“Just you and me.” His thumb strokes against my jaw, and I can see his expression warring with the same wish I have. “One day soon, Goldfinch, we will have that. I promise you,” he murmurs.
I smile sadly. “But not today.”
“No, not today.”
With a nod, I give him one more kiss, and then we both get up from the bed. We find a washroom down the corridor, and then we bathe together, all tender caresses and quiet gestures while we speak such difficult words.
And we have so many things to say.
At my urging, he fills me in on what happened in Orea first. Then, it’s my turn, and I tell him everything. Every single thing that happened, from the second I jumped into the rip, to the moment he found me on that street. He listens with rapt attention, taking in every word, asking a question here or there, but mostly, just letting me get it all out.
It’s cathartic, in a way. Like opening a festering wound. Letting the confined infection drain away, making me face the pain and admit the aches.
I let it all out while he washes me gently, fingers delving through my hair, soaping up every single ribbon and stroking over my skin. As if his touch is trying to ease the harder parts I have to say.
But I can tell those parts hurt him too. I can feel his guilt. His fury. His regret for not being with me.
“It’s not your fault,” I say to him as the bathwater cools around us and the soap bubbles dissipate.
He doesn’t reply, though. Probably because he doesn’t agree.
When I get to the end, I have to tell him the worst parts. About his father. His mother. The king. My memories…
His body shakes, but it’s not from the cold water. He turns me around, gripping my face in his hands, eyes locking onto mine. “I am so fucking sorry,” he tells me, emotion thick in his throat. A tear slips down from my eye, but his thumb catches it. “And I am so entirely in awe of you. So incredibly proud.”
I shake my head, ready to tell him all the ways I failed, but his fingers still my lips. “No, Auren. You were so fucking strong. Don’t refute that.”
“Your mother…”
“We’ll find her,” he says, and there’s no doubt in his tone.
“I know we will.” There’s no doubt in mine either.
With all the words drained away, we finally let the water drain too. Then we both get out and dry off. We go through the motions slowly as we try to reconcile our current reality, now that we know everything.
But this time, we don’t have to carry these burdens or make decisions alone. Slade looks at me across the washroom as he towels off his wet hair, and he nods. Bolstering me. Silently reassuring me that whatever we face next, we’ll face it together.
We find extra clothes in an armoire right next to the tub and start getting dressed. Slade finds a gray shirt that gapes open at the collar, and thick black pants. They’re tight, but he manages. I grab plum trousers that fit pretty well, but the only tunic I find is white and incredibly thin. So thin that it shows my nipples.
Slade eyes me. “Maybe we should trade shirts. As much as I love the sight of you in that one, it will make me have to kill a lot of people if they dare to look your way.”
Snorting, I shake my head at him. The shirt is also too loose, gaping to reveal my cleavage. So I fix it all by forming another golden chest plate. Except this one I make to only meldover my bust, belly, and back. I create the perfect openings for every single ribbon too, while leaving my arms and shoulders bare for my shirt to fit snugly beneath.
“There, that’s better,” I say happily, plucking at the sleeves and straightening the collar of the shirt. I pull on some worn brown boots next. They pinch my toes a bit, but they’ll do.
I smile as I watch Slade struggle to lace up the front of his too-small pants. I have to say though, his ass looksamazingin them. “Want me to gild you a pair of trousers?” I tease.
He flashes me a grin. “Would you make it fit even tighter than what I have on now?”
“It’s a possibility.” I shrug as my ribbons finish combing through my hair.
He straightens up and presses a kiss to my lips. “Next time.”
The conversation is playful, but the promise isn’t, because I know he’s talking about so many more next times.
All the next times we desperately want to have. All of ourone dayswhere we won’t have to rush. Won’t have to face insurmountable problems. Days where we can simply lie in each other’s arms and…live.
But in order to make sure we get that, we have to face these worries and threats. We have to face these hard realities so that we can finally be free.
