Before Iyre stole my memories, before her father drove the Serpent Knife into her chest, and a slumbering goddess awoke in her skin. In so many ways, Sabine is the same girl she used to be—the one who warms my heart and makes my blood hot. But even with all my heightened senses, I can’t see what’s going on inside her head.
Gods help me, I don’t know if one of the ten rulers of the known world will still accept a brute like me.
Well, you bastard, gotta try.
I throw my shoulders back, smoothing a wrinkle from my shirt, nudging away the birds trying to adjust my boot laces. “That’s enough, ladies.”
With my heart practically lodged in my throat, I make my way back to the clearing on shaky legs, clearing my throat about a thousand times.
I stop at the edge of the clearing, hanging back behind a cluster of holly. I want to simply look at her for a moment.
Sabine has her back to me, hands resting on her hips, horse brush dangling from one finger, head cocked at a curious angle.
I don’t know what has her attention, but I’m struck speechless. Because there’s a chance—if she says yes, which let’s be honest, is more than my grumpy ass deserves—that this honest-to-fuck goddess will be mine forever.
I muster my courage and step forward, a twig snapping under my boot.
Sabine’s head jerks at the sound, but she keeps her eyes on Myst. “Basten, come look at this. It’s the most peculiar thing. These chipmunks appeared out of nowhere to crawl all over Myst’s mane and tail. I thought they must be hunting up nesting materials, but no—they’re braiding her hair! They even tried to braid mine, but I told them it tickled too much. Isn’t that strange? They won’t tell me why, sneaky little things. And a whole flock of blackbirds has been dropping wild gorse andheather blossoms all over the clearing. I didn’t call them, I promise?—”
A soft laugh huffs on my lips, because that little forest mouse has worked a gods-damned miracle. Somehow, even though, according to Sabine, most creatures can’t communicate across species, the furry wonder has set up a wedding party complete with flower garlands.
At my silence, Sabine looks over her shoulder, eyes still bright with wonder from the animal activity. But then she sees me—in this ridiculous fancy shirt, hair combed for the first time in weeks—and her expression shifts.
The amusement fades.
Her mouth parts slightly, eyes going wide again, but not with charm this time. More like disbelief.
The thistle in my buttonhole, the flowers blanketing the clearing, the braids in Myst’s hair.
“O—oh,” she says softly.
A moment of terror slams into me. Fuck, is that a good “oh” or a bad “oh”? Until I hear the sweet little hitch in her breath, the soft flutter of her pulse that I recognize as joy.
Thank the fucking gods.
She continues to stare at me like I’m a painting come to life as I approach slowly, rubbing my hands together as I give a nervous chuckle.
“Sabine,” I start, stopping awkwardly a few feet in front of her, then have to clear my damn throat once more. “We’ve both known each other by so many names. But, to me, across lost memories and ones made anew, you’ll always be my violet. The sweetest damn thing I’ve ever tasted. Better than candied blossoms. Better than anything.”
I swallow hard, heart pounding.
“If you’ll have me now, I’d like to make you my wife.”
I’ve never seen bigger eyes, even on a doe with her sights set on my arrow.
“B—Basten,” she sputters, and as though jolting from a spell, starts combing through the tangled curls of her hair, suddenly aware of the dust on her travel clothes. “I—I don’t know what to say. How did you— I don’t see how you— And here? Now?”
She sweeps her arms wide to gesture to the clearing.
Heat prickles under my collarbone. I rub my chin and admit, “I know it’s no great hall, laden with a feast for a queen. That’s what you deserve, but this is the best we can do now. When we left Astagnon, public sentiment had turned against you. They called you a traitor. Daughter of the enemy. Painted slurs over your murals. If you’d stayed, there’s a chance you’d have been imprisoned. Or worse, attacked. I can’t take the risk of bringing you back into the kingdom without protection. If you’re married to the rightful heir to the throne, no one will dare to lay so much as an unkind eye on you.”
She blinks a few times, starts and stops a thought, and then runs her hands over her face to start afresh. “No—no, that isn’t what I meant. This place. This clearing. I mean that this is more perfect than you could ever know. I don’t want a wedding of thousands. Or parades. Or banquets. This isexactlywhat I want.” She toys with the twine ring on her finger. “You just caught me by surprise, is all.”
She comes forward, cheeks flushed the most delicious pink, and holds out her hands for mine. I stumble forward like a schoolboy to clasp hers.
“How did you do all this?” she breathes in an awe-filled whisper.
I grin, scoffing. “With help, that’s for sure. Captain Tatarin found a godkissed mage who could tell the forest mouse what I wanted, and that little fleabag took it from there. She even combed my damn hair into place.”
