At a T-shaped intersection, Rhea stumbled over a loose cobblestone, nearly collapsing against him. He caught her quickly, guiding her to a safer patch of ground. She mumbled a thanks under her breath, face flushed with either pain or embarrassment.
"Don't push yourself too hard," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. The fierceness in her eyes flared—she hated being fussed over—yet she let him help her remain upright. For a moment, they locked gazes, and he saw just how exhausted she truly was. She's fighting for every step, he realized, a pang of guilt tugging at him for not forcing her to rest. But the city was ablaze with problems, and none of them could afford to stand still.
