“That does not mean it never will.”

Before going to the prison, he had stashed blankets and a pillow in the corner. He picked them up and offered them to her.

“Thank you,” she said, gripping the cloth as if her life were at stake. “Please, how can I repay you?”

He shook his head. “We are kindred, Tessanna. We both sense it.”

“But I want to thank you,” she said. She put the blankets down and stepped closer. “Don’t you want me to thank you?”

She reached for the sash around his waist. He grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Thanking you,” she said. Her voice was so soft, so child-like, it hurt him. “Please. It’ll be okay.”

Her other hand slid through the tight cloth. She felt his knee, caressed it with the back of her fingers, and then slid her hand higher.

“Enough!” he shouted, shoving her away. She fell, and the look of pain on her face would haunt his dreams for nights to come. Curled up on her knees, she looked at him, tears in her eyes. His breath was heavy, and he did his best to calm as he spoke.

“I desire your company, Tessanna, but not in that way. I do not even know you. Tomorrow morning, I will come with food. Please, sleep well this night.”

She nodded. A hand wiped away her tears. When they were gone, so too was her emotion. The girl of apathy had returned.

“I will await you here,” she said. She took the blankets and spread them out in the corner. Without another word, she nestled in, pressed her head against the pillow, and tried to sleep. Qurrah stared at her, his skin hot and his mind blurred.

“Tessanna,” he said, his voice full of fear.

“Go home,” she interrupted. “My dreams are dark. I do not want you hurt. Go home.”

He did, cursing himself every step of the way.