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Valdus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Guards weren’t too eager to believe the story I was telling. They have to find someone to pin the attack of the patrol on and fast. The governor is not fond of the idea of his guards being shot in the streets of his town.”

“How did you get away?”

Valdus shrugs. “It was all Numair. He came swearing to the captain that he saw me battling a fever for the past week. After that, they couldn’t hold me any longer.”

Guilt gnaws on my mind. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t offered to build a garden. “I’m sorry,” I say, each word rasping on my throat.

“It wasn’t you who punched me in the face. Even though you should have. A couple times, at least.” A small smile starts in his eyes, finding its way to his lips, but disappears when blood oozes from his reopened wound. He wipes it off with his thumb, drying the blood on a napkin. “I’ve got off easy enough. Double shifts for a week with no pay, and everything will go back to normal.”

I bite my lip, where my own healed wound is now but a sensitive scar.

“I could heal that,” I say after a while.

“That will only prove to the guards that there is something worthy of attention happening to me.”

I finish my tea and walk to put the glass next to the broken one already sitting on the counter. Valdus follows me there, wiping blood from his lip again. “Will you tell me now what Mylena has said to you?” he asks.

I lean on the counter and look at the ceiling, tugging on the tassels of the shawl even harder. Light from the candle draws swirling shadows on the ceiling with each flicker of the flame, echoing in my heart as Valdus’s arm brushes mine.

“She made it clear she has built her life here around you, and that a pretty girl from the palace who isn’t used to life being rough shouldn’t stand in her way,” I say with a shrug.

A half smile with the healthy half of his lips is his only answer.

“I remember what you’ve said. I’m not planning to interfere with whatever you two have.”

“She is certainly pretty. I’m not so sure about the rest,” Valdus mutters. His fingers are no heavier than a breath on my skin, as he attempts to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Did she find a pair of scissors lying around?”

I rub my brow, where the scar on it is a constant reminder of what happened. Valdus is yet to cast his gaze away, and I feel my skin burn. Before I burst with all the thoughts running rampant through my mind, I let the words spill out. I’m not even sure I’m coherent as I tell him about my father’s appearance in my nightmares, about the shadow of my mother making me cower even if we’re a desert apart, about Ajaia and what happened on the train.

“It sounds stupid. I know that. But I felt…maybe if I cut it off, I’d feel like a different person. That I wouldn’t feel Ajaia’s fingers in my hair any longer. That it’d help keep the nightmares away.”

“Did it?”

“Somewhat.”

Valdus squares his shoulder. “If I ever see him, I’m going to break those hands of his.”

I chuckle through tears brimming in my eyes. “I’m not sure he still has them. Bonar might have tied them too tightly.”

“At least on some things we agree.” I meet Valdus’s warm brown eyes, a question forming on my lips, but he guesses it even before I can voice it. “Bonar wants me to bring you to The Veiled Rock. He tells me he has figured everything out.”

My stay here might end up too soon, and someone else will be in control of my life again. “Please, don’t,” I mutter. “I can’t leave. I have a lot going on here…” I pause, desperately trying to find anything that would hold me back in this town. “The greenhouse,” I cry out. “I can’t leave now with all the work we’ve put into it.”

“Neylan—”

“No, listen. I know I haven’t been the best prisoner, but I’m turning out to be a good rebel, don’t you think?”

Valdus grabs my shoulders. “I’m not sending you away.”

“You aren’t?”

“Maker knows I’ve tried to push you away. To show you what a miserable life we lead.” Valdus drops his hands, closes his eyes, shakes his head. “You’ve become that breath of fresh air that comes at nightfall and makes everything easier, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to face the sands without it.”

My answer is not louder than a whisper. It’s as if I’m afraid the wind will carry my words away before I can say them. “You’ve shown me the real world, and I want to repay you and the rebellion. No matter how insignificant my help might be.”

“Don’t forget you’ve saved my life.”

I smile, shaking my head. I want to argue, keep this banter going, but Valdus mirrors my smile. The whole world brightens with it. I want to capture this moment, hold it close, but his wound reopens again, and just like that, the smile is gone.