“No one will return,” he signed. “He—I—”His hand

“No one will return,” he signed. “He—I—”His hands clenched into fists, knuckles prominent as a spine divorced from its anchoring flesh. Closing his eyes, Sirion dipped his head. A tremble quivered through his jaw, and Jisel straightened slightly with the dawning horror that she would see Sirion cry. She had seen him frustrated, dismissive, tired and irritable, but grief had never struck close enough to see him in tears.“We went over the edge together.”She froze, staring at his hands. Stilled on the last sign’s close, they seemed a strange new species to her, their gestures foreign. All at once, she was sure she had mislearned this language somewhere along the way, her heart so emphatically dismissed what she’d read in their shapes.Despite her initial thoughts when Malia suggested Callebero might have taken himself over the cliff, she hadn’t connected that with Sirion sitting here now. If they went over together, Sirion clinging to his sworn duty to protect Callebero, and died together, it seemed a kind of poetry: a pair of falcons plummeting to the sea after skimming too close to the sun. There were always romantic legends about such things, lovers who could embrace death as long as they held each other in the grave. In none of them did one half crawl out of the grave only to realize they’d lost hold of the other along the way.“Saints, Sirion,” she whispered.He still wouldn’t look up, his gaze bent toward the floor. Squeezing his wrist, she sucked in a breath that choked her as it passed over her tongue. A surge of anger rose tidal within her, a futile urge to take Callebero and scream at him until her throat went raw and dry, until he understood how much he burned when he set himself aflame.happy wip wed welcome back to the “i accidentally killed my beloved by trying to save him” circle -- source link

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