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Summary
Through the dim fog skating across the crowds, his eyes can’t help but find yours. His compass point north even through all this blood, death and warring.
Even from afar he spies how they shake with barely restrained tears. Silver beading at your lash line. Your face as gaunt as he’s ever seen it. Sombre as a tombstone.
You’d leapt from your seat like a lightning bolt went through you, when Maekar brought down his horse with a spear. You’d cried out. Yelped his name across the mud like it was holy. Hands planted on the balustrade. Eyes wide.
As if you’d been wounded and not him.
His intended had stayed firmly in her seat.