95 Ender

Ender pulled Caroline along, his hand splayed out delicately along her waist. He was always conscious of being mindful of the touch he laid upon her. It would eat him alive if he caused her any harm, even if by accident.

She glanced up at him occasionally, waiting for him to continue speaking, divulging what he learned from their most recent round of infiltrating the nobles of Ravin-Sha. The task had been tedious and wearing on him. Never in his wildest dreams did Ender think he would willingly assimilate into high society, and as he had suspected, it was the more the content of nightmares.

Plastering a weak smile and feigning interest in the aristocrats were simple enough tasks but so unlike him that he felt as if he were wearing a second skin that was too tight and itched at the seams. 

In his mind, Ender knew he would do anything for Caroline, though. No matter how uncomfortable the task.