Nevara
I had just finished the last bite of waffle when Thoren stood.
I looked up. He looked down at me. For a moment neither of us said anything.
Then he held out a hand.
“Come on.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Come on.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Before I could formulate an argument, he stepped forward, slid an arm beneath my knees, and lifted me clean off the chair.
A surprised yelp escaped me.
“Thoren!”
“What?”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
“Then why am I being carried?”
He adjusted me slightly against his chest and started toward the door.
“Because you’ve already walked today.”
I stared at him.
“That is ridiculous.”
“The doctor said to stay off your feet as much as possible.”
“I have been.”
“You walked here.”
“That was an hour ago.”
“You still walked.”
