Hal could feel the indecision raging within her as the days continued to pass. Far more often than she would have liked, Hal found herself turning to Selena's diary in the morning when Murtagh was out with Thorn. It was the perfect set-up, since she could hear when they returned, which gave her time to stash the item on a shelf on the second level of the library where it blended in with every other book. There was something about the woman's voice that was engrossing, haunting and yet beautifully raw. Selena, in her final days and weeks, did not shy away from her sins or mistakes. And there was something about this that called to Hal.

There were certain passages Hal didn't read. Ones that, after a few sentences, became too disturbing to read in full. Selena recounted missions where she maimed and tortured enemies of Morzan, recalling the eagerness she channeled in the hopes of impressing him. And while it was clear that she no longer felt that way, it was galling to know she had been capable of such a thing at all.

But other passages were gentler, and Hal could not help but notice that they often had some mention of Murtagh in them.

I recall with clear distinction the first time I heard Murtagh laugh. It was a jarring thing, for such innocent sounds were not something that I had come to expect within the walls that, I had realized all too late, had become my prison instead of my refuge.

It was a lovely spring day, the warmth of the sun striking the perfect balance with the cool breeze. And a moving figure out of the corner of my eyes had drawn my attention to the window of my study where I worked. There, chasing butterflies near the fountain in the garden, was Murtagh. He had already grown so fast — he would soon be two in a few months. It was rare that I caught glimpses of my son when I was home. The caregiver was under strict orders to keep him contained to certain parts of the household that purposefully kept him far from me. It was a cruel and calculated move by Morzan. One that I would never forgive him for.

To hear my son laugh for the first time through a window where he could not even see me shattered my spirit that day. If I were to accost him right now, would he even recognize me as his mother? To be estranged from my own son had taken a toll on me. But at some point, I must have convinced myself that things could be worse. That if I continued to do as Morzan asked, he would reward me by lifting some of the restrictions that kept me from my child.

Heavens. I was such a stupid girl.

But that day was different. To see him waddling with such certainty on those two small legs on the lawn made me laugh and weep. Because for the first time, I realized what all I was missing: his first smile, his first laugh, his first steps, his first words. I would leave this earth with none of those memories. I admit to even considering going through the minds of the wet nurse and other handmaidens just to see the moments for myself, even if I could not experience it.

Just as quickly as his sweet, innocent laughter rose to my window, he had sprinted around the corner, his caregiver chasing after him with desperate shouts to slow down. And I stood there, for several more minutes, pining for my child to come back so that I could see him again. I urged to join him. To study that beautiful face so that I could have a clearer memory of what he looked like. He had my eyes. It was the only thing I had to hold on to before he had been snatched away from me on the day of his birth. But I craved more than that. How much of myself could I see in him today?

How much of his father?

The moment Hal saw any whiff of a comparison to Morzan where Murtagh was involved, she could not bring herself to keep reading. As mad as it may seem, Hal felt as if the diary were fine to read so long as it did not unveil any tangible truths that Hal had to confront Murtagh with. It was cowardly, but it was the only way she could manage it. She was now too invested to stop reading altogether. Because between the lines of Selena's recalled memories of violence and crime, was a woman with grief, loss, and regret.

Hal could not help but feel connected to Selena in that way. For while their paths were different, the feelings were all the same. But the only difference was that Hal did not want to reach the end of her life and still feel this way. Hal did not want a diary filled with her mistakes and regrets.

She glanced around the library, visions filling her head once more. Reading Selena's diary, Hal had a better idea of how the servants or maids would move about the estate, cleaning, carrying food, and memos. She was getting better about picturing them. She had no idea where they would find staff wanting to work for the son of Morzan and former aid to Galbatorix, and a demi-Shade. But those were details she didn't bother with. Instead, she focused on running a happier household, one where she knew everyone's names, and they smiled when they greeted her or Murtagh. They would bring her tea in the library because she was caught up in one of her books again. The cooks would let her taste the sauce for the evening meal — or perhaps even help cook on occasion. Hal couldn't see herself forgoing such chores entirely. She did enjoy them on some level. She liked taking care of those she loved.

The fireplaces would always be lit in the winter, and the rooms would bathe in the sunlight during the spring. And when their children laughed or took their first steps, she would be right there to witness every moment —

In a moment of dramatic shock, Hal felt her heart stop with a sudden, rather embarrassing, realization, the diary falling from her fingers, as though fleeing after accomplishing its unexpected task. Hal felt her throat constrict as her vision shifted again. It was not just any laughter Hal wanted to hear echo through these halls someday. It was childlike. It was a child with features of both her and Murtagh.

Hal knew the potential she saw in the manor. She saw the potential to fill it with a family. Her and Murtagh's. Struck by such a bittersweet epiphany, she fell to the ground and began to cry. Because even in the wake of all she had lost in her past, she hated herself for still daring to dream of a future.

…

The next morning, Hal stood in front of the library window, her arms folded across her chest as she observed her first ever snowfall. There was something beautiful and sad at the sight of it. It reminded her of the sands of Illium, as it drifted to the ground, inches having already begun to build overnight while they had slept. But the way it coated the ground and the tree branches, the stone walls and the rooftops felt like real magic. Like a blanket had fallen over the forest, shrouding it in a heavy silence Hal had never felt or heard before. It was as if the world had come to a complete standstill.

By the time Murtagh returned from his and Thorn's hunt, a sullen mood had fallen over Hal that took him a few moments to notice. "Heavens," he exclaimed, having done his best to stomp and shake the snow off his persons before coming inside. "I forgot how damn miserable snow is. One year of almost perfect-weather on Illium and I'm completely spoiled."

Hal chuckled softly, but her smile soon faded. She would have to do this fast. Any hesitation and she might never muster the courage.

"Murtagh." He looked up at her and noticed her less than pleasant expression. Frowning, he opened his mouth to speak when Hal said quickly and in one breath: "I think we should move forward with Invidia's plan."

Murtagh looked at her for a moment, as if he hadn't heard her. Then, his expression became incredulous and confused. Then he began to smile, as if expecting her to tell him she was just teasing. But he could soon tell by her expression that no such thing was coming and he began to frown. Hal had tried poring over as many options as she could think since her revelation yesterday but had come up with nothing. She did not know these lands or the people. But she trusted Invidia, and Invidia was the only one who had attempted to come up with a semblance of a plan. Although, maybe she should've waited to give him a moment before completely blindsiding him. "Halen, you can't be serious."

Her full name. Not a good sign. She swallowed thickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Her plan is an absolute last resort."

"It's been weeks since we've left home, rider. Months, even."

"I'm aware."

Hal stared at him, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at his clueless expression. "And we have done nothing except clean up this estate! I admit that that has certainly been better than the alternative, but the truth remains that Thea is still out there. Our safety here could be compromised at any moment. We should be doing something at least. Do you have any other ideas better than hers? Because I will gladly hear it."

"Yes."

Her brows went up with hopeful surprise at his quick response. "Really? Like what?"

"Anything that's the opposite of her plan."

Hal folded her arms across her chest, irritation rising. "So, continuing to sit on our asses and hope Thea doesn't strike first?"

"And so far, we are succeeding. Excellent work everyone!" Murtagh cynically bowed his head to Hal. He clapped his hands together, then rubbed them with frustration, his jaw tight. "Next topic of conversation."

"Murtagh —"

"It's not up for discussion," he snapped. The silence that followed was tense, and Hal tightened her jaw against her instinct to snap back.

"Invidia is convinced it could help," she said between clenched teeth. "And her logic was sound."

"Invidia is asking me to risk my life and Thorn's on a could." His eyes flashed with hurt. "And so are you."

"Don't you dare accuse me of something so heartless," she hissed. "Do you honestly think I would even consider it if I thought it would genuinely put you and Thorn in danger? Do you think I'm that selfish?"

"No, I think you are naïve," he said sharply. The word made her skin bristle in indignation, and she reared back as though slapped as he began to pace the room in anger. "It is not just our life at stake, it is yours. We are talking hundreds upon hundreds of armed and trained guards. Guards who have seen my face in battle, who have seared it into their memories, and will likely kill me on sight. That is nothing compared to what they would do to you if they discover you are part Shade —"

"Then we don't tell them —"

Murtagh curled his fingers into fist, laughing maniacally. "Yes, that would be smart. Except for the fact that they will search your mind. They will comb through every last memory and when they find out what was done to you, they will seek to have you killed. Assuming they don't decide to use you for their own gain."

"You have a pretty high regard for Nasuada's ruling," she retorted bitterly.

"Just because I once trusted her judgement, does not mean I trust the people she has surrounded herself with. And just because I once trusted her judgement, does not mean she would trust me, or you. It does not mean we would be believed."

"How could they think we are lying? We have proof, if they search my mind they'll see it for themselves!"

Murtagh was suddenly standing in front of her, and he took her face in his hands with a sense of urgency as he held her gaze. "They. Don't. Care." Hal was unsure why, but she felt her throat constrict at the hardness in his eyes. Gone already was his peace of mind, his easy smiles. Gone was the comfort and security they had built for themselves these past few weeks. "Get that through your head now, Halen. They will not care about your proof. They will not care about your innocence or what you have lost. They will not listen to reason. For the moment they learn of your existence, they will kill you on sight. They will kill me. And they will kill Thorn."

"Then all is lost?" she asked, her question rhetorical. Murtagh groaned in frustration as he turned away from her with his hands on his hips. "Since we are doomed to fail before we even try, we just sit here instead? Even though Thea could be out there right now murdering more innocents —?"

"BETTER THEM THAN YOU!" he roared, spinning around to face her. His voice echoed through the empty halls, like thunder shattering a still night. And with his words, Hal felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room as she realized, ever so suddenly, what had been so very plain all along.

I just need you to be safe. So long as this place does just that, then I will be content.

But all of that is nothing compared to the fear I feel at the thought of losing you. And it scares me Hal. And more than my grief, I feel crippled by this fear. This helplessness…

Murtagh looked to regret what he had said almost immediately. He struggled to meet her gaze. "I-I didn't mean that."

Hal didn't respond at first, his emotions finally laid bare for her to truly understand. She felt so blind for not seeing them sooner. No, that wasn't true. She had seen them, but she had chosen to ignore them. Because she had felt the same way. Denu's death had left both of them shaken, and neither was willing to risk the other. But at what cost? They couldn't continue to play house and let those who had died have done so in vain. And more than that, Hal wanted her future. She wanted to be free of the violence and misery and pain that had ruled her entire childhood. She wanted the light and the peace she felt with Murtagh. She deserved it.

They both did.

"Is that your plan, then? You will hide me behind these walls until we die of old age or Thea burns the world to the ground?" Silence. "Surely, you must know that that is no way to live." Still, he said nothing. "Murtagh, please, answer me." But even as she reached for him, he turned away, and she could feel his shame rolling off him. His anger. Once again, he was pulling away from her. "Please just look at me."

Murtagh turned his back to her once more. "I don't want to talk about this right now," he grumbled.

"I don't care. We're talking. Stop walking away from me!"

Hal ran to stand in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "There's nothing to discuss, Halen. Just leave me alone."

"No."

"Move."

"Make me."

Murtagh pointed a finger in her face, then swore before turning on his heel and walking back in the opposite direction. Hal thought she would have to chase after him again, but he stopped, his hands running through his hair before interlocking on the back of his head. He was tense. Her eyes could see the stiffness in every stretch of muscle through his clothing, from his neck to his feet.

"How can you look at me like that?" he asked suddenly, his voice hoarse.

She frowned. "Look at you like what?"

He laughed darkly, but when he turned around, Hal could see the twisted pain in his eyes. "The way you always do. With so much…love and compassion in your eyes. Like I didn't just condemn innocent people to death. Like you didn't fall in love with a coward."

Hal blinked back tears. "That's not true."

"Don't lie to me, Halen. We don't lie to each other."

"I'm not lying to you. I'm disappointed, yes. Frightened, obviously, as are you. But you have never been a coward. Not to me."

Murtagh was quiet, staring at the ground as if he was unable to accept the truth of her words. Hal licked her lips nervously, waiting impatiently to see if he would respond. When none came, she sighed quietly. "I'm disappointed because you don't seem willing to try something. Anything. It doesn't have to be Invidia's plan, but you can't deny that we need a plan, and desperately. I don't know what to do," she admitted in a low voice, feeling crestfallen at her own helplessness. "I don't...I don't even know if I can help. And we need help, Murtagh. We need allies and resources. From where I'm standing, Nasuada is our best hope. And to get to her we need to —"

"I'm going for a walk."

He took off without a second look back. Without even bothering with the layers he had just taken off as he stormed back outside. Hal stared at his retreating figure in a stony silence until it disappeared completely in the snowfall. Hours passed, and eventually, she found a comfortable spot around the fire, her body sinking into the floor. Murtagh did not return until sunset, and Hal did not move until he did.

…

Hal could see no way out of their predicament. Murtagh wouldn't so much as look at her, let alone speak. She had not felt this level of anger from him since they had first met. He slept apart from her now, rising before she did every morning, taking his things and leaving the estate, wandering gods knows where until the last possible hour, trudging in shivering and numb just after dark, but refusing to let Hal help him warm up. If she tried to talk to him, his answers, if he responded, were clipped. It wasn't long before Hal gave up on all manner of conversation entirely.

On the one morning she was the first to rise, Hal didn't bother waking Murtagh. Instead, she got to her feet, pulled on her boots, grabbed her blanket and left. She wished Nani were here with her. If there was anything Hal needed after Denu, it was her horse. Gods, a ride would do wonders for her mind right now.

She pulled her blanket tight over her shoulders, wandering aimlessly, arms crossed so that she could fold the material as far over her as possible, hiding even her hands from the cold. Every breath was punctuated by her own puff of air, a sharp burst of wind cutting through her flimsy attempts at keeping warm. Even what few extra undergarments they had found left behind by some of the maid's wasn't enough, and she regretted to soon learn that her boots were in no way meant for snow, which began to melt and slush through the thinner materials, soaking her socks and feet. Yet, she stubbornly continued to walk, not wanting to turn back after a mere couple of minutes.

Guilt was eating at her, back in full form with her and Murtagh not on speaking terms. She longed to tell him that the only reason she was even suggesting this was because she couldn't shake the images out of her head. The ones of her vision for the estate, and the life that seemed to brim from its edges when she focused. She knew she was meant to be by Murtagh's side in all things. She also knew that she could not achieve these hopes and wishes if she did nothing.

But she was also very afraid. The last decision she had made, even with the best of intentions, had backfired horribly, leaving her and the people she loved exposed to the worst kind of trauma. She had been turned against her will, her village attacked, and dozens murdered.

Denu among them.

She was not a warrior or a leader. She didn't want to be making decisions where other lives hung in the balance. Yet she couldn't afford to do nothing either. The risks existed regardless. She would just have to dare to hope that her wishes for the future proved stronger than her fears.

Going somewhere, Halen from Nowhere?

She froze mid-step, her eyes widening in disbelief as Denu grinned at her from up ahead. He was dressed in his usual robes, seemingly unbothered by the cold. And he looked so healthy and whole that she felt tears at the unfairness and cruelty of her own mind.

"No place you can follow, Old Man."

But even as she tried to walk past him, he followed after her. You sound tired, Halen. Tell me, what's the matter?

You are dead! She wanted to scream. Not breaking her stride, she responded, "I'm fine."

You have always been an awful liar, Halen.

"And you're not real!" she snapped, spinning around to face him. But there's no one there. Because why would there be? She was as alone as ever. "Denu?" she called out frightfully, unsure as to why she expected him to answer. Yet there was nothing but the wind whistling through the dead branches, eerily rattling them.

She dropped to her knees. So now she must lose him again? She can barely speak over her choked sobs, begging softly, "Please don't go. Don't leave me. I can't do this without you."

She felt hands on her cheeks, and her head was raised to meet Denu's warm, unseeing eyes. "Oh, my sweet child," he said, his voice ringing out clear and true. Hal could almost feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin. "I am with you, always. You are not alone."

"I don't know what to do," she pressed, desperation making her voice waver. "About anything. Murtagh will not talk to me, I am as far from home as I could possibly be, and my sister —" Words fail her as her tears burn hot. "I have not managed to save anyone I care about," she whispered, lifting her gaze. "Including you. And I'm so sorry, Denu. I am so very sorry."

His gaze grew heavy at her distress as he wiped at her tears, a futile endeavor, as she couldn't stop crying now. "You are not beholden to others, my Halen," he reminded her. "Not even to Murtagh, as much as you love him. And not to me, either."

"I owe you my life. I owe Murtagh my life. How can you say —?"

"What we choose to do for others, should always be done out of a sense of love and respect, Halen. Never obligation. We do what we feel is best, but we cannot carry one's burdens for them. I had to learn that the hard way with you, just as you are learning with Murtagh."

"I just want to help him like you helped me. I want to save Thea not take the life she never got the right to live. I want to go home. I want you to be there waiting for me when I return. And all of those things seem like a fool's dream."

He sighed. "You have a hard, long road ahead of you, Halen. I will not lie to you about that." He moved to take her hands in his, squeezing tightly. "But if any of what you have said you wanted is worth fighting for, worth putting every last breath you have into making sure they come to fruition, then I think you already know what you must do."

"But what if I'm not strong enough on my own? What if I fail and lose more than I already have? Maybe Murtagh's right. Maybe this is too dangerous. There must be another way."

Denu gave her a sad smile. "Nothing good in this world comes without fighting for it, Halen. So, remember to fight. You fight until you win. But if you do not fight, you will undoubtedly lose. And you will always wonder if there was something more you could have done. But it is your choice, Halen, and yours alone. So, choose."

…

By the time Hal walked through the front door of Morzan's — no, Murtagh's — estate, a shockingly calm resolution had fallen over her. Or maybe she was just so numb from the cold that she could not feel anything anymore. That would not surprise her either.

Relieved to be out of the elements, she quietly flexed her fingers to get the blood moving again. Murtagh hardly looked up from his spot in the chair, hunched forward as he gazed straight ahead at the fire. Hal moved to stand before him, forcing calm into her voice.

"I cannot force your hand, Murtagh," she told him. "But I cannot sit by and do nothing. I've lost too much. I've seen too much to go back to that life. Back to that emptiness of wondering what I could have done differently to save the people I loved most."

He didn't respond, and Hal took a small step forward. "A year ago, you agreed to teach me how to fight. And now that the time has come for me to use what you've taught me, I'm wandering around the forest talking to ghosts and arguing with a man who won't even look at me anymore."

Murtagh's eyes were despondent, his jaw tightening considerably. And yet, he still didn't speak. But he was very clearly listening. Hal swallowed her disappointment and said what she came here to say. "I will be leaving for Ilirea in the morning, regardless of whether or not you will accompany me." His gaze finally snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide with surprise at her declaration, but Hal did not waver in her decision. "I might be naïve, and it might be a lost cause, but you were the one who taught me that I could stand on my own two feet after the world had knocked me flat on my ass. Denu gave me hope, but you gave me life, Murtagh. And I cannot squander it. Not even for you."

Hal turned on her heel, leaving the library and heading towards the stairs so that she could run herself a hot bath. And despite feeling Murtagh's gaze on her back as she made a hasty retreat, she did not dare look back.

…

…You gave me life, Murtagh. And, I cannot squander it. Not even for you.

Tears of shame burned his eyes as he fought the urge to cry, his back to Hal as she slept. Her words from earlier had been a horrifying blow, and a shocking moment of realization at the difference between the two of them. Any hope he'd had of one day hoping to stand by her side a better man than he had been before had been squashed by his own cowardice. How ashamed Hal must be of him.

Hal moved behind him and he grew stiff, not wanting to wake her. He did not know where she got her strength, but it was not from him, regardless of what she said. All he wanted was to keep her safe, any means necessary. And after witnessing Thea's brutality, after watching Hal die again, he could not bear the thought of her going off to fight on her own. Forget Thea. He could not bear the thought of losing Hal. He felt guilty for letting her down, but the thought of getting her any more involved in this mess frightened him more.

Hal moved again, and he knew then she was awake. Unless she was having a nightmare, she was a very still sleeper. The knowledge that she was awake made him tense, because if he knew she was up, then she most certainly knew he was as well. He felt like he should say something, but spinelessness made his throat tighten.

"I must apologize to you, Murtagh," she said in a low voice. She was crying. It frightened him how quietly she could cry, years spent hiding her pain from others. He could hear it in the way her voice wavered ever so slightly. "I lied, when you asked me if I saw the potential of this place. I lied when I said I hadn't. I've been untangling my feelings about this estate from the moment you commented about my books in the library."

He could hear the smallest of smiles in her voice and he squeezed his eyes shut as a new wave of tears threatened to overwhelm him. He shuddered to control his emotions, taking a shuddering breath even though there was little point hiding it from Hal now. But he had no right to cry. Not after what he had said and done.

"I could see it, rider. I could see it all. I didn't think about the Ra'zac or the Shade. I just saw you. I saw the weeks and months it would take to get this place up and running, making it ours. I saw our friends visiting us from Illium. We could trick them into coming during the winter so they could be miserable with us." He hated himself for the unexpected bark of laughter, but he could feel her shaking and knew she was laughing as well. "I was so eager to get started on that life as soon as possible, because I knew we deserved it. Because I wanted it."

He bit down hard on his lips as her words showed a life he had wanted as well. One that allowed him to wake up to the sight of Hal every morning, and to see her face before he went to bed at night, without being in constant fear for her safety. He wanted to enjoy her fully and completely, like she deserved. Like he had begun to do so here, the last few weeks.

He quickly wiped his eyes when she rolled towards him, embracing him from behind as she pressed her forehead against his back. He curled into a tighter ball, his shame hot and heavy as it rolled through him, his hands gripping Hal to tether her to him, even though he did not deserve her comforts.

"I still want that life for us, rider. I want to see that big, beautiful smile of yours again one day. If you are crying, I want it to be because you're laughing so hard. I want you to have the life you've missed out on for so long. But we will not have that if we sit here on our hands. I can't bear it, Murtagh. I can't bear to see you like this. And you will only feel worse the longer you are idle. We both will."

He took a shuddering breath as she hugged him tighter, her body warm and soft against his hard back. "You died on Uden," he sputtered out through quivering lips. "You were dead and I was so…I can't go through that again. I am not strong enough."

"You are," she said, her voice still gentle and wholly assured, as though she were simply stating a fact, like the sky is blue and water is wet. But there was so much love and confidence in him in two little words that Murtagh felt even more ashamed. "Do you want to know how I know?"

Something, curiosity perhaps, made him roll over to face her. Hal moved closer, pressing her forehead to his. Murtagh took several slow breaths, sniffing. "How do you know?" His voice broke, still unsteady from efforts not to cry.

"Because you have always fought for what you cared about. First it was yourself, then Thorn, then Nasuada, and now me and the Tenari. You have overcome and survived, and you are stronger every day for it. Even when things got bad, you persevered where others would have faltered. I know you're scared, rider. So am I. I am terrified at the thought of losing you or Thorn or anyone else I love. But I still see it, our future together. I see you, and me, and…" she suddenly struggled with her words, her voice catching before she finished with, "I still see it."

They were clinging to each other so tightly, Murtagh could not tell where he ended and she began. She breathed, and continued, her voice stronger. "I will fight as many Ra'zac, or Shades, for you," she continued, her voice stronger. Murtagh studied her carefully, stunned by the resolution in her eyes. "I'm scared too. There are hundreds of ways this could go wrong. But as long as I see that bright, shining, beautiful future where you and I are together, I will risk it all for that one chance everything will go right. And I know that if we do this together, we cannot fail. You have never let me down, and now it's my turn to do the same for you."

He sniffed again, shaking his head, stunned and moved by her words. He dug his fingers through her hair, studying his own reflection in her eyes. After several long moments, he finally gathered his thoughts long enough to speak. "What I would have to ask you to do —"

"I know."

"Hal, I know this isn't what you want."

"You are what I want, Murtagh. My cooperation is not an issue. I want you to be comfortable with this. You and Thorn. If we all agree that this is our best option, then I will do anything I can to see it through."

"And you're sure of this?"

"Absolutely."

Murtagh breathed, feeling a strange sense of calm from her own determination. It made him happy though, to see that fire in her eyes. The fight. To know that it was for him and their future made it even more beautiful to behold.

"Why?" he asked, without thinking. "Why me?"

Hal's expression softened as she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. His grip on her hair tightened as she gently guided him onto his back. Her touch felt like something out of a dream, her body melding into his, pressed together in places that made his head spin. She did not hold back as he did, unsure and uneasy. Her resolution, her kiss, and her touch were sharp and focused, confident. He knew it was intentional. For how could he doubt her when her very touch threatened to ease every reservation and fear he had?

As she pulled away, she smiled again. "Because you see me," she told him. "You don't just love what makes me, me, you respect it, which makes me feel stronger. More capable. I like who I am when I'm with you. Like I'm a better version of myself."

"You did not need me for any of that."

"I was stagnant until I met you," she corrected gently. "Yes, there are things I could do on my own. And yes, I was fortunate to hold myself in a higher regard than many women who might be in my position. But before you came along, I thought that was it. I did not think there was more to learn about the world or myself. You proved me wrong. No one should stay the same for as long as I had. You breathed this new life into me, gave me a second wind when I needed it most. With you, things just make sense. And even if they don't, I'm not afraid like I was when I was on my own. I thought I would be, but you make me feel safe and you make me feel strong. And that is only a fraction of why I love you."

He leaned forward, this time taking the initiative upon himself as he kissed her, Hal's mouth hot and eager. "A fraction?" he asked, breathless.

She smiled coyly. "Also, your hands," she said, as if it was an afterthought.

He raised a brow in surprise. "My hands?"

She nodded. "And your lips."

"What else?"

"Your smile." She kissed him once. "Your laugh." She kissed him again. "Your arms."

"You only love me for my body."

She nodded enthusiastically, bursting into laughter as he rolled them over, pinning her underneath him. As he kissed her again, she mumbled, "You have a really nice body, rider."

He smiled against her lips, reveling in such a brief exchange of teasing. It felt so normal and lighthearted. Familiar and natural. He realized how much he missed it, and how much of the past few months had been mere pretense to avoid a deeper truth. Her words were buzzing in his ear, drifting through his mind with glowing pride: respect, strength, safety. He had not expected such a response. Yet Hal always knew what to say and what he needed to hear. He never doubted her, even when he doubted himself. And he wanted this, for as long as possible. He wanted to hold on to it as tightly as he could for as long as he could. He knew and understood, then, that it would never happen if they stayed here forever.

"I want to fight too," he told her. "I want to fight so that we can go home and live a life together that we both deserve."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

At the look in her eyes, his expression stumbled a bit in shame. "I'm sorry. Hal, I'm so sorry for everything I've said to you, the way I've treated you. I've been such a cowardly ass. And I took it out on you. I'm so embarrassed by the way I acted. I did not think I was capable of such selfishness anymore."

She shook her head. "You were only doing what you thought was best for me. We are both still learning and growing, and part of that process is making mistakes. But when I was running away from my fears, you stayed by side, even though we were strangers to each other. Now it is my turn to return the favor. Because I would do anything for you, Murtagh. Never forget that."

"I won't," he promised. He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "You're amazing, you know."

"I know." They shared a smile. "But so are you, rider. And that is why I love you."

Murtagh kissed her again, her words lighting a fire in him. He knew they would talk in further detail in the morning. But for now, they forgot about the world, forgot about their problems. They just lay there, tangled in each other until neither could tell where Murtagh began and Hal ended. And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.