In order to save the world from eternal night, Red must find a way to unlock the dormant power of the Sun Goddess running through her veins without killing herself and everyone she loves.
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Sebastian's eyes almost rolled into the back of his head as his shin-bone popped back into place. The squelchy sound made my toes clench in my boots — not in a good way.
The elegant arch of his throat went taut as Sebastian clenched his jaw against the pain, refusing to make a noise. Bloodied clothes aside, I wouldn't have been able to tell anything was wrong if it wasn't for those minor cues; he was evidently used to keeping quiet, probably to prevent predators from honing in on his location while he was in a vulnerable state.
I worked as quickly as I could, strapping the splint to his leg with the cloth torn from his shirt. As his breathing steadied and he looked more intently at my face, it became more difficult to ignore the bare skin of his chest. I wanted to trail my fingers along every scar and ask how he got them, but I forced myself to sit back, clasping my hands in my lap.
"On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to go and find a quiet place to lick your wounds?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Sebastian snorted. "Stereotyping me?"
"No, the person behind you."
He actually glanced over his shoulder. I snickered.
Sebastian rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Eleven," he said, easing up into a sitting position. His broken leg stretched awkwardly between us. "I find it hard to admit vulnerability. It used to be a death sentence growing up."
"I'm sorry," I said, rubbing his knee in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture. "My experience doesn't exactly compare, but I know some of what you mean. I tend to push people away before they can hurt me, too."
He looked away, as if ashamed all of a sudden. The air was heavy with all the things we needed to say but couldn't find the words for. Thick, grey smog darkened the sky, heralding a storm to come.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, gesturing at his leg.
"Itchy." That was good — it meant the wound was already on the mend. "What about you? How are you feeling after... all that?"
"Stupid," I muttered. "I just wanted to help, but I keep getting in everyone's way. I'm honestly starting to think that Rya should have chosen someone else."
"Is that why you jumped?" he asked, the pitch of his voice jumping with alarm. "Are you trying to reset the game?"
"I don't have a death wish," I said hotly. "I'm not trying to get out of my responsibilities, I'm trying to get on with them."
"Yeah, but there's better ways to go about it. Safer ways."
"You're always risking your life for me," I pointed out. "Why shouldn't I do the same?"
His expression hardened. "That's not the same thing."
"It is!"
"Red, it's not your place to risk your life for us," he stressed. "You're the important one. It's our job to keep you safe, not the other way around."
