and I ran back to that hollow again
the moon was just a sliver back then
There is a part of her that knows why her mind cannot be touched; there is a knowledge buried in her bones that she is…different. It had started small—the signs subtle and innocent enough that she could have missed them. The way Noori had run up to her with astonished eyes. The way Kingslay had gone from burning inferno to quiet, smoldering ash under her touch. And, most of all, the way that the magic of the Deserts had begun to sink into her veins like arsenic; the way it spread illness throughout her. But it was a truth she did not want to acknowledge.
Because to acknowledge it was to turn her head away from the beauty of magic—and how she loved magic. She loved watching her mother whip up sandstorms and her father powerfully charge across the sky; she had grown to love the beauty and mystery of magic. If her instincts were right, then that would be stripped of her entirely.
Worse, she would be the cause of its disappearance.
Of course, she had never considered what she believed to be a curse (in the darkest corners of her heart) could potentially be a blessing; she had never once thought that perhaps it could help instead of hurt. So while she may bring him peace, he does the same to her, and she is flooded with relief as she takes the liberty of laying her cheek against his neck. “I know you don’t mean to,” she murmurs softly between them, although she is not entirely sure she knows what he is talking about.
“Perhaps your mind can be your own today.”
Perhaps hers could be her own as well.
and I ached for my heart like some tin man
when it came, oh, it beat and it boiled and it rang