Chapter 27: The Promise

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So, its 2:30 in the morning and I am in the middle of packing, but I had to take a break for my back and I felt this strange need to work on this scene. I got lost writing the edits and so, here you go. I am really proud of this chapter. I hope you like it. Its a sweet one.

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"Adira?" Imre blinked into the soft light and for a moment he thought his mind must be playing tricks on him. She was pale, her unusually rich olive skin drained of its vibrancy as she griped Smithers arm as a steadying force, her small feet shuffling across the floor as if lifting them were to much of a risk to take.

"Yes," she paused, giving Smithers a thankful look before stepping forward on her own. She nearly fell with the first step and her arm shot out bracing herself against the boxes that lined the walls.

"You should be resting," the words left Imre's mouth before he could think better of them.

Despite the words, he was glad she was here.

Too glad, a voice inside scolded.

Daring a glance behind Imre looked at Smithers who's mouth was set in a grim line. The older man was watching Adira walk with concerned eyes. When the older man noticed Imre's gaze he gave a look which warmed Imre that the ice they were walking was very thin.

"I had to see you," Adira said once she was close enough to be able to speak so only the two of them would hear.

Gingerly she eased herself onto the round top of the barrel that sat beside Imre's cell letting out a shaky breath that let Imre know just how much of a toll those dozen or so steps had taken on her. Still her posture was perfect, and she sat as if at afternoon tea in a royal hall.

A high lady stooping down to the bowls of a ship to steal a moment with a Canal slave, There was a bitterness to that thought which Imre shoved away.

The pull to be closer to her was too strong to resist and Imre settled down on his pallet right next to the bars so that they were only separated by the cold steel barrier and a few bare inches.

If he could trick his mind into thinking those iron rods were not there, then he could almost imagine they were just sitting across from one another. Close enough to touch. Close enough to whisper and keep words like shared breaths between them.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered offering a weak smile. "Thanks to you."

Imre felt his mouth go dry.

Simple words.

A thank you from a Tamerian was a rare thing.

"Why did you do it?" she asked looking at him and in the light her eyes looked the same shade as the storm that he had saved her from.

"You saved my life," he answered simply, though how he felt was anything but simple.

"I brought you water," she said her hand making a feeble dismissive gesture. "You dove into the sea."

"You didn't have to."

"Neither did you."

Yes I did, he thought.

Because he did have to, he had to save her.

The moment he had seen her go over there hadn't been a choice for him, only action.

Silence stretched between them and for once Imre wished that he had more words even though all speaking had ever brought on him was more pain. Words were weapons in the hands of the enemy. Words let Verek know where to cut.

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