Page 35 of Invocation

His hand stopped in midair. She looked down to avoid his hurt expression.

“I must have misunderstood things,” he said, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable. He turned away from her. “Maybe the things we’ve been doing mean something different to Ardanians than they do to Varai.”

“Aruna…”

“First I thought you were merely giving me what you thought I wanted because you were trying to escape. Then, when you kissed me at the Ardanian camp, I thought you might have had feelings for me. And then when you put that sword in yourself—”

His tongue was quicker without the barrier of the notebook between them. She could tell that if he’d had too much time to think about it, he wouldn’t have said any of this. He turned to look over his shoulder at her.

“But I suppose you came to your senses after that,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he muttered.

“I think I do,” she said with a rueful smile. “You’re an outcast among your people. You’ve had to hurt your friends and family. Everything has gone terribly for you since you met me. I must have had something to do with that, don’t you think?”

“No. Your captain had something to do with it. My leaders and my friends had something to do with it. But you? No. You’re the only part of this I don’t regret. If I could go back and change things, the only thing I’d do differently is not take so long to realize it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. You’re better than anyone I know.”

She put her head in her hands. “All I’ve done since we met is make life harder for you. We’re only going to keep hurting each other. We weren’t meant to be a part of each other’s worlds.”

“Is that what you think?” He leaned back on his heels. “Is that all that’s stopping you?”

“Is that all?” Novikke repeated with a tired laugh. “That’s no small thing, Aruna.”

“It is to me.” His stiff shoulders dropped, as if in surrender. “I love you. Next to that, everything else is small.”

Novikke stared at him, disbelieving.

“Don’t say that,” she said breathlessly.

He looked affronted. “Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

He set his jaw in defiance. “I love you,” he said again.

“You can’t.”

A number of conflicting emotions played out on his face. Eventually he laughed. “Why not?”

The laugh cracked through whatever resistance she’d had left. She took hold of the front of his shirt, pulled him toward her, and kissed him.

He raked his hands through her hair and then pulled her closer, like he was afraid she might change her mind and back away again.

“I love hearing you laugh,” she said against his cheek. “Why don’t you do it more often?”

“I would if I had reason to more often.”

She pulled away to meet his eyes, knowing that this time, there would be no going back. “We’re doomed.”

“I know,” he said, and kissed her again.

He pushed her backward toward the bed. She sank into it, and he climbed in on top of her. The blood rushed from her head.

“I still feel a little weak,” she said.

He pulled back a little, disappointed. “Do you want to rest?”

No, she definitely didn’t want that. “Uh… no, I just think I might faint if I exert myself too much.”

“Then let me exert myself, instead,” he said, loosening the ties on her pants.

For once, there was no barrier of reluctance and fear between them. She touched him without thinking about how he couldn’t have cared for her the way she did him, or how she was hurting him by remaining near him, or how it might be their last time doing this. Finally, she had no guilt or doubt in her heart, because love had crowded them out.

They were still doomed. But at least they were doomed together.

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