My hands were shaking when the last memory dissolved, and I was back in the kitchen, sitting across from Kael.
I was still sitting at the kitchen table, the same one that smelled faintly of bread and cedar and something warm that felt like home, and I couldn’t seem to let go of Kael’s hand. My fingers were curled around his like they were the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Because I didn’t trust my legs to hold me.
Because I didn’t trust my heart not to shatter all over the kitchen floor.
I had watched his memories.
No—
I had lived through them.
With Varion, it had been like standing behind glass. I had seen his past as an observer, like someone leafing through another person’s book, watching scenes unfold without ever fully stepping inside them. I had understood his pain, yes—
