warm form, shaking her slowly. "Elspeth, wake up."

"Dameon?" she murmured, sleep-soaked and confused. "What is it?"

"I need you, Elspeth," I whispered. I did. Really. I was an emotional wreck. My memories were haunting me, and my suppressed feeling were eating me from the inside out. I needed someone right now, and Elspeth was that someone.

She must have been able to see my distress, because for once she asked no questions. She opened her arms and let me shiver and cry until I was spent, and we lay side-by-side in the darkness, until both of us slowly fell asleep.

That was why I loved her.