Kiirion will bring nothing to your life.

No matter what he feels for you, it won’t change anything. He’s still a spy. He’ll always be a spy. There’s blood on his hands you shouldn’t touch. Being around you, listening to you, sharing fleeting touches, it was all temporary.

One day he’s a constant in your life, and then he’s gone. Kiirion doesn’t say goodbye. Why should he? You’re just some human. He has other priorities, missions given to him from his king. You shouldn’t matter. And yet he finds himself watching you for the next week. You never see him. Kiirion wants to know if you’ll look for him, if you care about him at all.

A week, he tells himself. He watches you for a week, makes sure you can find a routine again, and then leaves for good. Aiwin no longer needs him to watch your temple. He needs to move on.

Five years pass rapidly. Kiirion starts potting plants to keep around his room. Flowers, mainly, and all of them remind him of you. Some days Kiirion considers leaving just to see you. Other days he wishes he could slam his head into a wall hard enough to forget you.

You’ve ruined him, he thinks. He may act unaffected, but you weigh heavily on his mind.

Perhaps it’s five years of spiraling. Perhaps it’s coming back to his room to find his flowers dead. Whatever the reason, Kiirion departs one night without a word to anyone.

Originally he hadn’t meant to talk to you. Just a glimpse, he promised himself. Kiirion only wanted to see how you were doing. That’s it. Nothing more.

But he doesn’t like the way that man is following, or the way another steps out from an alley. Kiirion takes a deep breath.

He shouldn’t get involved.

“Move,” Kiirion says, pushing you behind him. His fist connects with one of the men’s faces. He’s on the man’s partner before either of them have time to react. Gods, humans truly can’t fight hand-to-hand.

The fight doesn’t have his heart about to burst, though. It’s making eye contact with you that does it.