Page 43 of The Serpent and the Silver Wolf

“I’m not insane, pet.” He let her go just enough to rest his chin in his palms, elbows on the table, and stare. “I understand.”

“No. You can’t possibly—” She began, the protest brittle.

He cut her off with an exhale. “I understand that I, and maybe everyone on this accursed world, will likely die with whatever’s coming.”

The admission fell plain between them.

“And that is cause for relief?” Her teeth clicked together.

“Not on its own.” He shook his head, then licked his lips—an almost childish flash of nerves—and shrugged, trying to hide it in motion. “But it means something else.” His voice dropped until it was nearly a whisper. “It means I won’t have to live without you.”

It was like hot coal had been dropped on her sternum. The sentence landed and then kept burning. He looked away for a beat as if the confession surprised him as much as it did her.

Then he met her eyes again. “I will die fighting by your side. Maybe doing something supposedly noble. Maybe not. But, eitherway…however it turns out, I will die before I lose you. And you won’t have to live with the pain of losing me afterwards. I’ll be forgotten.”

The table, the plates, the faint smoke in the air—all of it narrowed until only his face and his promise existed.

Her pulse thudded.

She wanted to deny him, to tell him that he wasn’t going to die. And that she would never forget him. He had burrowed so deeply into her soul, she didn’t think it would be possible. But…the Pattern willed as it would.

“Holy shit, Kaz.” Her brows drew together, hands clenching against the table.

He shrugged, sinking deeper into the chair, one arm draped across the backrest. “You caught me, Aimee. Now you’re stuck with me. Until I die and the world burns.”

Her fork scraped against the plate as she claimed the last bite, something easier than trying to form words. She chewed slowly, aware of his eyes on her the entire time.

Insane. The man was absolutely insane. And she couldn’t decide whether to smile, fling herself across the table into his arms, or run as far and fast as she could.

Liar. His mouth curved at one corner, as if he’d read the thought straight out of her head.

Swallowing, she braced—unsure what to say. A cutting remark, maybe. Or something dangerously sappy. Either way, she was smiling, knowing that the turmoil she insisted she felt was the true lie.

Before she could decide, though, a chill draft swept in, coiling around her ankles as the entrance flap fluttered open.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Mira strode inside, bright red braid swinging against her back, eyes piercing as always.

Kazuma didn’t move as Aimee looked past his shoulder.

Mira’s inspection swept the room, pausing on the empty plates as she sniffed once, brows raising just enough to suggest she thought the food smelled halfway decent.

“Time to go. Both of you.” Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Go?” Aimee echoed just as Kazuma turned, his voice overlapping hers. “Where?”

“Town meeting.” Mira’s tone gave no room for questions.

“On Five-Day?” Aimee’s brows shot up as she reached for the plates, hands itching to clear them. “I thought that was—”

“Not a place for outsiders,” Kazuma finished for her. He slipped the dishes neatly from her hands, carrying them toward the small basin in the corner.

“An exception has been made.” Mira’s teeth ground. She didn’t sound pleased about it.

Looking from Mira to Kazuma, Aimee’s pulse tripped faster as her chest tightened with anticipation—or dread.

Either way, the meal was over.

And together, they rose to follow Mira out into the mountain night.