"You've returned," I say, taking tiny steps toward him. Bracing myself—the equilibrium of my world shifted.
"I will always return for what is mine." He makes a verbal retreat. "What I am duty-bound to protect," he says factually.
My eyes consume his appearance, each prominent feature weaving into my mind. His hair is freshly cut, the center is slicked back; the sides trimmed short, only flaunting those mountain peak cheekbones.
"You said three days." The words spew from my mouth. "I feel as though three eternities have passed."
A smirk splices into his lips. "Missed me that dearly?"
"Missed the extra protection." The words fell before I could even catch them.
"Why?" His face grows grim. "Did something happen?"
"No," I blurt. To divert, I say, "I trust that your endeavor was successful?"
Visibly reluctant, he bites. "Lengthened because of an outbreak of a new strain of the plague. The Black Death."