“I’m sorry, Remy,” Fenrin said through pale, bloodless lips.
“Sorry for what?” Remy asked, adjusting the pillow behind his head.
Fenrin looked up to the ceiling with half-glazed eyes, “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you.”
“Fen . . .” Remy couldn’t hide the torture in her voice.
Part of her had always known he loved her as more than friends. He never pushed or cajoled her into anything, but she knew he had hoped. It was no wonder he got worked up into a rage any time a man paid her any attention. It was no wonder he ran off to tell Heather every time Remy had flirted with someone. They talked so often about their future lives, about the grand adventures they would one day go on in a world where red witches weren’t hunted and she didn’t have to hide. They had always been in that daydream of a future together. A sad and nasty feeling twisted itself in Remy’s gut at that admission, that her best friend thought he was not enough for her. He probably thought that she needed a life and a partner grander than he could ever be, someone like a prince. She felt the bitter taste of Fenrin’s disappointment.
He knew how his words pained her, but he waved them off, his hand sitting on Remy’s arm.
“Go have an adventure for me.” His laugh came out more as a wheeze and sent him into a coughing fit. Remy patted his back in hard blows to help dislodge whatever was rattling around inside his chest.
Hale returned with Carys behind him. “Your minute is up. Let’s move.”
Carys grabbed the bags scattered around the room, while Heather grabbed her bottles off the bedside. Hale moved to lift Fenrin from the bed.
“I can walk.” Protesting with all his energy, Fenrin sat up.
“No, you can’t.” Hale scooped Fenrin into his arms.
Even though Fenrin was well over six feet tall, Hale dwarfed him in muscle. Hale picked Fenrin up as if he were a feather, and they hastened out of the room. Now that they had the High Mountain talisman, they needed to flee Ruttmore.