“Why is it called New Valderi? Is there an old Valderi?”
“I believe so. Far from here, on another continent. But the Lothlesi people left it behind and settled here more than a thousand years ago. I’m not sure even Tharios knows why, or if he does, he’s never told me. The Lothlesi may speak freely about the joining, but they do not speak of the past.”
Arisanna lifts her head to see his face. “The joining?”
“You seem to prefer the term ‘bonding.’” When he leans in to kiss her, she kisses him back. Thank the fates. Sitting and talking was clearly the correct solution for her apprehension.
Not that he’s doing any of this with an ulterior motive in mind. He just wants to be with her in whatever way makes her happy. Her happiness is an elixir, intoxicating at times.
“You aren’t catching fire,” she whispers against his lips, and he laughs.
“As long as I don’t look at that tub. Or think about you too much. My plants are eager, though. I keep pulling them back.”
Hopefully, it was all right to confess that. She said he could tell her anything. Did she mean it?
She tucks a tendril of hair behind his ear, and he groans at her touch.
“I love you,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
She runs her finger along the less sensitive upper edge of his ear, and he leans into her hand as he struggles against his magic.
“For the gentleness. Both with my heart and...and everything else.” She kisses him again, leaving her fingers on his ear, and he slides his eyes closed as his magic grows more insistent.
“I taste your magic, my elven prince.”
“It wants you.”
“Do you think it counts when it happens in the heartlanding?” Her voice is small, and he opens his eyes to meet her gaze.
“Counts?”
“My mother said—”
“Whistling wind, Arisanna. I heard everything she said. No more expectations. What you and I do when we’re alone together matters to no one else. Not even your mother.”
For a moment, they stare at each other. All those words sort of erupted from him. He could have said it differently. More gently. It’s just so hard to witness the unbearable weight Arisanna carries trying to live up to all these expectations.
“Forgive me,” he eventually says. “I—”
But she kisses him before he can finish, which is just as well since he has no idea what to say.
“It doesn’t matter,” she breathes against him.
“No.”
“We can do what we want when we want.”
“Yes.”
“And it counts because it was real to us.”
“No more talk of counting or not counting. We’re not keeping score. And it was real. Everything that happened between us last night was real.”
“As real as the vine wrapping around my leg.” She leans her forehead against his, her hands on his ears.
“Forgive me. You’re just so hard to resist. I’m trying.” He pulls back on the vine, but she grabs it.
