o8 - Too much love will kill you in the end

There was a brief knock on the door, soft and tired and familiar. Kel hastily tossed her book to the side and slipped out of bed to answer it. She was unprepared for the heavy weight that practically collapsed on top of her and buckled a little beneath it, but Lerant managed to struggle upright. His gray skin and hooded, shadowed eyes gave testimony to his exhaustion.

"You look awful," she said sympathetically. "Come in."

He didn't argue, although usually he had some kind of snappy retort to follow a comment like that. Without pause, he all but crawled into her bed and, heaving a great sigh, rolled over on his belly. He was so quiet that she assumed he had abruptly fallen asleep. She blinked, a little taken aback, but proceeded to remove his boots for him, to make him more comfortable. Besides, they were dirty, and dirty boots had no place in her bed.

"Mmsh."

Kel looked up. "What?"

Lerant lifted his head, said "Thanks," and flopped his head back down. He wasn't asleep, after all.

"How's Raoul?"

He turned his head so that he was facing her and managed a wan smile. "He's actually better. He'll live, at any rate. The healers say he's a walking miracle."

"I'm relieved. The entire palace was in mourning for weeks, until word came that he was on the mend."

"I don't know how he managed it. I mean, his intestines were practically falling out."

He shuddered, as though the memory was too much to bear. Kel had no doubt he had been by Raoul's side the whole time.

"How was the ride back?"

"It was fine. No battles, fortunately—I don't think milord could have handled it."

"Definitely not," she agreed. "Did you get hurt at all? No one mentioned any of the men."

"If I did, I didn't notice it. I was too busy with milord."

She shifted. "Have you eaten? I have some bread and cheese leftover, although it's probably a little warm by now."

"No, thanks," he demurred. "I ate with milord."

Something wasn't quite right. Could he not speak without talking about Raoul? Kel understood his feelings—she herself was almost shaky with relief, for the man who had saved her and taught her and, yes, loved her—but there was something in his eyes, something frightening and too-intense..

"How are you doing?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine, now that milord is okay. I mean, I thought he was going to die—and then he didn't. What if he had? What would I have done? What would..."

Questions, the what ifs and the what would happen to me? and the milord, milord, milord. It scared her, and she admitted it. Would she ever love someone so obsessively that her very life depended on theirs? Would she ever feel so much emotion for one person that the sun seemed to rise and set on their shoulders?

No, Kel decided. She loved deeply, loyally, but she could never imagine loving in such a way that it would kill her in the end.