burst

ventilation hole on the other side, expecting to see the same view—and froze in shock. A scarred, red-haired man lay curled up on a bundle of cloth, right outside her cell. He'd been chained hand and foot . . .
Rufus!
She hadn't realized she'd said it aloud until he stirred and glanced around.
"Wha—?"
Her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. For a long, terrible moment, she was afraid she would burst into tears. She bit down hard on her lower lip to prevent it. Then she swallowed and whispered, "Rufus! It's me! Aelia."
He stared at her prison wall, then presented his back. Her eyes burned. He was afraid to talk with her. She closed her fists. Well, it is your fault he's here. If he hadn't been caught in her cell, attempting to show her a little parting kindness, Xanthus would never have had a reason to punish him. Rufus' presence could mean only one thing. She shut her eyes, overcome by horror. Rufus must hate her desperately.
She heard him swear under his breath, then, astonishingly, he scooted closer to the hole where she crouched. Without quite turning his face to look at her, he murmured, "I thought you might be on deck, with Xanthus."
She could just make out his face. He didn't look angry. That didn't seem possible. "Oh, Rufus, I'm so sorry . . ."
"For what?" He swung around to stare.
She started to cry and silently