“No,” Niel interrupted. “You said he’d duel and that you could meet my other terms. Swear you won’t break your word.”
“On my honor,” Corin ground out. “But damn it, Niel, you’re throwing—”
“Go tell him to prepare,” Niel said. “I’ll be out within a half-hour. It’s time to end this.” He stepped back from the portcullis.
“Niel,” Corin called. Niel ignored him, facing his men and walking away from the gate.
“Wake anyone who’s still sleeping immediately,” he instructed. “Get something to eat; they may not feed you again until luncheon. Someone get the prisoner out of the dungeon and bring him up here. Move quickly. We’ve only got a few minutes.”
“My lord.” The captain looked unsettled. “These are truly your orders? To surrender?”
“It’s over,” Niel said. Then he drew a breath, and admitted something he had not wanted to admit out loud: “we’ve been beaten for a while now. Might as well face it. I thank you for your service. It has been an honor.”
Kerr bowed, slowly, deeper than befitted a lord; as deep as befitted the prince consort title Niel refused to use. He held the bow instead of straightening, and one by one the other soldiers in the yard bowed to Niel, until he couldn’t see any of their faces.
His stomach clenched. They didn’t owe him that respect, not after he’d led them into this disaster. They ought to have hated him.
“Go,” Niel croaked, and strode past them into the castle.
He didn’t have to hunt long for Ayla. She came towards the courtyard door just as he stepped inside. Niel grabbed her hand and tugged her into one of the hallway alcoves, out of the way of the soldiers spilling back inside. Her eyes were on Niel for a moment, then on the men rushing past.
“What happened?” Ayla asked, her voice quivering. “Niel…”
He took her face in one of his hands and stared into her gray eyes, studying her face. If he survived, he wanted to remember every detail about her, for as long as he lived. And if he died, well. He prayed memory would follow him to the golden lands; that he would know her face for all eternity.
“We’ve agreed to terms,” he told her quietly. “The siege is over.”
“But…” she searched his face back, her own going paler than normal. “You’ll run, won’t you? With your cloak…”
“I told you I’d kill him. We’re going to duel.”
“Niel, no,” she whispered. “Please. Just run. Don’t put yourself in danger for me.”
“If I only keep one oath, it will be that one.”
“I won’t let you,” she said, her hands gripping his arms tightly. “You—”
He interrupted her with a kiss, pressing his lips softly to hers. Ayla stiffened, then relented, clinging to him. Niel pulled her tight against him and felt his heart pounding like a drum. She'd become everything. His light, his hope. His rescue.
If he didn’t say it now, he never would. He drew back fractionally, his lips still brushing hers.
“What was your whole name, Ayla? Before him?”
He felt her trembling in his arms, and heard the strain in her voice as she answered.
“It was Kaufaer. Ayla Kaufaer. Please, Niel, do not…”
“I am in love with you, Ayla Kaufaer,” Niel whispered. “I am glad I lived to meet you.”
“Niel,” she whispered, her voice strangled, begging. “Do not do this. Not for me.”
He was doing it for her, but he was doing it for himself, too, and he didn’t know how to explain that. And he didn’t know how to leave her, when she was begging him not to, her hands fisted in the fabric of his sleeves.
He exhaled hard and rested his forehead against hers. More than anything, he wished they'd had more time.
“Run with me,” Ayla whispered. “Please, Niel. We can start a new life away from all of this. Please. Like we talked about.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, and found he did not have the strength to tell her no.
