Day 44:

"Very well," Reina said, motioning him through the open door.

He followed her wordlessly, pulled the door shut behind him a little more firmly than was necessary. He grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her around to face him. During the fight, the Ring of the Lucii had been a burning sun on her hand. Her skin had cracked like broken glass and violet-white light had been pouring out of her. Just like on Daemonfire Night.

Her skin was whole again. But faint white lines twisted up her neck and across her shoulders. He seized her chin and turned her head back and forth to get a better look in the light streaming in from the window. Like faint spiderweb scars, they followed the line of her neck, crossed her collarbone, and disappeared beneath her top.

He released her chin. "Are those permanent?"

She pulled her gloves off and inspected her hands and arms, which had similar marks. She ran her hands over her skin.

"They might fade," she said. "They used to be everywhere… so much more distinct. I don't remember how long it took."

She lifted her hands to her face and looked up at him. "Are they—?"

He guessed at what she was asking, though she couldn't seem to finish the question. "No. They stop at your jaw. For now."

She nodded, dropping her gaze from his.

"Why did you do it?" He asked.

"You know why I left."

She made to turn away from him, but he caught her arm. "Don't turn your back on me. I won't let you shrug this off again."

She glanced down at his hand on her bicep. His fingers wrapped all the way around with ease.

"Cor—"

And he realized how tightly he was gripping her. And what had happened the last time he had grabbed her arm. He loosened his hold, then released her. The white marks left by his fingers faded to red ones.

Damn it all. What he tried to protect he only harmed. Small wonder she brushed off his concerns when she knew full well he was no good at this. He could fight daemons, imperials, and even gods for her. But when he tried to protect her from herself, he only seemed to do more harm than good.

He stepped back. She stepped forward. And again, so she could lean against his chest.

"I'm alright," she said. "I know you don't trust words, though."

"You lie."

"Habit," she said. "You've checked my scars. Now wrap your arms around me and convince yourself that I'm still in one piece."

How did she even…?

Ten years she had known him that he hadn't known her.

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her tiny body press against his chest. He squeezed her tighter, crushing her to him and bowing his head over her. She never complained. Not even when he squeezed the air out of her.

She was all in one piece. She was whole. She was alright.

He released her abruptly but caught her chin in his palm and turned her face up toward him.

"Don't you dare lie to me again, Reina. Not in this lifetime."

"I don't know if I could if I wanted to."

"Is that a lie?"

"It's a fact," she said. "You've all proven me wrong. I can't do it on my own, can I?"

"No. You can't. It's time you accepted that."

She stared up at him and tears formed in her eyes. Shit. He had done it again. He released her chin, but her eyes never went blank. She didn't curl in on herself.

"I think I need help." Just one tear escaped and streaked down her cheek. Something about the way she said it made it sound like she wasn't talking about not charging headfirst into fights.

Cor sighed and stared up at the ceiling. If he stopped making her cry, he would probably have to handle her crying a lot less.

"We've been trying to help, Reina." He looked back down at her. She was hugging herself as if she was cold even though Cartanica was boiling this time of year. No more tears fell. For now.

"I know you have. I don't know how you've all been so patient with me when I keep refusing every offer," she said.

Patient wasn't exactly a word Cor would have described himself with at any point in this whole mess. Or at any point in general.

"I thought I could handle it myself," she said.

They were almost certainly talking about more than just running into combat on her own now, but Cor never had gotten the hang of that whole talk-about-something-but-mean-something-else thing that politicians seemed to do.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know what happened in your Dream. But I do know you lived through a war, Reina. It doesn't matter if none of us remember it, because it happened for you. A few months in an active war zone will turn a boy into a man. A few years will mess his head up so bad that he feels like he's still there a decade later. But you lived through ten years of that and more.

"People keep asking what happened to the old Reina, but I'm damn impressed that you kept this much of yourself. You don't have to tell me you're not keeping it together. I know you're a mess underneath. But you're still a person and not a vegetable. You're still infuriatingly stubborn. You'd still do anything for Regis."

Cor sighed and ran his hands over his face. "What I'm trying to say is it would be unbelievable if you didn't need help after that. We all know it. Don't think anyone hasn't noticed, because we're all seeing the same thing. We're never going to stop offering because we know you're too damn stubborn to ever ask.

"So next time just say yes for once."

He was making her cry again. The opposite of what he had been aiming for. In spite of that she gave him a thin smile and nodded.

"Now go get cleaned up," he said. "And don't make me remind you of this again. You know I will."

She gave a tearful laugh and swiped at her cheeks. "I know."

She turned toward the bathroom but stopped, looking back at him.

"Cor," she said. "Thank you."