He considered it when everyone sat down to await the arrival of the others. She needed to rest, and she’d probably be more comfortable in a prone position. He even bent to lay her on the ground. But he couldn’t. His gaze settled on her face as he paced with her in his arms. Though her bruised cheeks were streaked with clay and blood, he focused on the markings around her eyes. The deep blue-green cinquefoils with red arrows running through them matched the marking on his right bicep. The markings, even more than their shared thoughts, brought home the reality of their avowing. She was his. His to protect. His to marvel over. His to love. For the first few weeks after he paired with her for her protection, he waited for her to tell him that she didn’t really love him. He waited for her to admit that her feelings were a result of their adventure together and hadn’t lasted. He even devised a plan to leave with Nyx and once again remove himself from Estilorian society. Tate couldn’t possibly love a Mercesti, he reasoned, nor did a being such as him deserve the heart of one as magnificent as her.
