“Was it only four?” he asked.
He stepped past me and opened the satchel he’d brought in. The rustling was more than an irritation and only fueled the heat of my fury.
“What the Hell is that?”I asked. My body froze.
He handed it to me, a cold, sour look upon his face. “It’s a feather, love,” he said. “And the reason I went to Oreia. Chalke doesn’t have swans, in case you didn’t know.”
I stared at it. It was pure and chaste between us— a symbol, a confusion, a gift, a–
“I’m…Why?”I whispered.
“Take it,” he said.
I did and looked blankly at its beauty as he went on.
“I’ll save you the trouble of over analyzing what’s happening here. This is a romantic gesture, Princess.”
I shut my mouth. Then, “Wait. This… I told you what I thought of the feather I was given before?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And you… Then this is… Is this adeclaration?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You’redeclaringyourself?” I asked. “I specifically instructed younotto be in love with me,” I said.
Another “Yes.”
“Oh! So you defy your Queen?” I asked.
“You may bemyqueen, but you’re nottheQueen, Swan, so yes, while I still maintain some independence from your inevitable reign, defying you like this seems to be what I do best. Although… For the sake of reality, I understand the limitation of such a declaration. I know that when a man back home declares himself to a woman, it’s with the intention of marriage…. As that is not an option for us, the feather is… something else. An offer. An offer of proof of my devotion to you. And yes, Iintendfor youto interpret it the way you interpreted the last. Swans mate for life.”
“But—”
“I know, and I know you’re scared, but we aren’t children, Svana. I’m an adult man and I do as I please, and it pleases me that this connection remains as it’s formed. Intense. Undeniable. Interwoven. Do you feel the same?”
I couldn’t find the words, any words.
He stepped closer. “If you wish to end this, then I respect your wishes, butonlyif that is what you truly want. If it is fear that prevents your desire, don’t let it. Please. I am weathered and skilled enough with a blade to promise you that no one, absolutely no one is going to hurt me,” he said. “We’ll be safe. Discreet. I’ll never breathe a word of it to anyone but you. I will do whatever it takes to convince you of this, but I don’t wish to be without you and if you feel the same… I don’t think we should end it.”
I stuttered. I opened and closed my mouth. I failed to think. “I-I...”
“And I’m sorry about my letter,” he said. “I tried to keep it vague for the protection of your reputation, not to upset you. I was not mad; I was hoping to provide you with clear, tangible evidence of my commitment. I didn’t count how many sentences it was. It didn’t occur to me to do that.”
The water behind him screamed and then he turned to silence it, letting me simmer there like a fool.
“C-Cyrus,” I breathed, shaky.
“About that,” he started to pour us tea. “There’s something else. Something I should’ve said, something important you should know but I didn’t know how to explain…I…”
“You absolute blockheaded sap!” I yelled. He frowned, and I latched myself to the sides of his face— days without a shave andrough under my softer fingertips. Our lips fused together and, “You idiot!” I cried.
The kettle splashed at our legs as he dropped the pot to match my heated kiss. He coiled an arm around me, and knocked the counter clear with the other, dishes and objects clattering. He hoisted me up onto it and we began to strip each other.
“Such an imbecile,” I added.
“Feel free to stop insulting me anytime,” he said, laughing. “It’s not really doing it for me.”
