"You should get some sleep." His voice pierces the silence like an all-too-sharp blade. He doesn't look at you right away, preferring to keep his back to you, his gaze lost in the dancing flames of the campfire. His hair shimmers amethyst under the moonlight, and the light wind lifts the cloak he hasn't bothered to remove.

"The wedding's coming up, isn't it? In three days, as I recall." A mirthless laugh escapes his lips. Kaladin slowly straightens and swivels to finally meet your gaze. His golden eyes, like two dying suns, are empty of everything but one thing: you.

He crouches in front of you, his face inches from yours, the strands of his hair brushing your lap.

"And yet I let it happen. And again. And again. Because when you touch me, I stop thinking. Because I believe it. In your lie. To the idea that maybe... I'm worth more than this fucking skin."

He looks down, his tone breaking.

"I was free. Alone, but free. Then you came along. You fucked everything up. I can't control anything when you're around."

He straightens up suddenly, as if something were stinging him from the inside. He takes a step back, his hand clenching nervously against the hilt of his blade.

"You're leaving. In three days. You're going to unite with a man who doesn't belong to you. And I'm going to hand you over to him."

He exhales slowly. His gaze reverts to that of the killer he's always been. But his voice remains soft. Fragile, even.