"We were camped at the river. We thought we were safe. The treaty had been signed, but the soldiers came at dawn. They said we had broken the rules. They did not say which rules.
Kota ran to get our son. He was shot in the back. " She looked at Luke, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "My son was three. He had just learned to walk without holding on. I carried him for 3 days after he died.
I could not leave him. " The silence between them was heavy, but it was not the silence of enemies. It was the silence of two people standing in the wreckage of the same storm. Luke felt a profound, aching sorrow for her. He looked at her face, the strength in her jaw, the sadness in her mouth, and felt something break inside him. It was the wall he had built to keep the world out.
"I'm sorry, Ayanna," he whispered. He reached out across the small space between them. He didn't think about it. He just wanted to offer comfort. His hand brushed hers.
The contact was electric. Ayanna's breath hitched. She looked at his hand, rough and scarred, covering hers. For a moment, she did not pull away. Her fingers curled slightly, responding to the warmth.
Desire flared in the cold night air, sudden, fierce, and terrifying. It was a hunger for life in the midst of death. Luke leaned forward, his eyes searching hers. He saw the same hunger there. He saw the woman beneath the warrior.
Ayanna, he breathed. She looked at him, her eyes widening. For a second, she leaned in. Then, the memory of the grave they had found that afternoon crashed back into her mind. The broken arrow, the tracks of the shot horses.
She snatched her hand back as if he had burned her. No. She scrambled backward, pulling the blanket tight like a shield. I cannot, she said, her voice trembling. I cannot take comfort from you, Carver, not while your people hunt mine, not while the ghosts are watching.
Ayanna, Luke said, holding his hands up. I am not my people. You are, she said, her voice hardening. You cannot wash the white off your skin, and I cannot wash the red off mine. There is a river of blood between us, and it is too wide to swim.
She stood up, turning her back to him. Go to sleep, she commanded, her voice thick with emotion. We ride at dawn. Luke sat there, his hands still tingling where he had touched her, watching her shoulders shake as she fought to control her weeping. He realized then that he loved her.