How many more are there? How much of my husband is still a mystery?
I stand up and walk around the table to where he’s sitting. Without a word, I take his hand in mine. His fingers are trembling slightly, whether from the magical exertion or emotional stress, I can’t tell.
The questions I want to ask crowd against my teeth. Why didn’t you tell me? How powerful are you really? What else are you hiding? But those are conversations for later, for when we’re alone and aren’t discussing the fateof the world. Right now, what matters is that we might actually have a chance.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, squeezing his hand.
He looks at me with something approaching wonder, as if he expected anger or accusations instead of acceptance.
“Later,” I promise, and see understanding flicker across his face.
Around us, the planning continues with renewed vigour. Voices call out new calculations, revised timelines, adjusted strategies. The energy in the room has shifted from despair to determination.
And through it all, Dyfri’s hand remains clasped in mine. Whatever secrets he’s still keeping, whatever power he’s been hiding, we’ll face it together.
Just like we’ll face everything else.
After all, that’s what marriage is for.
Chapter thirty-five
Jack
The wave of dizziness passes, reality settling around us like a comforting blanket. We are back in our flat, and the warmth that is seeping into me is not only the physical kind. Familiar scents wrap around me. We are home.
But something feels wrong. I turn around to face Dyfri, and I freeze.
He is standing by the wall-that-is-not-a-wall that we just walked through, as still as a statue carved from marble. His arms are wrapped tightly around himself, and his head is down, causing his dark hair to cover his face. Every line of his body speaks of retreat, of making himself smaller, as if he could disappear entirely if he just tried hard enough.
The sight sends alarm bells ringing through me. This isn’t exhaustion from magical exertion. This is something much worse.
Shit. Is there something wrong with the portal we stepped through, something I couldn’t feel because I don’t have any magic? Is he hurt? Did revealing his power damage him somehow?
“Dyfri!” I bark out in alarm, my voice sharper than I intended.
He flinches at the sound of his name, the movement violent and involuntary, as if my voice has struck him physically. When he rouses himself, there’s something even more broken in his posture that makes my chest tight with panic.
He moves towards our bedroom with long, hurried strides, his steps echoing hollowly in the sudden emptiness between us.
“I’ll just gather some things and then I’ll go.”
The words hit me like a slap. My brain stutters, trying to process what he’s just said.
“Go? Go where?” I splutter in confusion as I watch his retreating back, my heart beginning a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Where you won’t have to see me.” His voice is hollow, distant, as if he’s already halfway gone. “I’ll have to come back sometimes, to maintain appearances, but I will endeavour to keep those to a minimum.”
The bottom drops out of my world. My heart leaps up into my throat, cutting off air, cutting off thought. This can’t be happening. He can’t be leaving. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built together.
I spring forward and grab his wrist without thinking, desperation overriding common sense. Dyfri jolts to a stop, every muscle in his body going rigid like I’ve sent an electric current through him.
The reaction is so extreme, so visceral, that I immediately understand my mistake. Hastily, I release him, my hands flying back as if he’s burned me.
“Sorry!” The word tears out of my throat. “Fuck! What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”
I know better. I know about his past, about the ways he’s been touched without permission. And here I am, proving that I’m no different from the others who’ve hurt him.
Dyfri stays frozen in place, seemingly caught between flight and paralysis. He doesn’t turn to face me, but he doesn’t walk away either. He’s trembling now, fine tremors that speak of a control barely maintained.
