Brynelle made a soft sound. “That’s not very long.”
“It’s long enough that I shouldn’t—” I pressed my hands harder against my face, trying to block out the memory of Varyth’s mouth against my throat. “I shouldn’t want someone else. I shouldn’t feel safe with someone else.”
“Says who?”
I lifted my head to find Brynelle staring at me with an intensity that made something shift in my chest.
“Says who?” she repeated. “Who decided there’s a timeline for grief? A proper amount of time before you’re allowed to feel something for someone else?”
I opened my mouth to argue, to say that it was obvious, that sixteen months wasn’t long enough, that I owed Navaire more than?—
“A year before I met Shaelith,” Brynelle said quietly, her fingers finding Shaelith’s hand. “Someone I loved was killed.”
I stared at Brynelle, processing her words.
A ghost of old pain crossed her features. “Faliah.” She glanced at Shaelith, who squeezed her hand. “She was a healer. We had three centuries together before she was killed in a border skirmish.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, meaning it.
Brynelle’s smile was sad but genuine. “For months after I could barely breathe, let alone live.” Her gaze met mine, understanding shimmering in their depths. “And then I met Shaelith. The guilt nearly destroyed me. I felt like I was betraying her memory. Like I was erasing everything we’d built together by finding happiness again.”
I saw the way Shaelith’s fingers tightened around Brynelle’s. The gentle reassurance in the touch. I chewed on my lip, trying to shove down the question that wanted to escape. But it was no good.
“How did you…” The right words evaded me.
“Move past it?” Brynelle sighed, rubbing her thumb across Shaelith’s knuckles.“I realised that loving again doesn’t diminish what came before. It honours it.”
Her free hand found mine, gripping tight.
“Your husband, Navaire, he loved you, yes?”
I nodded, unable to speak around the knot in my throat.
“Love isn’t finite,” Brynelle said. “Caring for Shaelith didn’t diminish what I had with Faliah. It doesn’t diminish what you had with Navaire. It honours their memory by showing that they taught us how to love, how to open our heart.”
Her words washed over me in a gentle tide, soothing the jagged edges of my guilt. I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath as I pictured Navaire’s face. His amber eyes, the curve of his smile, the way he’d always encouraged me to embrace life fully.
Would he truly want me to deny myself happiness? To live in the shadow of what was, rather than reaching for what could be?
After a moment, I let myself look at Brynelle again. “I… I know you’re right,” I said, no more than a whisper. “But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.”
“It’s okay to take your time, Isara,” Brynelle said, her tone gentle. “No one’s rushing you. But don’t let fear hold you back.”
Shaelith adjusted Brynelle’s position in her lap. “What does he make you feel?”
I stared at the grass between my boots, trying to find words for something I’d been running from since the moment I’d met him.
“Safe,” I whispered. “Which is ridiculous, because he’s dangerous. He’s a High Lord, he’s manipulative, he keeps secrets, and half the time I want to set him on fire just for existing. But when he—” I swallowed hard. “When he touches me, I feel safe. Like I can stop running for five minutes and just... breathe.” The words came out broken, fractured around the edges.
“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” Shaelith added. “It’s not the way someone looks at a political asset or a weapon to be managed. He looks at you like you’re precious to him.”
My chest tightened. “That’s just—he’s protective. It doesn’t mean?—”
“Isara.” Shaelith’s voice was patient but firm. “I’ve known Varyth for centuries. I’ve seen him with allies, enemies, lovers. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
The word ‘lovers’ sent an uncomfortable spike through my chest. Of course he’d had lovers. He was centuries old, powerful, beautiful in that sharp-edged way that probably had people throwing themselves at him regularly.
I tried to keep my expression neutral. Failed spectacularly, if the way heat crawled up my neck was any indication.
