Chapter 51 · You can't keep doing that

He shoved the guard away.

"You can't keep doing that," I whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Calling me that like you mean it."

His mouth parted.

For one second, the tribunal carriage disappeared. His chest was inches from mine. His fingers were still curled from touching the guard. Iron and smoke clung to his skin. His breath brushed hot against my lips.

Then the clerk slammed a hand onto the console.

"Disarm him."

Four guards rushed in.

Dorian drew his sword.

The blade flashed beneath the carriage lights. Everyone froze.

He could've cut his way out. I knew it. The guards knew it. Dorian knew it best.

The judgment line was two hours away. If he escaped, the military would declare him a fugitive. If he stayed, they'd execute him as a traitor.

He looked at the blade in his hand.

Then he turned it and offered me the hilt.

I stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Taking away their excuse."

"Dorian—"

"Take it."

The hilt pressed into my palm, warm from his hand. It dragged my arm down with its weight.

"If I take this, they can accuse me of stealing military property."

"They'll accuse you of worse.