‘You do mean something to me!’ he snapped back. ‘Freezing hell, Greta. You meaneverything.’
She balled her fists. ‘And yet you have the nerve to come to my room at midnight to remind me of your wedding to someone else!’
Alarik recoiled, her words slamming into him. They were harder than her brother’s punch, burrowing much deeper. Because they were true. There was nothing he could say to make it better.
His shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him all at once. ‘You can’t go,’ he said, not bothering to hide his desperation.
‘Why not?’
‘Because the beasts will miss you,’ he said, his voice ragged. He was messing this up. He was messing this up and he couldn’t seem to stop. ‘BecauseIwill miss you.’
Her eyes flashed, and he thought for a moment she was going to hit him. Or yell at him. But the fight went out of her, too, and she slumped on to her bed.
He came to his knees, his hands sliding up her legs, like he was afraid she might float away from him. That’s what it felt like – this moment – the beginning of goodbye. ‘You don’t have to go to war again,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to fight.’
‘This isn’t about war, Alarik.’
‘What can I do to make you stay?’
She looked down at him. ‘The one thing I would never ask of you. The one thing you could never give me.’
Because he was already giving it to Princess Elva. ToHalgard. And despite everything, she understood that. Greta was too selfless, too good, to expect him to walk away from his promise.
For her, he could be selfless, too. Hehadto be selfless. His love for her demanded it of him. Even as it shredded his heart to ruins.
‘If you want to go back with Tor, I won’t stop you.’ His words were slow and pained, dragged up from the centre of his chest. ‘But if you choose to remain here, I’ll give you every freedom you desire. Your own hours, your own rules. Anything, Greta.Anything.’
There was a long breath of silence.
Her smile turned rueful. ‘Let me think about it.’
‘All right.’ It was better thanno. Better thanfarewell.
He stood up, and she rose from the bed. They hovered apart from each other, neither one quite sure what to do now.
‘I don’t want to go to your wedding.’
‘Fine,’ he said, quickly. He would rather it that way anyway. If he had to see her in the congregation, he might just object to the union himself.
‘We can talk after,’ she went on. ‘When I’ve made my decision.’
‘Fine,’ he said again, his throat painfully dry. He was nervous, he realized. He hadn’t been this nervous in years. ‘Just don’t do anything rash.’
‘What, like kiss you?’ A smile danced across her lips. Alarik didn’t know if it was her spirit or the frostfizz that made her say it, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He wanted to do it again.
And again and again and again—
‘Stop looking at me like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you want to devour me.’
‘Then I better stop looking at you entirely.’
Her smile dissolved. ‘We should stop looking at each other.’
