Page 47 of The King has Fallen

He sighed heavily again and leaned back against the cage.

My heart squeezed. I could disarm him in a blink from here, but I wouldn’t. It just reminded me that—

“Did you mean it when you said you weren’t my enemy?” he asked quietly, not turning his head to look at me. His head was dropping, his chin low, as he stroked the etched metal of his father’s spear in his lap.

“Yes,” I said simply. “I meant every word.”

He did turn his head to meet my eyes over his shoulder then. “Will you give me your word that you won’t steal my father’s spear because if he lost that it would… it would be bad.”

I inhaled sharply. “Gall… I will never take another weapon from you, unless I need it in defense of my own life—and even then, I will return it when I’m done. You have my word.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Then he turned away again and looked down at the spear. And his posture was so full of grief and frustration—exactly the way I had seen my sister hunch when the world hurt her—that I wanted to weep.

“Gall—”

“I’m your guard. I don’t think we’re supposed to talk,” he muttered.

I sighed. “Well, I understand. But if you ever want to talk, I will listen, okay?”

He nodded again, but didn’t look at me.

The minutes that followed were some of the worst since I’d stepped foot in this camp. I was washed with grief, missing my sister, my family, but frustrated and sad for Gall too. And for the men around us who didn’t understand what he needed and were trying to force him into this mold in which he did not fit.

But even as I began to rant in my head, planning all the ways I would curse Melek for not truly comforting the boy, and for putting him in his position, Gall only sagged more.

Jann still hadn’t returned.

The first time I heard Gall’s breath catch my own tears spilled over my lashes.

I took a step towards him, stopped myself, then cursed and hurried to where he sat with his back against the bars of my prison.

If it were my sister, I would verbalize her feelings for her—make the whole situation less confusing. But I didn’t know if Gall would be wounded by the admission. Yet, Ineededto help him.

With a sigh, I knelt, leaned into the cold steel letting my knees press against his broad back, and reached between the bars to wrap one hand over his head and slide the other down his chest. I couldn’t fit my head through the gap, but I could rest my forehead on his hair.

There wasn’t even thebeginningof a warrior’s length growing at the back of Gall’s head, I realized. Which meant he hadn’t yet made his first kill, so his fellows didn’t measure him as a true soldier.

My heart broke all over again, and when he tensed at my touch, whipping his hands down to brace on the ground as if he’d stand, I only hugged him harder.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Gall,” I whispered. “I’m sad too. We can be sad together.”

He froze.

Then he sighed.

I held him, breathing into his short hair and holding him as I would my sister if we were in this position.

And after a moment, he relaxed.

And then he lifted his hands to hold my arm that was clutching his chest.

I felt his chest hitch and closed my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks. “You are a good man. If they can’t see that, that’s becausetheyare wrong,” I whispered fiercely. “One day I will introduce you to my sister. She would understand your heart, Gall.”

“Women don’t like me,” he muttered.

“She would,” I insisted, cursing whatever women had refused to look beyond his Nephilimnessto his gentle heart. “Her name is Istral, and if I cannot introduce you, when I next see her, I will tell her about you, Gall.”

---