Marcel spoke to Ysoriel with such kindness and grace that I felt honored by his words and even felt I could trust him with her safety.
Ysor answered, and he gently took her hands into his. For a moment right there, I didn't like the look of that.
'Now, it's just treatment. Come on, dude.'
I fixed my gaze on Marcel's hand. Ysoriel's jade hand rested on it and looked so comfortable there. Plus, for some reason, his hands were smooth too.
I put my hand behind my back and stole a glance at my palm. Unlike Marcel's, mine was rough and laden with dried blisters that had made a home there.
Marcel closed his eyes, and the room fell into a kind of silence that felt hurried — toward what or where, I had no idea. It just felt like that.
'Is he prolonging the process because he wants to keep touching her hand?'
I'd want to do so… there's no telling if there's another person who wouldn't.
