I took a deep breath, forcing down the lump in my throat, and smoothed out my gown. I couldn't just sit in that crumbling shack and let the distance between us grow.
I stepped out into the open fields, the morning fog low and damp around my ankles. A few yards away, Draven was sitting back on a large, moss-covered rock.
The sight of him was almost soft—his long fingers lazily tracing the petals of a wild field flower, the brutal obsidian scales completely gone from his skin.
Hugging my chest tightly to keep from shivering, I walked over to him. I forced a small, bright smile onto my face and took a spot near the base of the rock.
"Draven," I started softly, looking up at him. "Do you remember when we were back at the estate, and we played Monster and Princess? You complained the entire time, but you still played the monster and chased me all through the gardens." I let out a fragile little chuckle, hoping to catch a glimmer of that old, teasing spark in his eyes.
