“You’ll figure it out. And when you do…” She shook her head, knowing she shouldn’t say it, but doing it anyway. “When you do, I want you to remember that it wouldn’t have made any difference to me. It’s never made any difference to me when it came to you. I’d still pick you. I’ll always pick you.”

“Please— please, just tell me what that means.”

But there was no time, so she shook her head and stepped back.

Chaol took one step toward her, though. One step, then he said, “I love you.”

She strangled the sob that built in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping he would remember those words later— later, when he knew everything.

[...]

The ship began moving. And Chaol— the man she hated and loved so much that she could hardly think around him— just stood there, watching her go.

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