Alaric
I found her still sitting at the workbench after our earlier conversation, and something about her continued stillness — the way she hadn't moved on to anything else, hadn't gone back to work, hadn't done anything except sit with whatever she was carrying — pulled a knot of anxious frustration tight in my own chest before I'd even opened my mouth.
"You're still stuck on this," I said, and heard, too late, how it came out clipped instead of gentle.
"I'm not *stuck.* I'm thinking."
"You've been thinking for hours, Marlowe. About whether marrying me turns you into someone else." I felt Rook go tense beside my own rising unease, some old insecurity surfacing faster than I could properly examine it. "I didn't realize loving me was something you needed this much convincing to actually
