“I don’t want to return to Edgewood.” I haven’t wanted that in weeks. His throat bobs, and he lifts his hand, cupping the scarred side of my face gently. “Then what do you want?” Why do the simplest questions have the most trying answers? I have given the North Wind every part of myself save my heart, and now I give him one more thing. “You,” I whisper hoarsely. “I want you.”
