Page 63 of In Darkness Forged

It frustrated him that he did not understand. That she seemed so calm in the face of such uncertainty.

But even though she was lost in a world full of monsters, Aislin’s lips curved in a smile—somehow sad yet still hopeful.

“Tal, I’ve lived most of the past few years at the end of my strength. Fighting for my family’s survival. Unable to find my way out of the hole we’re in. It’s not a cave, but it feels like one. And all I can tell you for sure is this: when you’re lost and cannot save yourself, that is when you realize that faith is your only answer.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand.

“I’ve trusted people at home to look after my family. Some of them, I can’t even swear are that trustworthy, yet they were all I had. But you?” She actually laughed as if her observations were comically obvious. “You have had so many opportunities to leave me behind or hurt me. And yet, every time, the first thing you’ve done is make sure that I’m safe. Your heart is bigger than you realize, and I don’t think you know the first thing about actually being cruel.”

She was wrong. He was not the saint she wanted to believe him, and hedidknow the meaning of cruelty. And whatever size his heart might be, he’d hidden it so deeply she should not have been able to find it.

“At first,” she admitted, “I trusted you because blind faith was all I had. Now? I trust you because I know that I can.”

The damnable part of it was, she wasn’t wrong. Tal wasn’t sure when it had happened, but shehadfound his heart—and now he could no more hurt her than cut off his own arm.

“And if you’re hurt anyway?” he demanded. “Because you will be. I cannot imagine what else I might say to convince you that this is going to kill us both. I cannot save you from what we’re about to do.”

He felt her shrug. “Perhaps not. But ever since my father left, I’ve been trying to do the impossible alone. If I’ve had just one wish, it was for someone to share my fears. Someone to stand shoulder to shoulder with me and face down the monsters of not knowing where our next meal is coming from, wondering whether my grandmother will fall or wander off while I’m gone, or just trying to decide whether I have enough wood to keep us from freezing during the winter. I know you won’t always be able to save me. And I’m not asking you to save me from what’s coming. Perhaps it makes me selfish, but… I’m just beyond relieved that I’m not doing it alone.”

All she wanted was not to be alone. Such a small thing, and yet, he of all people knew how fragile the illusion of such security could be.

They could be ripped apart in an instant. Separated by violence or by chance. But even if he knew he could not save her in the end, he could do this one thing—commit himself to remaining by her side until it was beyond his power and ability to do so. He’d failed at so much and expected he would fail at this as well, but his heart… It would not allow him to walk away without trying.

“Then stay close,” he murmured, and moved off into the dark, Aislin’s hand in his.

The contact was necessary, he knew, both so that he could guide her and so she would not be afraid. But her hand was warm and trusting, and Tal discovered that he did not dislike the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his. Her touch settled some part of him that needed to know she could not be snatched away without him realizing it. And yet, that very sense of need disturbed him greatly. When had he begun needing anything from her?

The moment his magic reserves were sufficiently restored, he would use his dagger as a torch so he could not grow too accustomed to her warmth. So that he would not continue to wonder at the growing strength of his desire to keep her close. Such thoughts were distracting, and he needed to focus the whole of his attention on finding their way.

* * *

The remainder of that night did not aid him in his resolve to detach himself from the human. The tunnel was rough and narrow in places, and Aislin could only follow him blindly, trying to step where he stepped, ducking around obstacles, and occasionally crawling where the ceiling would not allow them to stand upright.

Tal knew she was exhausted. That her ribs were in agony. Her hands were cut, and her knees were bruised. But still she followed him into the dark, and her hands burned where they touched him. When he grasped her arms to lift her or shift her position, he felt her muscles tremble, and yet she did not waver.

They finally reached a place where the tunnel widened and the way grew smoother, and Tal failed to warn her of a place where the rock became rough underfoot.

Aislin stumbled, and Tal cursed softly before he turned and swept her into his arms.

“I’m all right,” she protested.

“No, you are not.” He hated that she still felt the need to pretend. “And before you attempt such a ridiculous lie again, remember that I can see the blood on your hands. I can feel you wince with every step and hear how your breath catches when you forget your injuries and breathe too deeply.”

“Fine,” she admitted, “it hurts. But I won’t quit on you, Tal.”

As if that was ever in question. He wasn’t convinced she knew how. But each time she winced, it stabbed him with a different kind of pain, and he could not go on while she suffered in such determined silence.

“Your courage is not in doubt,” he said, gentling his tone. “But you will need your strength before the night is over, so allow me to spare you while I can.”

She went silent and stiff in his arms, but after a moment, her tension fled on a quiet sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Tal moved off into the darkness, and after only a few steps, her head fell to rest on his shoulder. She curled in closer, her eyes closed, her breathing evened out, and to his complete and utter surprise… she fell asleep.

In the darkness beneath the mountains, surrounded by the unknown dangers of the Darkspring, Aislin slept in his arms, and Tal could have wept at the depths of her unmerited trust in him. But he did not wish to wake her, so he only swore silently at her foolishness, and his own. Because no matter how unfounded her confidence, some part of him reached for it like a starving man begging for bread.

He even considered stopping to allow her to rest, but they were drawing nearer to the surface. He could smell the difference in the air, feel the slightest of currents stirring. And there was something else, some other smell not nearly so fresh that drifted on those currents—a metallic taint he could not quite place.

Whatever it was, it made him uneasy. He wanted to be free of the Darkspring before they stopped again, so he continued on at a steady pace until the burden grew too heavy for his arms, and he was forced to pause.