We walked fast and silently to the park, with Alaric by my side. The fountain sprayed in the sunlight, sharp and cold. Every drop felt like a reminder.
“Sit,” he said, his voice rough. He pressed a folded handkerchief to my neck, a soft linen.
I caught the tiny initials stitched in one corner: A.S. He guided me to the bench, careful, and steady, like I might fall apart if he wasn’t holding me up.
Blood dotted the white handkerchief.
I let out a shaky laugh.
“You actually carry handkerchiefs?”
He gave a small, tired smile. “Old habit.” Then he crouched down, his eyes meeting mine. “Let me see.”
His thumb grazed the smear of blood at my collarbone. “You will scar,” he said softly.
“Adds character ,” I tried to joke, but it fell flat.
A ghost smile tugged at his mouth, but didn’t r
