The dread deepens and curls around my stomach.
“Which meansweneed to discuss a date for our ascension.” He clasps my hands in his.
The line of logic is too easy to follow.
And I hate that it is.
“We need toincentivizethem,” I near groan.
What Sovereign King wouldn’t be incentivized by the promise of verifiable power?
“You gave your word you’d ascend. There’s nothing we can do about that now—not without serious repercussions that would place Erus at risk,” Ryc says and I heave a sigh. “We offer them a date—one in the near future—and they vote to keep Rowen and Tanila alive.”
While I’d given my word, I didn’t commit to a specific date.
I never expected toreturnto the living realm.
Fulfilling the promise wasn’t something I thought to consider untildays aftermy return. Even then, I’d near forgotten about the hastily made promise entirely until Ryc mentioned keeping my return quiet until necessary.
I hate it.
All of it.
I don’t want to be enmeshed in fae politics.
But I want Ryc in my life and he very much is.
“Alright,” I say, bracing myself. “How soon?”
“I’d like to offer by Ashdown,” he answers.
I don’t know when or what Ashdown is.
“The winter solstice,” he answers my unasked question.
Yet another fae celebration.
“In roughly eight weeks,” he adds.
“Eight weeks?” I ask, my spine growing rod-straight.
Eight weeks ismuchsooner than the years or decades I thought it possible to hide.
Ryc offers me a soft, apologetic smile. “I realize it’s not the time we wanted. You’re being thrust into a position you didn’t ask for and don’t want. I would understand if—”
“No,” I interject, not wanting him to finish. “I don’t want it. But we promised, Ryc. Never again.”
The night of my return, we promised to never be separated again. I’ve no intention to break that promise. Fae politics be damned.
He holds my stare, slipping his hands beneath mine on my lap. His fingers envelop them in a warm and gentle clasp. For a small moment he steals his eyes, lowing them to my hands before returning to me.
“Never again,” he echoes the same promise.
“If this is what we have to do, then let it be done,” I offer, sounding far more committed than even I expect.
“You don’thaveto do anything,” Ryc says with a chuckle. “I’ve stood where you are. I know the thoughts you must have. I had them too. I want—noneed—you to make your own choices independent of how they bear upon me or Erus. If a life of this isn’t—”
“I want you in my life, Ryc,” I say, struggling with the words.
